Billionaire In Hiding: The Complete Series (Alpha Billionaire Romance Western Love Story) (108 page)

“I guess it has. I’m with this new
campaign. One of the leaders,” I stated, nodding.

“Well. You always had a thing for Xavier,
right? So this must be nice for you.” Rachel smiled at me. Did she know?

I laughed, shaking my head. “That man is a
trip. If he didn’t run the nation, I’d probably kill him.” I knew this wasn’t
true; I knew that Xavier was an incredible man—a man I truly was falling in
love with. But I had to put on a face for Rachel. Rachel laughed good-naturedly,
but there was definitely something different about her—something resigned. We
didn’t have the same relationship anymore.

Rachel set down her glass, and I heard it
clink on the wood. “Amanda. Do you remember that I was really pretty good at reading
people?” she asked me then.

I nodded, remembering it. I flashed a
smile. “I remember you guessed the other candidate was lying. We wrote a speech
about it. And he had been lying.”

Rachel nodded, nearly laughing. “I didn’t
guess; I knew.”

“Anyway. Yes. You were good at reading
people,” I stated, suddenly feeling uncertain but allowing her to continue.

She cleared her throat. “I can read you. I
know that something’s wrong. I know you’re still in that poisonous environment.
Are they eating you alive, like they do the other women? You have to tell me.”
Rachel brought her hand over the table and draped it over my fingers, looking
at me in the eyes. She pulsed with understanding. I felt like I could tell her
anything, like the old times.

But then: I knew what she would say.

She would tell me that I should turn Jason
in.

She would tell me that I should take the
consequences to my career.

She would tell me that I should allow the
photos to be viewed by millions and millions of people.

She would tell me that I deserved a better
life and a better career.

But it wasn’t true. Not for me. I was
doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. I couldn’t imagine myself doing
anything else. I swallowed, trying to think of something to say. Rachel’s cat
came sauntering into the room, meowing. Her eyes were yellow, glaring at me.
Telling me to answer. Answer.

“Oh. Work is just so stressful,” I finally
said, placing my head in my hand. “You were right to get out when you did.
Although, of course, I’m addicted to it. I love it. I love the work. I love the
pulse of it. The emotion of it. But sometimes, it’s nice to turn to someone and
speak out your problems. You know?”

Rachel raised her left eyebrow toward me.
I knew she didn’t trust me. She swallowed slowly and flung her shortened red
hair across her shoulder in a way that made me understand that she expected
more to be there when she made the move. More hair. More of herself. “You can
still get out, you know,” she said, her eyes glowing.

“I know,” I murmured. I faked a yawn and
stretched my hands into the air, feeling my spine pop inside me. “I think I
need to hit the sack. Thanks for being my ears—and my home tonight, Rachel.”

Rachel still looked at me curiously. “Of
course,” she whispered.

I stretched out on the couch, then,
placing my wine glass on the coffee table. I aligned my feet with the edge of
the couch, and I dug my head into the pillow. In a moment, all comprehension of
the previous day fell away.

I finally found sleep.

Chapter
10

The next day, I rose early. My back felt
so crooked from sleeping on the couch and I stretched on Rachel’s floor,
listening to her as she readied herself for the day. She’d told me she’d become
an editor at a publishing company—that she was finally pursuing her dreams. I
wanted to proclaim that I’d thought politics were her dream. But I didn’t.

I steadied my hand as I prepared the
coffee in the coffee pot, remembering that Rachel liked her coffee with just a
bit of milk—no sugar. I prepared it and had it waiting for her as she tapped out
of her room. Her face looked fresh; she didn’t look as tired as she had the day
before. “I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable on the couch?”

I shook my head, sipping my black coffee.
“Of course not.”

We shared a taxi to our work places. We
didn’t speak; we stared out of different windows. But when we swept in front of
the White House, I could feel that she was impressed. In a small way, I knew I
had won. But I also knew that she didn’t know anything that I had to face in
that terrorizing house; she didn’t understand that I was a puppet, in hiding.

I turned toward her while I unbuckled
myself. “Thanks for letting me crash last night,” I said, flashing her a White
House smile. No longer did I want to resemble that tired, weak woman who’d
taken up on her couch the evening before, nearly quivering with fear. I
couldn’t be that person.

I stepped into the September sunlight
without waiting for her response. I flung the sunglasses up over my forehead
and entered the White House, allowing the Secret Service men to pat me down in
that familiar manner. I greeted them and sauntered in, knowing in my heart and
in my mind that that day, I had to fulfill my promise to Jason. I had to alert
the president that he wanted a meeting with him; I had to make this happen for
him.

Otherwise, I was screwed.

The Secret Service agent allowed me
entrance to the Oval Office, and I found Xavier speaking quietly with the Vice
President by the window. They both turned toward me, a bit surprised. “Hello,
Amanda,” Xavier stated with such precision. “I believe you’ve met Raymond.”

I nodded graciously and extended my hand,
allowing the sour man before me to place his lips on my skin. I quivered. “So
good to see you again.”

Xavier nodded toward Raymond and
continued. “I think we can wrap that up with them on our next trip to China.
Don’t you?”

“As long as they don’t cook that terrible
food again,” Raymond chortled, laughing at his own joke. He spun from the room.
I watched as his upper body seemed to bulge from its shirt.

Xavier turned toward me as the door
closed, and I felt the tension between us brimming. He was waiting for me to
say something, but I had suddenly forgotten why I’d needed to see him in the
first place. Think, Amanda! Think!

But then, finally, he sighed. “All right,
Amanda. I see you’ve come to see me, instead of me having to summon you. What a
nice change of pace.” His voice was a bit tactful, but his smile was warm. I
accepted it graciously.

“Xavier, I’m afraid I have a question for
you,” I began, steamrolling down my required conversation once more. I felt my
stomach begin to curdle a bit with nerves. “Jason would like a private meeting
with you, Mr. President,” I stated trying with hide any drop of emotion in my
voice. “He’s assured me that it’s completely confidential and absolutely
imperative.”

Xavier raised his eyebrow toward me,
unsure. He sat at his desk, tapping his nose with his long finger. “And why do
you think Jason wants to see me, Amanda?”

“I’m certainly not the one to ask,” I
answered, feeling my heart racing in my chest. I felt like I was either going to
die on the carpet or run out of there screaming. I held my ground, somehow.

“You aren’t the one to ask?” the president
murmured. “I find that highly unlikely.”

I swallowed. The whole thing was messy,
and I knew it. I wanted the president to be safe from the knowledge of the
photographs. I had no idea what Jason was up to. But I knew I couldn’t trust
him; I couldn’t allow him to ruin this presidency. “Just promise you’ll stand
your ground with him?” I whispered.

Xavier stood up, alarmed. He seemed nearly
angry, and I wanted to take it back—to yield the fact that I didn’t think he
was a weak president, that he could certainly hold his own. But Xavier saw the
expression of fear on my face, and he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a
step back, toward the window. “Have dinner with me tonight, Amanda,” he stated,
looking at me as if I were an injured dog.

I bowed my head, knowing that I could not.
This went against the entire plan. I couldn’t grow close to the president once
more. There was too much at stake. “I’m sorry, Xavier. You know I can’t do
that.” This was all I could say.

But Xavier spun around the desk in a
simple motion, stepping toward me. His nose was mere inches from mine, and I
felt his breath hot against my lips. I closed my eyes, trying not to give into
temptation. But instead of kissing me, he began to whisper: “I need to know
what’s going on with you. With everything.” His eyes were searching around the
room haphazardly. “The evening will be secure. No one will know about it. Is
that clear?”

My body felt all wrong, like my joints
were in the wrong places. I swallowed, knowing, then, that Xavier suspected
something. But I didn’t want him to know about any of it; I had to keep it all
a secret. And so I swallowed. And I agreed that I could have dinner with him.
Just one dinner. I would flirt. I would smile. And then, at the end of the
night, I wouldn’t have to date him again. And he wouldn’t be any wiser about
the photographs.

Chapter
11

I jumped out of the Oval office, then, and
found myself in a continuous daydream about Xavier—about the evening in which
we would gaze at each other, alone, without prying eyes. Of course I knew I
couldn’t allow it to happen. I knew it was completely insane. But this was, in
so many ways, what I wanted.

I rushed down the hall. As I spun into the
great hall in which so many workers were flying through phone calls, creating
such havoc, I smiled to myself for just a moment. What we were creating was
truly wonderful. We were prolonging a beautiful presidency and the happiness of
so many Americans.

Suddenly, I felt it: the hand on my
shoulder. It grabbed the fine fabric of my blue and white striped blazer and
tugged my back—literally like a puppet. I felt like a ragdoll as I was dropped
into the seat in front of Jason. He unwrapped his grip from me and adjusted his
own sloppy shirt. “My Amanda. How are you doing today?”

I felt my mouth open with such shock. I
wanted to cry out, to attack him with ravenous nails. But instead, I simply
stated: “I’m fine, sir. And how are you?” like the dutiful puppet I was.

Jason seemed pleased with himself,
entertaining himself with my discomfort. I cleared my throat slightly and
watched as he brought his pen tip to his mouth, over and over again, while
raising his eyebrow. He looked like he was in the midst of a massive twitch. “I
wondered if you’d had a chance to talk to your little friend lately?”

“You mean the President of the United
States?” I asked him, scoffing a bit.

He nodded, not acknowledging my snark. I
bit my lip for a moment, trying to finagle my way out of the conversation.
Behind me, a young girl—an intern—dropped an entire wad of white papers and
allowed them to stream like kites throughout the office. Jason clapped his
hands suddenly, forcing me into a state of shock, and yelled out, “CLEAN IT
UP!”

I cleared my throat. “Anyway. I did speak
with him, and he’s inclined to have a meeting with you. This afternoon, if
you’re lucky.” I tipped my head.

Jason smiled. He looked like an oversized
baby when he smiled like that: so gape-toothed and pulsing with fat. “You’re
doing a swell job, Amanda,” he stated then. I felt like he was my teacher.
“Gosh, you’re doing such a swell job. I don’t know what we would do around here
if it weren’t for you.”

I wanted to spit on the ground. He was
treating me with such disdain in that moment. I’d been dragged through the mud
because of those photos; I’d been made to do ridiculous things. Most of all,
I’d been made to fear for the career I’d worked so hard for. It hung like a
string, now. Would he allow it to break?

Suddenly, he brought his fingers into the
air, pointed downward. He waved me off with them, forcing me up from my chair
and back toward my sad, crooked desk in the corner. I felt like a piece of gum
at the bottom of someone’s shoe. My only purpose was to cry to old friends,
sleep on couches, and then come to work and do whatever Jason wanted.

I sat at my desk and stared at my computer
screen for a while, blinking evenly and feeling more like a robot than a
person. I knew that at two in the afternoon, we’d have our press release
meeting. The president was declaring another few aspects of the education
reform bill. It was his baby—the very reason he’d been elected in the first
place. Now, in the second term, he would enhance it and re-structure it to work
out the kinks. It was a great plan—a wonderful way wave on which to ride out
the rest of the election.

I didn’t go to lunch, even as I watched
the interns, Jason, and the Secret Service agents shoving salads and burgers
down their throats. I shuddered at them, feeling the aching emptiness in my
stomach. Would I ever feel normal again? I was continually feeling like I was
having an out-of-body experience.

Suddenly, and all too soon, it was two in
the afternoon. Xavier appeared at the far end of the hallway and he sauntered
toward us. The room grew quiet and Jason stood, nodding his head toward the
president—all but saluting him. I stood, as well, as he entered. I held my hand
over my stomach, listening to the way it was erupting inside of me.

I kicked into gear. The press release was
still my main duty. “Hello, Mr. President.” I felt every person’s young eyes on
me as I walked toward him, taking his arm and guiding him through the press
release proceedings that I had outlined. As we passed Jason’s desk, Xavier
leaned toward him, over the desk. They shook hands, and Xavier pointed toward
the press release.

“What do you think of this?” he asked
Jason. The entire room remained so quiet.

Jason looked beyond Xavier, toward my
face. His face was actually leering at me, making me feel like I was only three
inches tall. I felt my stomach drop out beneath me.

“Honestly, Mr. President, I think the
press release needs a little work,” Jason spoke, then. His voice was so light,
so bouncy. He was saving his friendliest self for the president, I knew. All
around us, the workers were poised, ready to get to action when we approved the
press release.

Xavier raised his eyebrow at this,
uncertain. “You think it needs work?” He turned to the paper. He nodded. “A
bit, perhaps.” He handed it back to me, not unkindly. “Just a few minor tweaks
here and there should be fine,” he stated, nodding.

Jason’s smile was so large. I held angry
eye contact with him, even as the president turned toward the great
congregation of workers and presented himself. “Hello, my campaign workers.
Today, we’re rolling out the next step in my education reform plan, and I
couldn’t be more grateful to have each and every one of you on board.” He
sniffed for a moment. “When the television turns on tonight in homes all over
the world, you know what they’re going to learn about? They’re going to learn
about the ways in which we—we here together—are going to educate the nation’s
children in positive ways.”

The people let out a great cheer. My heart
had stretched itself in my chest. I brought my hands together and applauded
with the rest of them, glancing over for only a moment to see that Jason had
stood up and directed lewd motions toward me—motions that reminded me, of
course, of the photos he had stock-piled at his home office computer, I was
certain. I brought my hands to my stomach, feeling waves of disgust and anger.
Would I ever feel normal again?

Xavier called me to Jason’s desk, then,
and the three of us—like some awkward three-some—worked through the outline,
scratching things out and rewording. Jason had far too much say in the final
product and my blood was boiling. But I couldn’t say anything. Everything I suggested
was automatically vetoed by the harsh voice of Jason—so authoritative in the
rushing, chaotic room.

I bit my lip and looked up at the
president, feeling Jason’s leering eyes on me. Xavier was completely enthralled
in his work, patiently making notes in his small planner. I wondered if he’d
written a small note for me—for me that evening, somewhere in the book. I
wondered if it was written in code.

But I couldn’t linger on this. I held my
hand over my stomach and I told the men that I was suffering from a
stomachache. Anxiety pangs were eating my heart, my lungs, my throat, and my
stomach, anyway. I couldn’t stand there a moment longer. I rushed from the room
in a sort of haze, still feeling the determination in Jason’s face.

He wanted to destroy me.

Chapter
12

After nearly growing sick in the bathroom,
I found myself back at my desk, my head between my legs. A small bead of sweat
had dropped down my forehead, toward my nose. I felt like a mess, but I knew
the workday wasn’t close to being over—that I still had so many lonely, anxious
hours without Xavier by my side. I could feel his presence back in the office.

When I lurched back from the bottom ethers
of my desk, I found that the room no longer held Jason. He was missing from his
desk, leaving only a sad pile of papers on the edge. I brought my hands to my
hair, tugging a bit and remembering that he was probably meeting with Xavier
while I sat there, so alone in my reverie. The thought of it panicked me. I
brought a Kleenex over my eyes, over my mouth, trying to find a way to breathe
normally.

But suddenly, the Oval Office door erupted
down the hall, bringing Jason back into the world like a messy birth. He looked
quite pleased with himself as he walked, bouncing a bit and allowing his belly
to arch high into the air. His eyes were directly on me from the distance, and
I held the eye contact, daring it to approach. I couldn’t be so afraid of him
anymore. He’d gotten his meeting with the president. What more was he going to
ask me for, now? He had a direct fucking line.

He came to me and flung his hands onto the
desk, forcing the photo of me and my mother down onto the ground. He ticked his
tongue at the top of his mouth and he looked at me playfully. “You know, I just
had a really fine meeting with the president.”

My heart quickened. I sat still in my
chair, looking up at him. I blinked wildly. “And?”

I didn’t want to give him any
satisfaction. But the satisfaction seemed to come from himself, regardless.

“Of course, I can’t tell you anything. Not
here.” He waggled his eyebrows high on his face, and my insides squirmed.

I stood, pointing my finger on the
now-empty desk between us. I stabbed it down, harder and harder. “You’re going
to tell me what’s going on, Jason. You didn’t tell him about the—“

But Jason just brought his finger to his
lips in a jerking motion, shaking his head quickly. “Nope nope! Don’t want to
give away any trade secrets.” He spun around, then, leaving me at my desk alone
once more. He sauntered down the hallway, back toward the bathroom. I felt like
I lived in a sea of doubt, of uncertainty. When the fuck was I going to get out
of here?

But I had hope.

That evening, I would be with Xavier. I
would be with him; comfortable, even if a bit nervous because of the events of
the day. I couldn’t tell him anything, certainly. The mere fact that I was
having dinner with him was far too risky.

I dressed in my bedroom, kneeling beside
the dresser, trying to make sure I wasn’t revealed to the camera—wherever it
lurked. I righted myself and peered in the mirror at my slim frame, at my
gorgeous brunette hair. I still looked good, I knew. Even after all I’d been
through; even after all I’d worked for. I still looked good.

Out in front of my apartment building sat
a Secret Service vehicle. I slid myself into it, and we sped into the night. I
thought for a moment about the education press release—how it had already been met
with incredible acclaim. I felt a burning burst of pride.

We arrived at the White House—that joyful
beacon of white light. I hopped from the cab and tapped to the front door.
However, I suddenly felt a hand on my elbow. I peered up, frightened, at the man
beside me. “Dimitri?” I asked him.

“The president has requested we take a
side entrance,” Dimitri stated, not a single ounce of happiness in his voice. I
followed his lead, down the steps, around the side of the massive house. I had
never entered from this particular door. He opened it for me and searched the
interior before allowing me to enter.

“Where are we?” I whispered.

“Secret arena. The president holds his
top-secret meetings here.”

“And I’m top-secret?” I whispered, unsure
of how to feel.

“We certainly don’t think that will be
true for long,” NIkolay muttered. Perturbed, I didn’t say anything in response.

His irritation with me made my heart cold,
my fingers jittery. I followed behind him, down the steps, noting a soft glow
at the back of a small room. He gestured with his massive arm, allowing me to
pass him. My eyes were bright, trying to catch his. But he wouldn’t return my
eye contact.

I entered the room and found a small table
set with long, luxurious candles. The candlelight was the only illumination in
the room, casting a soft, ghostly glow over everything. I could see Xavier in
the light. He stood before me: the most handsome man I’d ever seen. I swallowed
and walked toward him, feeling like I was going to meet my doom.