Around ten thirty, I wrapped up the fitting and any remaining paperwork. This left me with enough time to get to the Executive Residence before the pre-wedding briefing. It almost sounded ridiculous to have such precautions for a wedding, but then I wasn’t marrying a regular man and the security needed for the media frenzy was twice as intense as it had been for Ashur’s inauguration day.

Samina and Jacinta were used to the spotlight of the camera, but the rest of the wedding party wasn’t, and I wanted to make sure they understood all the precautions we’d put in place. Everyone who was part of the wedding, from the parents and friends to extended family, would stay at the Invictus, a hotel owned by one of Jacinta’s close friends, Kevin Stanton. He’d literally shut down the entire building to house the wedding party and increased security so much that Ashur had joked it was more protected than Fort Knox. The only people not staying at the hotel were the invited international dignitaries. They caused a security nightmare that required their own hotel and team.

“Good morning, First Lady,” came a voice to my left as I entered the main hall.

A middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair and one of the sweetest demeanors I’d ever encountered smiled at me. She was one of the morning housekeepers who kept everything dust free and sparkling. She had worked for the last three administrations and knew all the ins and outs of the building. She could have retired years ago, but she enjoyed her position, and as she’d told me not so long ago, she refused to let some know-it-all take her job and change things.

“I’m not first lady yet, Annabelle.”

“In less than twenty-four hours you will be, and then you can redecorate this place with your own sense of style.” Eleanor turned her nose up at a few antique figurines near her, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I could always use a dose of Annabelle to cheer me up. Too bad my decorating sense was lacking. I wasn’t sure she’d approve of anything I’d pick. Now show me some designer clothing or an arsenal of handguns, and I was the girl for the job.

“I’ll make sure to consult you before deciding on anything. You would know better than anyone what this place needs to liven it up. Does that sound like a plan?”

Her eyes lit up. “I would love that.”

“Ms. Zain, this way. Your family is waiting for you in the Yellow Oval Room to go over the final details of the wedding.” Casey directed me up a flight of stairs leading to the second floor.

The moment I stepped onto the landing, I saw Veer George, Ashur’s vice-president and Jacinta’s husband. He was as handsome as Ashur but with a sexy pirate-ish edge, probably due to the scar that ran down his right cheek. He wore his jet-black hair a bit longer than one expected a politician to have, which added to his rakish appearance.

Recently a celebrity magazine voted him the “sexiest man of the year.” He’d hated that title, but Jacinta loved it. Who didn’t want a husband who was hot as sin and totally into her?

As Jacinta would say, she was one lucky bitch.

Veer’s hazel eyes were filled with amusement the second I came into view.

“Where are you off to?” I asked, since he was the best man and was supposed to be in the meeting with the wedding party.

“I’ve got to make a quick call. Then I’ll join you in the Yellow Oval Room.”

I shook my head. “Is Papa-in-law in there?”

“Yep. As is the whole wedding party.”

“Sam decided on the room, didn’t she?”

“Does that question really need an answer?”

“I guess not.” I laughed.

Samina knew her father hated the color yellow and therefore that was the room everyone would use whenever Minesh Kumar was around.

It was Sam’s passive-aggressive way of annoying the shit out of her father. And if I was honest about it, I loved her sick sense of vengeance.

“I better stop dawdling and head in there.”

“Subtle has never worked with him. Just be straightforward,” Veer said with a gleam in his eye.

“Should I assume that you heard about our family dinner?”

“Possibly. All I can say is that it was about time.” Veer kissed my cheek and headed down the hall.

“Let’s go, Casey. Hopefully, Ashur won’t be too long.”

As I took the corner, an unexpected level of worry rolled into the pit of my stomach. I covered my abdomen with my palm and tried to push back the uneasiness.

Tomorrow, I’d live here. In this palatial home as the first lady.

Gone was the daughter of the no-name technology programmer and nurse, gone was the human rights attorney, and definitely gone was the North American director of Solon.

It had killed me not to strap my thigh piece on today, but my mother had ordered me not to have it on me at any time during the wedding. We’d never finished our garden conversation but I’d gotten the gist of her message. She was right—I couldn’t risk my future for the life I’d agreed to step away from.

Just as I approached the doors to the Yellow Oval Room, Leara Crawford, Ashur’s personal secretary, approached me.

She wore a tailored gray suit, with a fire-engine red blouse underneath and matching Louboutin heels. At near seventy, Leara was stylish in the way women dreamed of being at any age. I so wanted to be her when I grew up.

“Hi, Leara.”

“Ms. Zain,” she responded, making me frown. It still took me a second to get used to how people formally addressed me, especially when I’d known them outside of the political world.

Before joining Ashur’s team, Leara had been a policy research specialist at the United Nations. She was my go-to expert for various cases. And because of her, I was able to navigate countless situations that required an in-depth knowledge of laws in non-US-friendly countries.

“Do I want to know what’s going on in there?”

A smile touched Leara’s lips. “There is a level of frost growing on the light fixtures that makes me think you’ll need a jacket to ward off the chill.”

“So, no friendly conversations and excitement for the wedding?” I asked, knowing anything in that realm of that line of thinking was a long shot when Minesh Kumar was in the vicinity.

She shook her head in response.

Leara had been privy to Minesh Kumar’s explosion of anger when he’d learned I was the one Ashur had asked to marry. The man had refused to accept the engagement and went as far as to tell Ashur he’d disown him for marrying filth like me and to threaten that I’d lose my fancy career with the right words from him.

It had taken all my strength not to punch him. The man thought he could use the same tactics he’d used on the girl who had to choose between the boy she loved and her father’s career and livelihood.

To my surprise, Ashur had stepped in as he’d done the other day and asked his father to leave if he couldn’t show me respect.

“Senator Kumar-Camden has been playing interference by having the children in the room, but I think she has reached her limit for her father’s antics.”

“Got to love Sam for trying. What about Jacinta? Minesh loves her, and she can usually occupy his time with discussion about Texas business for hours.”

Leara winced. “I believe Senator Camden-George is no longer his favorite after she told him not to talk down to Senator Kumar-Camden or question her parenting.”

“Jacinta’s pregnancy has caused her to lose her tolerance for drama. Let me go in and focus his wrath on me. I’m a tough gal. I can handle it.” I squared my shoulders and prepared myself for the meeting.

“I know you can, but that isn’t why I’m here. President Kumar wants a word with you in private.”

“About?” I asked, not understanding why my heartbeat jumped a notch as I thought about being alone in a room with Ashur.

It wasn’t as if we hadn’t spent time by ourselves before. It had been a weekly occurrence since Ashur had taken office. It was during those evenings that our friendship had grown. We’d discuss everything from pop culture to politics and our various stances on everything and anything, many times us being on opposite sides. However, until two days ago, we’d never crossed the line to anything physical, even with the undercurrent of desire constantly lingering between us. Now that we’d knocked down the wall I’d erected, there was no stopping either of us from acting on our attraction.

A tingle went up my spine and a pulse of desire began a steady throb between my legs.

“Where should I meet him? His office?” I glanced at Casey, who stepped back from the Yellow Oval Room doors.

Leara shook her head. “In the master suite.”

I licked my lips and then swallowed.

What was the man up to?

I’d never spent any time in the master bedroom. Even when the movers brought my things in, my assistant had supervised.

I wasn’t the naive eighteen-year-old who believed in happily ever after, and Ashur wasn’t the up-and-coming college graduate who viewed me as the most precious person in his life. This time, there wasn’t any expectation other than what was stated in the contract. We both knew where we stood on things, especially the past. This was a business arrangement, nothing more.

Now, if only my heart could remember this.

At least I’d have the children I’d always wanted. Even though this wasn’t the way I’d planned to have them.

“He said you don’t have to knock and to go right in. He wants to greet everyone together.”

I nodded and walked down the hall, pausing for a brief moment before I entered the bedroom.

The first thing I noticed was the elegant simplicity of the space. It possessed little of the over-the-top old-world glamour of Ashur’s predecessor. The colors were a combination of light tones of creams, whites, and grays mixed with furnishings that were stylish and usable.

There was the scent of spiced cologne and soap in the air, telling me Ashur was in the shower.

My pulse jumped and need flared to life in my core.

I walked over to the curtain-covered windows, setting my purse on a nearby table. Tucking my loose hair behind my ear, I pulled back the drapes and gazed out at the breathtaking view of the manicured lawn.

Never in a million years would I have believed Ashur Kumar, the boy whose heart I’d broken when we were barely out of our youth, would want to marry me almost fifteen years later, much less want to have children with me.

And even more unfathomable was that me, Tara Rayna Zain, controversial human rights attorney, was about to become first lady.

At that moment, the door leading out of the bathroom opened and a whiff of steam billowed into the room.

“You could have joined me, Tara. It isn’t as if you haven’t seen the goods before.”