Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Some of what she’s saying is true, some of it not.
But the points she’s making are only validating my concerns. That I’m bad for Pierce. The exact opposite of what he needs. And what I hoped to be.
“Everyone in the White House is talking about this. It’s only a matter of time before it leaks to the press.” She stalks back to the door and yanks it open, sneering back at me over her shoulder. “You’re the last thing he needs. If you care about him at all, you’ll resign.”
I sit in stillness long after she’s gone, my heart beating triple time in my chest.
I want so badly to believe she’s wrong, but deep down…
I know she’s right.
I’m a distraction and a liability to someone who can do a lot of good if he focuses—and that’s going to be harder to do as long as I’m around.
With tears in my eyes, I open my laptop and start working on my resignation letter.
eleven
. . .
Pierce
Crisis averted.
The United States’ show of solidarity with other countries and the threat of sanctions have caused the power-hungry nation in Eastern Europe to deescalate its threats to a vulnerable population and for now, peace has been restored. Air Force One is preparing to land and I’m counting the seconds, trying to judge when we’ll touch down based on the horizon and cruising speed.
I want Eloise now.
I want her right fucking now.
I was able to concentrate on strategy meetings and policy discussions for the last three days, but now I need a goddamn fix of her. I’ve been so busy and locked into crisis-mode that I haven’t been able to call her while I’ve been in London and I miss her voice so much, my whole being is under strain. I’ve demanded to be taken straight to the White House upon landing—and I’ve demanded that Eloise be waiting for me in the Oval Office.
I’m going to tell her I missed her so badly, breathing was an effort.
I’m going to ask her to be my wife.
And then I’m going to lay her down right there on the floor, in the center of the presidential seal, kiss her pussy and tell her how much I missed it, too.
If she’s not already pregnant, I’m going to remedy that before the plane engine has had a chance to cool down.
Finally, we touch down and I’m off the plane, striding briskly to the waiting convoy, answering reporters’ questions as I go, but I’m thinking of nothing but Eloise’s blue eyes, the trusting way they look at me, her optimistic nature and lack of cynicism. Her smile and warmth. The abandoned way she fucks, no holding back, no shame.
There’s an advisor waiting in the back of my SUV, and though I wasn’t expecting Eloise to be there, instead, I still grind my molars over the disappointment.
“Mr. President.” The advisor beam at me. “I’m here to catch you up to speed on everything that happened while you were away.”
The convoy is already pulling off the airstrip. “Great. I’m all ears.”
I listen and make mental notes for a few minutes, but there doesn’t seem to be news of great import, save a potential auto worker strike on which I’ve been asked to intervene—and though I’m already working on some ideas to reach a favorable outcome on both sides, I must appease my need to see Eloise first. I can think of nothing else.
“Has my meeting with Ms. Rogers been scheduled?” I ask, attempting to massage the tension from my own neck. “I need to see her first thing.”
One of my Secret Service agents is driving the vehicle and I notice a flicker of trepidation in his eyes, courtesy of the rearview mirror. With a frisson of alarm snaking through my midsection, I pin my advisor with a hard look.
“Yes or no. Has the meeting been scheduled?”
He hedges. “I wanted to wait until we were in your office to discuss this, sir. But the short answer is no. Your meeting with the youth council secretary won’t be taking place.”
“You better get busy explaining why the hell not.”
“She resigned, sir.”
It feels as though someone has driven a two-by-four through the center of my chest, then hammered it in for good measure. The world wobbles and spins, a sick feeling rising swiftly in the center of my throat. “What the fuck do you mean she resigned?” I shout. “Why wasn’t I notified about this? What the hell is going on?”
“She asked that you not be disturbed while dealing with the situation in Eastern Europe and the team agreed it was best to inform you upon returning.”
“It wasn’t for the best,” I rasp, rubbing the apparent rupture between my pecs. “I want to know what happened right now. Was she harmed in some way? Was she…oh God, is she okay? I shouldn’t have left her alone.”