Birch thanked man and woman after man and woman for their service. He was glad to see some people from when he’d been deployed and to meet some of the heroes who had sacrificed a great deal keeping the United States safe. That didn’t mean he wasn’t relieved when Humphrey came and told him it was time to go.

“We need a private word,” Humphrey said softly in between Birch posing for pictures.

Birch nodded and Humphrey did his best to get the president out of the Blue Room and up to the second floor as quickly as possible. In the Treaty Room, Birch yanked his tie loose as Humphrey looked around before closing and locking the door.

“I have an update. The day has been very full, and it’s not even three yet. I hope tonight is more peaceful.” Humphrey filled him in on Jeff Sargent and how Lizzy was doing. Birch was surprised Jason was helping again but understood he probably needed a purpose right now.

After Birch signed the paperwork he needed to and dealt with emails that required his attention, he was ready to see Tate. Humphrey took the stack of papers off to his office and Birch walked down the hall to the room where Tate was staying. He knocked softly, but there was no answer. He opened it quietly, but found it empty. “Tate?”

“Excuse me, sir?” one of the butlers said from behind him.

“Yes?”

“The young lady is in the solarium. Is there anything you will be needing?”

Birch was about to say no, but then thought better of it. “Yes. Will you send up a tray of finger food? It’s been a long day, and I don’t think either of us really ate.”

“Perhaps the lady has a favorite food that will help her feel better after a long day? My wife personally loves truffles,” the older man in his tux said with a slight bow of his head.

“That would be perfect, Gene. Thank you for suggesting that.” Birch took off for the third floor, knowing in a matter of ten minutes Gene would be back with food and some chocolates for Tate.

While the staff had been generally ignored during President Mitchell’s short time at the White House, Birch had found many of them to be great people. His being single had made things interesting for them, but they’d adapted well even though he still hadn’t picked a china pattern. The idea of asking Tate to do that for him excited him. Before they could do that, they had to make it through the next couple of days.

Birch walked down the small hall to the solarium. When he got inside, Tate looked so small wrapped in his blanket. Her eyes were closed, and there were dried tearstains down her face where she had cried herself to sleep. His heart ached for her. It had taken every iota of control he had not to simply carry her off in his arms today. He heard the protesters, he heard the remarks others made to her, and he remembered exactly who made them. There would be reckoning among those who had so boldly decried her as a whore, as if times since The Scarlet Letter hadn’t changed. For now, though, there was something he could do.

Birch slipped his arms under and around her. Tate opened her eyes in surprise as he lifted her up enough for him to take a seat on the chair and place her on his lap. He adjusted her so that he cradled her in his arms and hugged her to him.

“Birch!” she squeaked as his hand traveled under the blanket to palm her flat stomach.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against the side of her head before kissing her temple.

“I was with you most of the day.”

“Not like this. I missed this,” Birch said, moving his hand to cup her breast. “Did you miss me?”

Tate smiled and Birch felt as if he had accomplished a great feat. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe you should remind me a little more.”

“Minx,” Birch whispered as his fingers traced her nipple through the lace bra at the same time he kissed her. She opened for him, and he took his time savoring the taste of her.

The sound of a throat clearing sent Tate jumping, but Birch used his arm to keep her tight against him.

“I have a food tray, sir,” Gene said as he rolled a trolley over to where they were sitting. “And for you, ma’am.” Gene lifted a silver dome containing a huge piece of what looked to be a chocolate truffle pie with a side of raspberry drizzle.

Birch chuckled as he felt Tate’s stomach growl at the sight.

“You’re a lifesaver, Gene. Thank you.” Birch smiled up at his butler.

“How did you know that was exactly what I wanted?” Tate asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of gratitude and surprise.

“A man never reveals his secrets. I have cleared the third floor for the next hour, sir. I also have your tuxedo laid out. Ma’am, is there anything you need assistance with in your preparations for the ball?”

“No, thank you,” Tate said, getting the full White House treatment. It was the first time she’d met any of the residential staff.

“Gene, are you working tonight?” Birch asked.

“Yes, sir. Until midnight.”

“Wonderful. I hope you don’t mind staying alone a bit tonight, but I trust your impeccable discretion.”

“No problem at all, sir. What do you need?”

“Will you make sure the rest of the residential staff knows that they can leave at eight thirty so they can watch the fireworks. And will you please inform them that the Queen’s Room is off limits?” Birch knew Gene would move mountains to get things done. He was incredible, and he made sure the butler knew how much his hard work was appreciated.

“Of course. I’ll personally take over the Queen’s Room services if you’re comfortable with that, ma’am?” Gene asked Tate.

“Yes, thank you. But you don’t have to go through any trouble for me.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Gene smiled before taking his leave. “I’ll see you tonight, sir. Have a very enjoyable evening.”

Birch leaned over and handed Tate the plate of truffle pie. “You’ve been eyeing this since Gene showed it to you,” Birch chuckled.

“They all know we’re . . . well, we’re whatever we are,” Tate said before taking a bite of the pie. Her eyes rolled back in her head in pleasure, and she made the sexiest little moan that had Birch growing hard.

“That we are sleeping together? Yes, they probably all know. But Gene will make sure there’s no evidence of it. No one will be around to confirm the suspicions,” Birch said as he watched her take another bite.

“Did you ever ask him about Mollia Domini?” Tate asked.

“No.”

“I bet he heard the Mitchells talking, and we know they were part of it. Everyone forgets the staff,” Tate concluded in between bites. “This is so good.”

“You have a point. I’ll talk to him. But first I have one hour without interruption, and I’m going to use every second of it.” Birch snuggled her tight against him as his hand moved back under her shirt. Only this time, he didn’t stop at her stomach. Tate took the last bite of the pie and groaned as he cupped her breast.

“I’ve always heard chocolate was better than sex, but I didn’t believe it until I had this pie,” Tate sighed as she licked the fork.

Birch smiled against her neck as he took the fork from her hand. He pulled her shirt off, tossing it on the floor next to the chair before spinning Tate around until she faced him. He pushed her legs apart so she could straddle him. Birch’s hands cupped her breasts as he leaned forward. “Challenge accepted,” Birch said a second before tracing her nipple with his tongue.

Birch felt Tate’s head fall back as her fingers speared his hair, holding him to her. He let one hand slip under her skirt as she ground against him. Soon Tate was all his, and the chocolate pie was a distant memory.

The guests for the Fourth of July Ball were a mix of the who’s who of politics and those who thought they were in politics, like several actors and singers. It was filled with many who didn’t mind the steep price tag to get into the event supporting the National Archives.

“Sir, could I get a picture of you and the lady?” Dalton asked a man he didn’t recognize. The woman was Kerra Ruby, who was wearing the most inappropriate dress for the elegant evening, although the American flag nipple pasties were a nice touch. Dalton stood by the entrance to the ball snapping pictures and generally eavesdropping to make sure he had identities of all possible Mollia Domini insiders.

“Sure,” the man wrapped his arm around Kerra who pushed her breasts out, angled her head, sucked in her cheeks, and kind of smiled. The man identified himself and Dalton wrote down the name.

Next an old man with a very young woman in a skin-tight dress stopped to pose. Bertie Geofferies and his wife, Vivian. Bertie put his hand on her stomach where there was a slight bulge.

“Mr. Geofferies, are you about to become a father again?” Dalton asked as he snapped the picture along with the rest of the press who were corralled in a line.

“I sure am. Viv and I are very blessed. And Rue couldn’t be happier to have a new brother or sister,” he said of his forty-three-year-old son. Dalton was sure Rupert “Rue” Geofferies VII was thrilled to no longer be the sole heir to the Geofferies fortune. Vivian smiled lovingly at her husband, and Dalton had to applaud her acting. She was about to pass off Trip Kameron’s child as a Geofferies heir.

Over the next thirty minutes, everyone from Hollywood’s “it couple” to Senator Epps and his wife came through. Sandra Cummings was with her assistant, Thurmond. FBI Director Kirby and his wife were next. A pop singer brought her agent, Fitz Houlihan. As the line began to dwindle down, Sebastian Abel appeared right behind Trip Kameron. This was a reality show waiting to happen.

Sebastian only paused a half a second when he saw Dalton before heading into the dining room. Dalton put away his camera and flashed his VIP pass along with a dinner ticket to the guards, who then let him out of the press section.

Once inside, he found his table. He was seated with other no-names in the back of the room, but he’d asked for that so he could observe the entire room. Geofferies was staring daggers at Sebastian, who was flirting with Geofferies’s wife. Trip was happy to sit back and let the pop star Fitz came with fling herself all over him while Fitz was looking for someone.

Epps was making his way over to Sandra when the double doors opened and the president entered with Tate Carlisle walking in behind him. The room erupted in whispers, the general consensus being Tate slept her way into the job as everyone tried to guess if they were a couple. Epps stopped his progression toward Sandra and went back to his table as Birch made his way to the front of the room.

Tate scanned the crowd, and Dalton noticed the second she found Fitz. Her face hardened, and her hand fisted quickly before all emotion was wiped from her face. She took a seat opposite the president as he stood and gave a speech about the importance of preserving history.

Soon waiters poured from the kitchens, and dinner was served. Dalton watched Sebastian and Geofferies, seated at neighboring tables. Sebastian would regularly lean over to whisper something to Vivian that had her laughing, and Dalton was worried Geofferies might have a heart attack, judging by how red his face became.

Trip seemed not to have a care in the world that multiple women he was sleeping with were in the same room. And more surprising was that Geofferies didn’t seem to know about Trip. He was more annoyed with Sebastian. Mixed in were the whispered conversations FBI Director Kirby and Sandra Cummings were having and the angry looks Epps kept sending their way. There was so much going on he wished Lizzy were there to help.

Tate heard the whispers when she entered. She ignored them and looked around the room. But when she saw Fitz, she almost faltered. People were looking between them as if they would break out into dramatics at any second. Instead of feeling cowed by their whispers and stares, she grew angrier with each passing minute. No one was whispering about Fitz. No one was calling him a whore for having sex on a private beach. No one was telling him to quit his job.

The entrees were cleared, and dessert was set down. She blinked as she saw a piece of chocolate truffle pie instead of the tarts everyone else was eating. Her eyes shot to Birch, and she smiled.

Birch winked and then turned to the secretary of state. “Sandra, I want to set up a meeting with China. We need to lay down the law once and for all about the South China Sea.”

“I’m handling it, sir,” Sandra said with a tight smile.

“And now I am.” Birch turned to Humphrey. “I want a face-to-face with the leaders from the area in two weeks. I’ll talk to them all individually on Monday to get their agreement to join me. Can you set that all up for me?”

“Of course,” Humphrey replied, ignoring the daggers Sandra was sending them.

“Sir, I have been working with China—” Sandra started.

“Yes, and you’ll be part of the discussion. But we need stability, and we need it soon. But now what we have to do is mingle,” Birch said as he looked to Tate and Humphrey. Getting the hint, they both stood, along with Sandra.

“I’ll send over my notes on Monday,” Sandra said as she moved to stand by Birch. Tate saw Birch thank Sandra and then the two went off to the neighboring table. Humphrey moved to her side.

“Ready to face the wolves?” Humphrey whispered as a smile played on his lips as if they were joking about something rather than telling the truth.

“Fitz is here.”

“I know. I saw his name on the guest list. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. I might as well face him so everyone can get over the suspense.”

“We’ll work our way back to him.”

Tate let Humphrey do the talking as she greeted Senator Epps’s wife. Epps was clipped in his statements but didn’t tear her down. Instead, he seemed as if his mind were someplace else, and he didn’t want to talk to them.

“That was painful,” Humphrey said, leading them to the table where Sebastian sat. They stopped between Sebastian and Vivian.

“Hello. Is everyone enjoying the festivities?” Humphrey asked with a big grin on his face.

Sebastian smiled up at him and again Tate was struck by what an attractive man he was. His gray eyes took her in, and he looked both dark and sinfully handsome in a tuxedo with his black hair. “Miss Carlisle,” he said, ignoring Humphrey, “how is my best friend doing? Tell him I’m mad he hasn’t stopped to see me yet.”

“Face it, Abel,” Geofferies said from his table, “you’re not as important as you think you are.”

Sebastian’s grin turned lethal, and his expression went from seductive to menacing in a blink of his eye. “And what would you know about importance, Bertie? Your tech company hasn’t come out with a new product in over a year. The stocks on your hotels have fallen ten percent while mine have grown. But, I shouldn’t say any more. My mother taught me to respect my elders. Now, Miss Carlisle, how are you holding up?”

“I saw that photo,” Vivian said, joining the conversation as her husband looked fit to be tied. “It wasn’t like it was a sex tape.”

Tate blinked. She guessed that was support. “Thank you, Mrs. Geofferies.” Tate turned to her husband. “Mr. Geofferies, I have to thank you for growing my retirement fund. I invested in your holding, and it’s done very well.”

“Please, call me Bertie. I believe in my investments, and I’m glad they’ve been able to help you. Some of us aren’t obsessed with ourselves to the point of forgetting to help people.”

“And that’s what we’re here for tonight, to help preserve our history for the people,” Tate said, smiling as she shot a warning glare to Sebastian to behave himself. But as Tate and Humphrey made their way to another table, she couldn’t help but hear Bertie’s last remark.

“Better hang on, Abel. I’m working on something now that will take your company down. You’ll be begging for investors by the end of the year.”

Tate leaned over to Humphrey, “I knew they were rivals, but I had no idea it was so personal.”

“Oh yes. Sebastian has told Birch numerous times that Bertie is out to destroy him. It’s all because Sebastian came into the marketplace and followed the outline for success that Bertie paved. Only Sebastian did it better. He adapted to the new times and foresaw what was needed now and in the future. It’s a bitter rivalry and one that will continue, I’m afraid. Bertie has been grooming his son to take over for him after he dies. Rue is Thurmond, just with real power and money behind him.”

“That thought will give me nightmares,” Tate joked before turning to greet the next guest Humphrey deemed important enough to schmooze with.