Power #2 (The Power Romance Series - Book #2) Read online

  But I shook his hand, instead, allowing the feeling to pass.

  I spun around. My long, brunette locks coursed down my back. I knew that he was watching me, looking after me. I turned my head back, still feeling that bit of daring energy in me. “You know. Don’t give up on me, Xavier. You know where my office is.” I winked at him.

  But suddenly, I felt it: the lurch, the fear in my chest for what was going on outside. As I exited the Oval Office, I could nearly feel Jason’s grasp on my neck. As I tapped by his desk, I could feel his eyes on me. I wanted to spit at him, to tell him he was not only keeping me from the man I felt such passion for, he was also keeping me from doing my job the way I pleased.

  I shook my head at him as I passed, unperceptively beginning a war with him in my mind.

  You will pay, I thought.

  Chapter 5

  The following few days, I found myself in a blur of anger and obedience. Jason had begun to call me on my cell phone often simply to check up with me, to allow me to understand that he’s watching me all the time.

  One specific night, he called me on the phone while I sat at my kitchen table, a glass of red wine resting before me.

  “Hello?” I heard my voice quiver, and I felt such shame. I drank the wine quickly, feeling the tang of it against my tongue.

  “Well, well. How’s the biggest slut in D.C. doing?” he asked me.

  My voice grew hot. “What do you want, Jason?” I tipped my head, knowing that I couldn’t be too angry with him. Not overtly. I had to let him know that I would follow his orders; I would do whatever he wanted, as long as he allowed me to get out of this mess, eventually.

  “I’m sorry. Is that a bit of sass I hear in your voice? Because you know what I can do about that.”

  I swallowed, trying to quell my anger. “I’m sorry, Jason. Just a hard day. How are you doing?”

  “Just fine. Just fine. I’m actually swinging up in front of your apartment. You care to come out and see me?”

  I panicked. I bounced from my chair and ran toward the window. Sure enough, down on the street sat a long, stretched black limo. “That’s you in the limo?” I asked him.

  “But of course. You know I only do things with style.”

  In that moment, I remembered his ridiculous, ruffled shirt and his continuous unkempt appearance. I wanted to laugh. But then I remembered.

  “I can come down. But only for a moment,” I stated, turning back. I grabbed my coat and pounded down the steps, my heart racing. I tried to push myself out of fear. I tried to tell myself that soon the campaign season would be over. I tried to remind myself that as long as I did his bidding, I could stay involved in the White House proceedings. I wouldn’t lose sight of my goals. Not yet.

  I tapped toward the stretch limo, hearing my heels against the pavement. I blinked rapidly, trying to tell myself not to cry. I couldn’t in the face of him. I swallowed and pulled the door open, placing myself just on the inside, far away from his languid body. He was smoking a cigar, and the cigar smoke emanated throughout the cab, making me cough.

  “Amanda. I hope you are well,” he said. His voice was filled with such slime.

  “And I, you,” I murmured. I placed my hand over my mouth, trying not to inhale the stench. “Can I ask you why you’re at my house?”

  He smiled on the other side of his cigar. “You know I’ve been here before, Amanda.”

  I imagined him placing the cameras throughout my apartment, tossing his grimy hands through my fine things. I grew so angry thinking about it that I placed my nails into my skin. I penetrated too deeply, then, drawing blood.

  “Anyway. I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you out here. I didn’t do it for no reason.”

  “Sure, Jason. Not that it isn’t great to catch up.” I tossed him a raucous, sarcastic smile. This sarcasm seemed to please him.

  “Ah, yes. Just a saucy young lady, aren’t you?”

  I raised my eyebrow. I didn’t want to say anything else.

  “All right. I have another request for you. Another assignment, shall we say. You do work for me now, after all.”

  I tipped my head to the right. “Sure,” I murmured. I felt the words, so scratchy, coming from my throat.

  “I need a private session with the president. I need you to get it for me.”

  I raised my eyebrow, then. “I thought you had that authority already?” I didn’t mean this as an insult, you must understand. I truly didn’t comprehend that perhaps things weren’t going as Jason had planned in his relationship with the president.

  He grunted. “Ah, yes. Well. You and the president, as those little photographs allow us to understand, have an incredible relationship. When I can’t meet with the president, you can arrange it. Is that clear?”

  I nodded, swallowing. Was he—was he actually the campaign manager? I realized I had still been doing most of the responsibilities. Perhaps the president had given him a few more duties; but perhaps the president hadn’t turned to him for anything more. Perhaps their relations were strained.

  I could hardly think. I reared up on my seat, turning toward him once more. “So. This meeting—it’s over?” His face broke into a sort of sad, evil smile. I suddenly realized that this man had taken advantage of me in nearly every way possible. He’d tried to ruin my life, and everything still wasn’t working so well for him. He grinned, but I saw the instability in his smile. His teeth were brown.

  I got a bit daring, then, just as I placed my hand on the handle of the vehicle. “So you’re—you’re planning on meeting with the president for what reason, exactly?” I asked him, spinning my head around once more. I tapped my heel against the plastic on the side of the car.

  But his face broke out into an angry grin, then. He shook his head. “Ah, no. You won’t fucking ask me questions like that.” He reared up, as well, and leered toward me. “You don’t have the right to ask me things like that. A know it.”

  I bowed my head, feeling so angry, so horrified. I suddenly became certain that he only wanted this meeting so that he could hang the photos over Xavier’s head. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want Xavier to know that I was being manipulated. Surely he would think that I was stronger than that. But of course, I wasn’t.

  I bit my lip and pushed myself from the car, out into the street. I spun around and watched the limousine speed away. I felt my sanity dipping away as it fled.

  I didn’t know how long I would be this puppet. I felt like I was going to be strung along forever. I turned back toward my apartment. When I reached the table, I poured myself the largest glass of wine of my life. I had to drink away my sorrows. I had to fall away from this existence. Perhaps in the light of the morning, I would discover another realm of possibility. I could understand what to do.

  Chapter 6

  The next day, I sat at my desk, across the churning room from Jason. I watched as Xavier walked toward him and leaned down, whispering something to him over the chaos. Jason nodded curtly and turned back toward him computer. It was so rare that I saw them talk; I wasn’t sure what was going on.

  But then, Xavier turned toward me. His eyes were bright. I could feel him analyzing every single cell of my body. I felt naked in front of him. I licked my lips and turned back toward my computer, trying to find something to think about, something beyond my sheer infatuation with the President of the United States.

  But then: his shadow appeared before me. I looked up, acting surprised. My voice came out so slowly. “Hello, Mr. President.” I could hardly hear myself.

  “Amanda,” he said. His face looked so open. “I just wanted to check in with you about—about the other day.”

  A bit spastically, I waved my hands in front of my face. “No, no. Mr. President. It’s fine. I’m just—I’m a mess right now. The campaign is going really well, but at the cost of my sanity, I’m afraid.” I gave him my surest smile—the smile that told him I had everything under control. But god, I didn’t.

  He nodded. I want
ed him to take my face in his hands; I longed for him to kiss me so deeply, in a manner that forced my knees to dip to the ground. I bit my lip, wishing him to both go away and stay.

  Stay.

  But he remained, for better or for worse. “Jason’s doing an okay job, isn’t he?”

  I turned my head toward Jason, watching him as he spewed into a phone, his face red. “He grows angry easily,” I murmured, gesturing.

  But Xavier placed his hand in the air, in a fist. “I suppose you must have passion in this business.”

  The words hung between us like a cloud. I longed to tell him, then. I wanted to tell him that Jason was terrorizing me; that he was the only person who knew about our one-night stand. (Because, at the end of the day, what else was it? It was a one-night stand. It couldn’t be termed anything else.)

  Suddenly, two secret service agents appeared on either side of the president. One whispered in Xavier’s ear. Xavier’s eyebrows rose, and he turned toward him, speaking loud enough for me to hear. “Well, did you tell her I’m working?”

  My mind began to rush. Was he talking about his wife?

  The secret service agent whispered in his ear once more. His voice was so low, I assumed it was in some sort of code.

  “Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,” Xavier stated, then. His voice came gruffly from his throat. He casually rolled his eyes toward me, like we were sharing a secret joke.

  I nodded, feeling my hair as it ruffled up against my neck. “I’ll see you later, Mr. President,” I murmured casually, watching him as he walked away. I felt nearly like swooning, for a moment. God, this was all too much.

  I turned my head back toward Jason, then. He was still at his desk and he slammed his phone onto the wood, his hair in a tuff above his head. I felt confidence surging through me. I plucked myself from my desk and walked toward him, feeling my firm shoulders waving this way, then that. I sniffed toward him, leaning over his desk with such femininity, such confidence. I knew he couldn’t handle it—that his confidence came and went with his sliminess.

  But he leaned toward me, seemingly unperturbed. “Amanda. Can I do something for you?”

  “Actually, you can,” I whispered. “I would love to speak with you in the other room, campaign manager. Just if you have a moment.” My words were laced with sarcasm.

  He stood, then. “Lady can’t keep her hands off me,” he muttered toward me, making another snide remark.

  But I turned and led him toward the back office—the same office in which he’d revealed the photos to me all those days before. When the true terror of my life had begun.

  I closed the door, then, trapping us in there together. I turned toward him and brought my arms together in front of my chest. I cleared my throat before I spoke, tracing my eyes over his sloppy body. He was in such strange contrast to the president.

  “How long do you plan on holding these photos over my head, Jason?” I asked him, then. My voice was high-pitched, but laced with such anger.

  He raised his eyebrows toward me. “Now, that isn’t the language I want to hear from my champion girl.” He took a step forward, toward me. He was intimidating. I leaned against the wall. “Better question is this: have you arranged my meeting with the president yet? I saw you both speaking a bit earlier. He was giving you those eyes. God, office romances are the worst, aren’t they?”

  I felt the wood of the door behind me. I longed to rush out, away from him. But I had to stand firm. “Tell me how much longer you want to play with me,” I demanded in a harsh whisper.

  He took an additional step toward me, and he brought his finger to my face. He traced my cheekbone, my eyebrow with his first finger. I felt such menace from him: like he would hurt me if we weren’t stuck at the White House, the two of us. Together and so alone in that middle room—the very belly of the great political home.

  “I can’t be certain how long I’ll need you, can I?” he finally whispered. I thought he was going to kiss me, and I braced myself. “I suppose I’ll keep the pictures until I get what I want, ultimately.”

  “And what is it that you want?” I asked him. I swallowed, feeling such anger and hysteria beneath him.

  He shrugged once more. “What I’ve always wanted, of course. What I’ve always wanted.”

  I shook my head. I sputtered another question, feeling the quivering deep in my stomach. “Are there any more cameras in my apartment?” I finally asked. I swallowed, closing my eyes.

  I felt him step even closer to me. I could feel his breath on my mouth. I could nearly feel his lips upon mine. His words echoed over me, then: “I will answer this question, of course. For it is the most interesting of all. How many did you find?”

  “Three,” I said, still keeping my eyes closed. I wanted to run away. I wanted to get out of there. But I felt so trapped, like an animal in a cage.

  He started laughing, then. I could feel him tip his head back to laugh stronger, harder than I’d heard him laugh since that first day, when he’d brought the photos to me—when he’d ruined my life. “Three cameras. Of course. Those were the ones I wanted you to see. The one in the armoire? What nice china, by the way. Antique, no?”

  I bit my lip, feeling waves of nausea pass through me. Three cameras. Three. “How many are there total, Jason?” I asked him. My voice was on the hint of begging. I felt that this was the only way I could translate my sheer anxiety.

  “There are five cameras, my lovely. Five.”

  My eyes snapped open, and I viewed his hand before me—the five fingers out like rockets from his palm. I swallowed.

  “Two others.”

  “And you’ll never find them,” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “Never.”

  He jutted past me, then. He grabbed the doorknob and jolted into the hallway, through the crowded room with all the rushing campaign employees. I began to run after them, but I was immediately bombarded with questions, with papers. I felt the anxiety close around my throat. There was nothing I could do, in that moment.

  Chapter 7

  I sat at my desk for a long time, thoughts of quitting and leaving the White House forever coursing through my brain. I actually saw no way out of this dilemma. This terrifying man was watching my apartment. I was losing control of my position. I was desired by the president—by this wonderful, stunning man—and yet this was the very root of my dilemma.

  The phone started to ring once more. Always, it was ringing off the hook. Sometimes, I considered snipping the wire and falling away from this reality. I looked across the room at Jason once more, catching his eyes. They were brimming with dispassion, with anger. He mouthed the words. “Meeting with the president,” in such a way that made me feel like he still had me pressed against the wall, forming his mouth over mine.

  I answered the phone in a hushed whisper. “Hello?”

  “Amanda. This is Xavier. I need to see you immediately.”

  I leaned back in the chair, then. I felt my heart beating fast in my chest. “Is your wife all right?” I asked him. I blinked wildly, knowing I was touching a nerve. I wanted to remind him who he was and what he was meant to take care of. If he left me alone—maybe I could get out of this alive and unscathed. Maybe.

  But Xavier didn’t put up with it. “I need you in my office immediately.” And then he hung up the phone.

  I felt like both the good guys and the bad guys were hounding me. I hated it. I brought my hands to my eyes and then tugged at my hair, allowing myself this sensation of real pain. It rooted me back in reality.

  I darted down the hallway, toward the Oval Office. Again, Nikolay was nowhere to be found outside the office. The secret service agent pulled open the door for me and allowed me entrance, bowing his head soundly for me. I felt like a queen, if only for a moment.

  I closed the door behind me and turned, finding the president in the center of the room instead of his usual position, behind his desk. He looked so serious. His eyebrows dipped over his eyes, and his mouth was pressed firmly
together.

  “Mr. President,” I whispered. I both hoped and didn’t that he’d brought me in there just to ask me out again, to save me from this terrifying world. I swallowed. “If this is about the campaign, I think I’d better retrieve Jason.”

  But the president held up his hand at once, shaking his head. “Please. This is a meeting between you and I, only.” He gestured forward, toward the center couch. I proceeded to sit down, bringing my long brown hair behind my ear. I felt myself quivering and I hoped he didn’t notice.

  “Amanda,” he began. He sat down hesitantly next to me, leaning toward me a bit. He brought his hand toward my face and played with a small curl that wandered around my ear. “I’m worried about you.”

  I swallowed. I peered at a painting of George Washington on the wall. What a terrifying presidency that had been; what a terrifying life Martha had had to live all those years before.

  But Xavier was still staring at me. “I think about you all the time, Amanda. You have to know that. Before, they were—blissful thoughts. Thoughts of such happiness we could have together. But now. Those thoughts have changed.” He sighed, then. He placed his hand on my knee, and I curled my toe in my shoe, wanting him. His touch felt so good. I still held my eyes toward the wall. I could hardly look at him. I knew it would draw tears.

  “My thoughts are now—affecting the presidency,” he murmured. “I can hardly focus on anything anymore. The other day, I was in a meeting with the Secretary of State and I just stared out the window, thinking of you.”

  I blinked, feeling a small tear formulate in the corner of my eye. Why was he telling me all of this?