“Breathe, Tara,” I whispered to myself as my heavily embroidered bridal dupatta was set on my head.

One hour and counting. One hour until I’d take on my role as first lady. One hour until I’d officially become Ashur’s wife and have the funds to buy Ameera back.

My stomach clenched. Exactly at noon today, my net worth would become a hundred times greater.

I wasn’t a pauper but any means. The money I’d amassed over the years through my law practice and my work for Solon would make it so I could live a fabulous life without working another single day for the rest of my life. But all my money wasn’t enough to qualify to bid for Ameera in the auction. And even though Solon had more money than anyone could imagine, there was no way the organization could enter the auction without revealing itself. The only way they could help was by manipulating technology and providing manpower when an operation was activated. Solon’s board constantly monitored any leads or rumors on her whereabouts. The second they received credible news about Ameera, they’d deploy my team. The auction and the endless coordination was actually our contingency plan.

A wave of guilt hit me. What was Ameera doing at this moment, while I was covered in a million dollars of jewelry, getting ready to marry a man for his billions?

God, I’d fallen so far from the girl with dreams of white picket fences. Instead of marrying for love as I’d always imagined, I was using Ashur for money. Yes, he was the one who offered, and the sex was an added bonus, but when it came down to it, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if it wasn’t for his money.

I’d become the whore who only wanted Ashur for his bank account as Minesh Kumar had accused me of when I was eighteen.

“Ms. Zain, you’re all set. Your bridesmaids will be here momentarily,” my wedding stylist said as she clasped the last pin into my dupatta. “Want another bottle of water?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks for making my vision come to life.”

“It was my pleasure.” Dara gave me a beaming smile. “I’m honored Ms. Neya chose me to be your wedding attendant.”

“Maybe I can convince her to lend you to me for all my events.”

“I would love that.” She checked her watch. “My ride will arrive in a few minutes. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I think a few moments to calm the nerves is all I need.”

“I never expected you to suffer from a case of anxiety. You’re always so poised.”

I almost snorted but kept it inside. It wouldn’t have been ladylike to make bodily sounds.

“Don’t tell me you bought into the ice-for-a-heart crap the media like to say.”

“No. I’ve worked for Neya for years and she would never design anything for someone she couldn’t stand.” She smiled. “Plus, I’ve seen the way you and Mr. Kumar look at each other when you think no one is watching. There is nothing cold about the fire burning between you two.”

My cheeks heated and my body tingled remembering how hard Ashur had fucked me yesterday.

Before I could respond, she spoke again. “You soften him. When he was running, many of us wondered if we could vote for a man who kept such a tight rein on his emotions. To go from a president who was ruled by temper and volatility to one that was so cold that it didn’t bother him when people referred to him as an asshole was a hard pill to swallow.”

“He was never an asshole. There are just things in his past that make him cautious.”

Like what happened when we were kids, and then of course everything he’d experienced during his three tours in the Air Force.

A throat cleared, and we both turned in Casey’s direction.

“Your bridesmaids are on their way up, and Ms. Dara’s car has arrived.”

We said a quick goodbye as Dara gathered her belongings and then exited with Casey behind her.

Taking a deep breath, I turned my attention back to my reflection in the mirror in front of the dressing table.

My long black hair was curled in large ringlets and fastened under my dupatta. My face had a natural glow that wasn’t natural at all. My makeup artist, Walter, had told me the idea was to look like I woke up gorgeous, even when my real face was hiding somewhere underneath five layers of makeup. The one thing I had wanted over the top was my eyes. I loved the artistry of doing intricate eye makeup, so I’d asked Walter to match the colors of my gown. And he hadn’t disappointed.

Yes, it wasn’t demure as was expected of the first lady, but I couldn’t care less. My wedding day, my way.

With the combination of Neya’s amazing wedding outfit, Dara’s hair expertise, and Walter’s makeup magic, I looked like I was walking off the pages of a Bollywood wedding magazine.

The only thing missing was a debonair groom. And I’d be meeting him in… I glanced at the clock. In forty-nine minutes.

After Ashur had fucked my brains out almost a day ago, we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other. He’d been called into an important meeting within minutes of entering the wedding party meeting. Whatever had happened had consumed all of his time for the rest of the day.

His absence had left me to man the family, friends, and guests. Minesh’s disposition hadn’t improved in the slightest, and so for the most part, everyone pretended to ignore his antics.

And true to Ashur’s prediction, Samina lasted all of three minutes before she walked out of the meeting room for a shot of tequila. I guess I owed Ashur a debt now.

The thing that sucked the most was to attend our rehearsal dinner with a big chunk of my wedding party missing. That’s what had happened when all my closest friends had decided to enter the political world.

Whatever had gone down must have been major. I’d almost given in to the urge to call in a few of my contacts in Solon to get the details, but restrained myself. Any snooping outside of Ameera’s case would undermine Tyler. The second I got nosy was the second I’d convey I didn’t have confidence in Tyler’s ability to handle his role as director. Solon had never had a director who held a high-level government position until Tyler, and because of this, he had to walk a very tight rope between the two roles.

My phone rang, and I grabbed it from the counter. My stomach flipped when I saw who the caller was.

“Hello, Mr. President.”

“Hello, First Lady.”

The possessive way he said those words had a shiver going down my spine.

Why did it feel so good to hear his voice?

Maybe because you haven’t gone more than half a day without talking to him in the last eighteen months.

“I’m sorry I left you to the family yesterday.”

“I’ll think of some way for you to make it up to me.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Ash, is everything okay?”

He blew out a deep breath. “Not really but there’s nothing I can do.”

I wanted to ask him to elaborate but knew he couldn’t tell me. Was this what other political wives felt?

I was as nosy as they came and not knowing the nitty gritty of a situation only piqued my curiosity more.

How does one go from being the boss to the woman behind the man? I understood that I couldn’t handle missions anymore, but I couldn’t even practice law. I was a kickass lawyer, but no one would see that now that I’d be Ashur’s wife.

Snap out of it, Tara. Stop thinking about your change in circumstances and focus on being there for the man who seems more stressed than he should be on his wedding day.

“We can stay in Washington so you can handle whatever crisis is going on. I won’t be upset if we have to cancel our honeymoon.”

“God, no. It’s the only thing keeping this day on the right track. I want a few days alone with you where I’m not the president. I just want to be a man spending time with his wife. Will you let me be your husband? Will you for a few days pretend there are no bargains or financial gains? That there is no contract stipulating a baby? That you and I are a couple who are completely into each other?”

I swallowed. Dear God. What could have happened? Ashur never sounded so vulnerable. It was as if he was resigned to a complete and inevitable fallout.

“Whatever’s going on, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Mr. President.”

He released another sigh, then said, “Fuck. I just messed up my hair. That battle ax in charge of my attire is going to kick my ass.”

“Ashu, I can’t believe you’re afraid of Neya. She barely comes to your shoulder.”

When Neya had said she would make sure Ashur was dressed the way a president should dress for his wedding, I’d almost felt sorry for Ashur. Neya was the epitome of tiny but mighty. No one got in the way of her fashion sense, even a six-foot-three president.

“I’m afraid of you, and you’re shorter than her.”

“Whatever,” I muttered.

“Besides, I know things about her the average Joe would never know.”

“Like what?”

All the fine hairs on my arm prickled. He couldn’t know she worked for Solon.

“The same thing you’re hiding.”

“And that is?” I probed.

“That both of you are fifth-degree black belts in jujitsu.”

Relief washed over me.

“Who told you?”

“I have my sources.”

There was only one person who would threaten the president without fear of consequences. And she was the one who promised retribution for the exhausting night we’d had last night.

“Sam told you. That girl was planning painful ways to make you pay last night.”

Ashur laughed. “Yes. She actually threatened that Neya would literally kick my ass with her mad skills if I left her alone with Papa ever again.”

“Samina and I were thinking along the same lines. But it wasn’t Neya who I envisioned kicking your ass, it was me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Absolutely. Name the time and place.”

He chuckled and I knew the little fun banter had eased whatever tension that was weighing on his shoulders.

“The last thing I plan to do on my honeymoon is fight with my wife. My goal is to fuck her senseless.”

His words brought forth all the dirty, naked fantasies I’d harbored for Ashur over the past fifteen years.

“Umm…okay.” I licked my lips.

Images of him pounding into me flashed in my mind.

Dammit, Tara. You’re supposed to counsel him, not think about fucking him.

I had to get myself on sane ground if I was going to make it through the wedding reception.

“I have an idea.”

“The answer is no.”

“But you haven’t even heard my suggestion.”

“Ashur, I know what you’re thinking, and no, we can’t skip our own wedding.”

“How did you figure those were my thoughts?”

“Because I remember what you were like after we slept together when we were younger. You wanted to skip every gathering, party, or event to get laid. I know you.”

“You’re probably the only person who does.”

His tone had changed back to the worried one.

I guessed it didn’t matter that it was the president’s wedding day—he still had a twenty-four/seven job to do.

“Ash, are you sure you’re okay?”

“There are things I can’t discuss with you, but it means a lot that you care enough to ask.”

There was a touch of longing to his response that made my heart contract.

“I understand.” Probably more than he realized.

I had so many secrets that I wasn’t sure how Ashur would react once he found all of them out. I wanted to believe he’d stand by me and fight for me if he ever learned what I was or had done, but there was always something in the back of my mind making me think I couldn’t depend on him.

“Tara?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think we can ever get back to what we lost when we were young?”

Why was he saying this when he was the one who wanted an iron-clad agreement stating where he stood on our relationship?

“Ashur, I don’t know what you want me to say. I have no idea what will happen between us. There’s a lot of history. I’m not that girl anymore and neither are you the boy I knew.”

“I just wish sometimes that I’d questioned all the shit Papa had said about you. I wish I’d fought for us a little more.”

“I wished that for a long time too. But we can’t change the past, Ash. All we can do is not fall into the same traps again.”

“I suppose.”

What the hell was going on that he sounded so vulnerable? Where was the man that took no shit from anyone? The one who scared the crap out of friend and foe alike?

I wanted to reach through the phone and tell him it would be okay, even though I knew I couldn’t do it.

“We can have a happy life together. Everything else we’ll figure out as we go.”

He remained quiet for a moment, then spoke. “I want to tear the contract up. I want it to be the way we were before all the shit Papa put us through. I want you to love me the way you did when you were eighteen. I want it about to be about us, not the election or the money I promised you.”

Oh God. I couldn’t do this right now.

Dammit Ashur, why now? Why not two years ago?

“Ash, we can’t go back in time. Our reality is that we have an agreement.”

“I know. I’m telling you what I thought. I’d understand your hesitation after what I’d said when we signed the contract. I shouldn’t have told you it was only ever going to be business with a side of sex. I was an asshole. I must be more like him than I believed.”

“You’re not an asshole. And you’re nothing like him.”

“I am.”

I could hear Neya saying something, and I knew Ash was in trouble.

“Okay, I have to go. Neya is glaring at me and has a spray bottle and a comb to make me look presentable.”

“Good luck.” I laughed and the tension of the second earlier disappeared. “Ashur?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you in a few. I’ll be the girl wearing enough jewelry to blind everyone in sight and expensive enough to fund a small country for ten years.”

“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful, Commander.”

We hung up and I closed my eyes.

I was doing the right thing by not getting his hopes up, by not telling him I wanted to make it real. Then why did I feel like shit?

Because it’s not him you’re protecting, it’s you.

At that moment, Jacinta walked in with a tray of shots and set them on a table near me. “Dear God. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I gave her a weary smile.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nerves.” It wasn’t a complete lie but a believable one.

“Here, take one, but don’t fuck up your lipstick or Walter will kick our asses.”

I took the shot of tequila she handed me and then downed it in one gulp.

“Give me another.”

Just as I reached for more liquid courage, Samina entered my dressing room. She had Mira cocked on her side, while the little angel cooed and played with the necklace on her mother’s neck.

“Woman, you’re pregnant,” Samina said, shifting Mira from one hip to the other. “Do you know the shit the press will say if they get a picture of a very pregnant Senator Camden-George with alcohol?”

“Probably something like my conservative morals have been swayed by marrying a liberal.” Jacinta gave Sam a nonchalant wave and took a seat in an empty chair next to me.

She tugged at the material along her very large belly and then rubbed her stomach. She was gorgeous on a normal day with her long, always well-groomed blond hair, Amazon height, and supermodel features, but pregnant she glowed.

“You make it look so easy.” I leaned over, grabbed a bottle of water, and sucked through the straw Walter had put in it so I wouldn’t ruin my lipstick. Hopefully he wouldn’t make a surprise inspection and find the shot glass on the counter. “In fact, both of you do. I don’t think either of you has complained about nausea or morning sickness.”

“Just you wait. I’ve never seen you do anything without rocking any endeavor. Pregnancy won’t be any different.” Jacinta reached out, plucked the bottle from my fingers, and then took a sip.

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

I had a feeling when my time came I wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Why are we talking about babies? You have to get married first.” Samina pulled her necklace out of Mira’s mouth and handed her a teething ring. “She might be knocked up now. Especially since she’s been secretly going at it with my brother the whole time.”

Well, hell. Let’s tell the world I was boning Ashur.

Bitch.

“Cat got your tongue?” Sam smirked.

Before I could respond, Casey walked in, signaling that it was time for the wedding.