Billionaire In Hiding: The Complete Series (Alpha Billionaire Romance Western Love Story) (111 page)

We
were making it all up as we went along.

Chapter 2

I went
back to Rachel’s house that evening, naturally. She was watching an old
made-for-television movie and eating ice cream. She had oversized sweatpants on
around her thin waist, and she tapped at the couch beside her, asking me to sit
down. I did it, bringing my hands over my stomach. It still quaked from my
conversation with the president.

“Can I
ask you a question?” I asked Rachel, then. I dipped my own spoon into the ice
cream—a chocolate mint—and stabbed it into my mouth. The sugary drippings slid
down my tongue.

“Shoot,”
Rachel told me, nodding.

“Well.
I wondered. I wondered if you’d ever been in love,” I said quietly. I felt the
pangs of my love for the president—was it love??—coursing through me. I took
another bite of ice cream.

She
considered my words for a moment. She allowed the ice cream to pass over her
tongue. “I think I loved my high school boyfriend. Isn’t that silly?”

I
laughed, feeling a bit of joy escalate through my body. “It’s a little silly.
You can still feel the love? That’s how you know?” I asked.

She
shook her head. “I don’t feel the love, exactly. It’s more that I feel a memory
of that love, you know? I remember loving him. His name was Alex Crawford, and
we fought constantly—constantly! It was a mess. But then I’d cry, and he’d
apologize over and over again. And then it was okay. You know?”

I
shook my head, cackling a bit. “I don’t think I loved anyone before,” I
murmured, bringing my head back to my affair with the president.” I took
another bite of the ice cream. “This stuff is going to make me sick.”

Rachel
laughed, setting the ice cream on the coffee table before her. A small dripping
from the spoon landed on the coffee table. She blinked at me. “How long do you
think you’ll stay?” she asked me. Her voice quaked.

I
pursed my lips. I couldn’t go back to the apartment. I’d been there a few
times, of course—only to grab clothes, to dash in and dash out. But the place
felt like a wasteland. A wasteland in which a single eyeball—like a great
sun—burned into me. “I’m not sure, Rachel,” I whispered, feeling terrible. I
couldn’t put her out like this. “But I’ll—I’ll definitely be out soon.”

She
brought her hand over my hand. “You can stay as long as you like. I’m just
worried about you, is all. That something bigger is going on.” Her eyes
searched my face, but I wouldn’t give it away.

I
nodded. “You’ll be the first to know when there’s danger afoot,” I stated,
shrugging a bit.

She
brought herself up on her feet and raised her hands to the sky, stretching her
back. She cracked her neck a bit. “All right, Amanda. Good night.” She
clattered to her room. I heard her flop onto her bed; I heard her light snores
emanating from the back bedroom. I shivered and brought a blanket over my body
on the couch.

The
next morning, I awoke with a pit in my stomach. God, the stress was eating me
alive. I brought my hand over it, kneading at the skin, at the internal organs
that seemed to scream up at me. I tapped into the kitchen and poured myself a
glass of water. I closed my eyes as I drank it, feeling the cool rain pass over
me.

It was
still very early—before six—and I got dressed quickly thinking I could head
into work early to get things done. All the while, as I tugged a new skirt over
my hips, as I applied my makeup, my mind replayed the events of the previous
few weeks. Not only were there photos of Xavier and I out there in the world,
controlled only by the scariest, most dangerous man alive, but Xavier—that stunning
man—had told me that he wanted to leave his wife for me. I pictured Camille’s
face as I brushed my teeth, only for a moment taking delight in the fact that
Xavier wanted to dump this woman for me. This incredibly powerful, beautiful
woman. He wanted me, instead.

Or did
he?

It was
never easy to note what the passing fancy of a gentleman was when comparing it
to a real, tactile, true love.

Of
course, I was flattered. I could still feel his penetrating gaze, the way he
wrapped his hand around my hips as I fucked him, feeling him so deep inside me.
He was the most attractive, most assertive, most powerful man I’d ever met in
my life. And our attraction to each other seemed to rival anything else.

I
grabbed my bag and swept into the morning. Washington D.C. was glorious in the
September sunshine. I knew it would grow cold soon, that the winter would drape
over the city and leave us in sadness and big, oversized coats.

I
hailed a taxi and popped into the back, telling him to take the long way to the
White House. I knew that I would be the first to arrive; I knew that when I
crowded into that front door, even the president himself would still be
sleeping in his bed—beside his wife. I shivered but kept my head up, my nose
toward the sun.

The
monuments were gleaming as we passed them. The Washington monument snuck up
into the coming blue like a surprise. I lurched forward in my seat to catch
every image of the monuments, like I’d never seen them before. It seemed that
the morning—so early—was untainted. I swallowed.

The
taxi dropped me off at the White House, and I tapped toward the door. A Secret
Service agent stood outside, waiting for me. He wore sunglasses in the coming
light. He nodded toward me. I nodded back and snuck into the massive home. I
imagined myself, in those moments, entering the White House in several years as
the Secretary of State, as the Vice President of the United States. Perhaps
even as the President of the United States herself. I shivered as I sauntered
down the hallway, knowing that if I had agreed to be with the president, to
allow him to leave his wife for me, my career would have halted at the wall. I
would have watched it fizzle and die before me. I’d be popping out kids in a
few years—kids for the president. And then: we’d retire together.

I
wasn’t ready for that life! I wanted to live; I wanted to experience so many
things.

I
found myself at my desk once more. I began finalizing the press release from
the previous day, nodding my head along with the words. I felt the people on
the campaign team appear around me, dip into their chairs, and prepare
themselves for the day. I was their leader. I had to begin acting like I cared,
like this meant something to me. I had to refute my feelings for the president.

In a
perfect world, I would have had everything. I would have had leadership; I
would have had love. But right then, it wasn’t in the cards. So I stood up on
the other side of my desk. I clapped my hands loudly, with authority.
“Attention, team,” I called to them. They turned toward me, their eyes bright.
“We have a big day ahead of us. I want serious productivity out of each and
every one of you. This will be the most difficult job of your career. But it’s
one that will ultimately put you ahead in life. And you know it.” I sniffed
toward them and watched as they scurried back to work, like mice.

I sat
once more, peering down the dark hallway that I knew led down to the Oval
Office. Figures at the other end of the hallway—all the way toward the
president’s living quarters—appeared. The woman had draped her arm over her
husband’s. They didn’t speak. Rather, they held their faces forward and walked
like a massive animal—all of their parts lining up so well.

I
nodded to myself and leaned back toward my computer. I knew it was Camille and
Xavier. I knew that all was right in the world, that this was where I was meant
to be—that they were where they were meant to be, as well.

Life
would go on the way it was meant to.

Chapter 3

The
day swept by quickly. I received several emails from across the country and had
a Skype call with a woman from California who would be greeting us on our next
campaign trail. I met with Jason in the small office in which he’d initially
shown me those horrific photos all those weeks ago. We talked about normal
things, but all the while, I sensed a sort of humor about him—like he knew
precisely how much power he had over me, like he knew that he’d altered the
course of my life with just a few clicks of his spy cameras. Check. Mate.

“You
don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to California with the president, do
you?” Jason asked me, his face a bit shiny with grease, with acne. His eyes
were filled with off-beat humor.

I
frowned. “I don’t know what you mean, Jason,” I calmly. “I’m the campaign
manager. I’m obviously going to California with the president to oversee all
the events and keep him on track.” I shrugged. And then, I leaned forward. “And
if you think there’s anything still going on with me and the president, you’re
sorely mistaken.” My breath was lined with hatred, with anger. I scowled at
him.

But
Jason just laughed. “All right. But you do know that we’re that I have the
ultimate power over you. Right?” He smirked at me. “Otherwise, I can bring out
a few of those photographs.”

I
stood up quickly from my chair across from him. “Are you ever going to grow
up?” I hissed at him, shaking my head. “Fuck you.”

I spun
around, feeling haughty. I felt like I couldn’t turn anywhere without being
accosted by something, without someone propositioning me. Both Jason and Xavier
were like brick walls before me that I continually banged my head against,
hurting myself over and over. But I saw no sign of release, I saw no sign of
help. I sighed and pushed into the breezy hallway, hearing the laughter from
Jason in the room behind me.

Everywhere
I looked on the walk back from the small office, I felt like people’s eyes were
on me, like they were watching me. I felt my heart constrict in my chest.
Suppose—suppose they suspected something? Suppose they knew that I was sleeping
with the president? Suppose they knew that I was essentially under Jason’s
thumb, without any control? I cleared my throat, ready to attract some people’s
eyes. But no one looked up, like I was invisible or something. I shivered.

I sat
at my desk and tapped my fingers against the wood, feeling incredibly foolish.
I watched as Jason sauntered back into the room. His shirt sort of poked out
around his belt. So unkempt, I thought; what a goddamned mess. And yet so
organized that he could actually get the better of me. Incredible.

The
terror of my life was escalating around me. I felt like I was losing grip. I
couldn’t even go back to my beautiful apartment—the apartment I had worked so
hard to get, to organize, to decorate. The apartment that felt so dirty now.

I
looked down the hallway and saw that Camille had just exited the Oval Office.
She looked arrogant. She was all elbows, with this short, pixie haircut. She
nodded to the Secret Service agent and then stomped down the hallway. I
wondered what sort of discussion they’d had. I wondered if she knew he was
having an affair, if she could smell it on him like some women could. I
remembered that the man I’d slept with from Congress had had a wife. She’d
suspected, he’d told me. She’d known just from the happiness about him, from
the jaunt in his step. “We’re meant to die unhappy,” he’d said, stroking my
back in bed. His hair was course on his chest.

I
tapped my fingers: one, two, three, four, five, as I watched Camille storm into
the other side of the house. I thought of her husband—a man, I realized then,
who I’d come to believe was far more mine than anyone else’s. Was I okay with
sharing him? I wasn’t sure. I felt the rage billow through me; I felt that I
should absolutely dart down the hallway and take advantage of this one thing in
my life that gave me joy, that gave me an escape from everything else
continually going to shit.

Xavier.
Xavier.

Even
his name was so sensual. I was always so worried about us, about what was going
to happen if people found out. But I knew that Xavier didn’t have these fears.
So why was I so eternally befuddled with this problem? Why was I running away
from the only thing that made my heart brim, made my lips smile? Why was I
falling away from it?

I took
a deep breath. I closed my eyes, and I tried to listen to my heart for the
first time in my all-too-professional life. I felt the beats course through me.
This was a bad situation. But I had to take advantage of it. I had to feel his
dick inside me once more. I had to be a part of this.

I had
to follow this pleasure down the White House rabbit hole, certain that I’d
never come back for air.

Chapter 4

I
tapped the long rod against the board behind me, explaining the campaign to a
few of the team members. “We have to assert to the American people our sure and
steady comprehension of education, of readying American children for a better
future.” I nodded my head, gazing at each of the team members’ assertive eyes.
They were each ready to go into the campaign world and take over, make
something of themselves. Truly, I was rooting for them.

Suddenly,
I felt a shadow pass over the back of the crowd. My eyes darted up, and I found
myself eye-to-eye with Xavier. I hadn’t spoken with him in several days, and
just his presence in the room seemed to make my entire body shake. I raised my
eyebrows. “Any questions?”