“I’ve never seen you so indecisive about what you’re wearing,” Fiona said as she stood leaning against the doorway of Jessica’s dressing room.

Jessica dropped another black dress on the love seat, the stack of them now two feet tall.

“Why do I own nothing but black?” she complained. “An entire closet full of designer dresses, and none of them are in a color?”

Fiona shook her head and smiled. “Because you’ve been in mourning for six years?”

Jessica shot her a look that would have withered lesser women. “This isn’t Victorian England. We don’t have to wear black after our husbands die.”

“Really?” Fiona asked as she walked farther into the spacious room lined on three sides with clothing racks. “Because, as you’re so poignantly observing, you own approximately four hundred black dresses and not a single one in a color.”

“I own colored dresses, just not colored cocktail dresses.”

Fiona elegantly lowered herself to the one small space on the sofa that wasn’t covered in black dresses. “Right, because it’s okay to be visible at work, but at social events, you need to fade into the woodwork so that no man gets the wrong idea and tries to get to know you.”

Jessica glared at her former best friend. “Fiona, when you figure out how the president of the United States—the female president of the United States—is supposed to date while in office, you let me know. Until then I’ll be running the country, but I’m not opposed to doing it in a dress that’s a color other than black.”

“Fine.” Fiona stood and reached under her arm to pull down the zipper hidden there.

“What are you doing?” Jessica asked skeptically.

“Giving you a dress in a color other than black. I’m going to take my wins where I can get them.”

She finished unzipping and stepped out of the sleeveless sapphire-blue silk sheath, holding it out to Jessica.

Jessica stared at the senator from the Great State of Texas standing in a thong, a strapless bra, and sky-high stilettoes. “Is there no limit to your outlandishness?” she asked, plucking the dress from Fiona’s fingers.

Fiona began digging through the stack of black dresses, holding each one up to her chest before discarding it on a new pile.

“Go on,” she directed. “Put it on. You know you’ll look fabulous in that color. Much better than I do, truth be told.”

Jessica untied the belt of her silk dressing gown and removed it before stepping into Fiona’s dress. After she zipped it up, she turned to the mirror and examined herself. Her red hair was in an upsweep, and the sapphire dress made her blue eyes shine.

“It’s gorgeous,” Fiona said softly, looking over Jessica’s shoulder in the mirror. “What’s that old saying? You hide your light under a bushel? You do that, Jess. I know you have this job, and it’s constraining. I know you feel obligated to live out John’s legacy, but you can’t forget to take care of you.”

She arranged one of the errant coils that had escaped the upsweep and squeezed Jessica’s shoulder gently. “I know I harp on it, and that it annoys you, but I only want the best for you. You are bearing the proverbial weight of the world on your shoulders, I just wish that there was someone or something to give you a break from all that.”

Jessica gave her a small smile in the mirror. “I know, Fi. I know you always want what’s best for me, and you know that I’m resisting the pressure to run again so that I can get my life back. I’m tired. I’ve done what John should have gotten to, I’m ready to move on, but as long as I’m in office, I don’t see how I can.”

Fiona tugged a one-shouldered Perry Ellis chiffon baby-doll dress from the pile and pulled it over her head, smoothing out the fabric as it fell over her hips and slid down her thighs.

“Maybe you should have hired a male chief of staff—six two, former hockey player, good at using his mouth for things other than talking…” Fiona sighed dreamily.

Jessica took a pair of silver shoes off the shelf and slipped them on, observing them in combination with the bright blue dress. She considered what she was going to say next. Fiona had been her best friend for twenty years, she knew she could trust her implicitly, but she also knew that Fiona would get her hopes up for no reason. Because nothing was going to happen—nothing could happen—but her stomach was in butterflies when she thought about it.

“Can I make a confession?” she asked, turning to her friend. Fiona nodded. “I invited someone to the reception tonight.”

“I’d assume you invited a lot of someones,” Fiona joked. “It’s a reception to celebrate the anniversary of the Davidson-Rogers Treaty after all.”

“I invited someone who doesn’t need to be here.” Jessica took a breath and plunged ahead, into the land of Fiona’s unfounded hopes and expectations. “I invited someone because I wanted to see him.”

“Well,” Fiona demanded after Jessica paused. “Get on with it, or I might lose my mind.”

“The Egyptian ambassador. Kamal Masri.”

Fiona’s eyes widened as her mouth formed a small “o” of shock.

“Tall, dark, and brooding?”

Jessica nodded.

“I met him at the party the embassy hosted last month for House members and their staffs.”

“I’ve been working with him on the Millennial Accord. We have weekly meetings.” She cleared her throat, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t like they had really done anything other than talk, and walk, and talk some more. But the things that weren’t spoken—the way his arm felt so solid underneath her hand, or the look in his eyes when he watched her across a table. The way her breath caught whenever she heard his voice for the first time in a meeting. No, they hadn’t done anything but talk and walk, but somehow, they’d done so much more.

“Why, Madam President,” Fiona drawled, laying her Texas on thick. “I do believe you have a crush on our esteemed ambassador.”

Jessica’s face heated. “Stop. Just stop. I wish I hadn’t said anything now.” She snatched a bracelet from the jewelry box and marched out of the dressing room into her bedroom. “I invited him because he seems like a nice man and I enjoy talking to him. I do not have a crush. Good Lord, I’m almost forty years old. Women my age don’t get crushes.”

Fiona scoffed. “The hell we don’t. I have a new crush every time I walk past the intern lounge in the Capitol building. Some of those college boys are really quite lovely.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“Don’t worry, I would never act on those crushes. But that doesn’t mean you can’t act on this one.”

“Fiona. I realize there aren’t any laws dealing specifically with that since I’m one of the only single presidents in history as well as the only female one, but even you have to admit that me socializing with the ambassador in that way would shine a spotlight on every interaction the US had with Egypt and the Middle East in general. The accusations from across the aisle would be horrendous. They’d probably try to have me charged with treason for putting a foreign country’s interests above America’s.”

Fiona seemed to mull it over for a moment. “You’re right, which is why you’ll just have to keep it on the DL.”

“The what?”

“The down low. Hide out, my dear. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Jessica’s eyes grew wide, and then she laughed. “Fi, have you looked around?” Jessica’s arm swept around the room. “I live in the biggest fishbowl on the planet. I don’t do anything except pee without someone watching me. I’m under twenty-four-hour guard. I haven’t driven a car in over three years. I don’t remember what the inside of a grocery store looks like. I have no idea what the current popular movie is, and I haven’t ridden on a commercial airliner since John died. How exactly is it you propose I have a secret assignation with the ambassador from Egypt, who, I might add, has nearly as much security following him around as I do.”

“Simple. One trusted Secret Service agent and the staff stairway to the private residence.”

“Good Lord. You seriously think I should have one of my Secret Service agents smuggle the ambassador in through the staff entrance?”

Fiona shrugged. “Trust me when I say you wouldn’t be the first president to do it.”

Jessica had to admit that was very likely true. “But they weren’t smuggling in a high-ranking official of a foreign government. If they got caught, they were sleazy, I might be criminal.”

“Oh, don’t you believe that for a second. Some of them were criminal as well. Didn’t seem to hurt their careers any.”

Jessica’s face softened, and she walked to the window, looking out at the darkened grounds of the White House lawn.

“They didn’t have the legacy of an entire family to maintain. I’ve given up everything to protect the Hampton family name and John’s dreams. What kind of person would I be if I risked all that for a roll in the presidential bed with an Egyptian ambassador?”

“The same one who always thinks of everyone but herself.” Fiona came to Jessica’s side and linked their arms, bumping her friend lightly on the shoulder.

“You’ve done everything the Hamptons have asked of you for more than a decade, Jess. I know you loved John, and I know that the Hampton legacy is a tough thing to stand against. But you’re a young, vibrant woman. You’ve given your entire thirties to the Hamptons and America. Don’t give up any more to them. You’re almost out. It’s time to live your life. Fall in love. Have a family. I want you to get all those things you dreamed about when you married John.”

Jessica’s stomach twitched at the mention of a family, but she turned and hugged her friend tightly. “I’m not sure all those things are still in the cards,” she said in Fiona’s ear. “But thank you for wanting them for me.” She bit her lip to keep the tears from starting and pulled away. “Now, we have a reception to attend, and possibly an ambassador to crush on.”

Fiona smiled. “As you wish, Madam President. I’ve heard they’re going to be serving those shrimp spring rolls that they had at the New Year’s party last year, and if you’ll recall, I could eat an entire platter of those by myself, so you know where you can find me.”

As they opened the door to the residence, Jessica’s eyes landed on her Secret Service detail for the night. And for one brief moment, she wondered what was really possible if you weren’t living your life for someone else. Someone who’d been dead for six years.

* * *

Even if they hadn’t announced it, Kamal would have known when the president of the United States entered the room. She was the most beautiful woman there by far, and had a magnetism to her that couldn’t be matched by any of the few dozen dignitaries and their staff who gathered in one of the White House reception rooms. He kept one ear to the conversation he was having with the ambassador from Cameroon, while also watching Jessica Hampton make her way through the room, smiling graciously at first one guest, then another. Senator Aronson was with her, and the two women worked the room like the very seasoned professionals they were.

But as the president was engaged by the secretary of state and a German underminister of something or other, Senator Aronson magically appeared at Kamal’s elbow.

“Senator. How lovely to see you,” Kamal said, smiling.

“Ambassadors.” She smiled charmingly at the starry-eyed bore from Cameroon. “May I borrow Ambassador Masri for a few moments? I promise to return him in the same condition in which he left.”

With the approval of Cameroon’s representative to all things US, Fiona led Kamal to a quiet corner of the room, chatting about nonsense the entire way. He watched her, wondering exactly what it was she wanted. He’d thought that the president’s supporters were in favor of the Millennial Accord, but was it possible Senator Aronson harbored doubts and wanted to question him on it?

“Mr. Ambassador,” Fiona said, her expression turning serious in a flash as they settled into the darkened corner of the room next to the proverbial potted plant. “What I’m going to talk to you about right now is highly classified information, and if you cannot give me your word both as an ambassador and a gentleman that you’ll keep it secret, then I’ll have to move on and hope to have this conversation with someone else in the future.”

Kamal bristled at the suggestion that he would ever be anything but trustworthy and discreet.

“Senator. You do realize that I am in the business of conducting top-secret negotiations as well as protecting the confidential information of two countries?”

She nodded and watched him critically for a moment. He felt like she was trying to see under his skin, and it made him itch all over.

He finally broke, holding up his hand like he was taking an oath of office. “I promise not to tell.”

Fiona smiled and nodded. “Good. Now, I hear that you’ve been spending some quality time with my oldest and dearest friend.”

Kamal furrowed his brow and squinted at her.

“The president.” Fiona rolled her eyes.

“We’re working on the Millennial Accord, yes. It requires a weekly meeting.”

Fiona shifted a touch, putting her back to the room. “And all you’ve talked about is the accord?”

Kamal felt a spike of something protective in his chest for the president and his words came out more sharply than necessary. “What we discuss is confidential, obviously, and between the president and me. What exactly are you trying to get at, Senator, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Fiona’s expression grew into something that Kamal could only describe as triumphant. “The perfect answer, Ambassador,” she said mysteriously. “Now, let me tell you a story. It’s one you’ve probably heard through the press, but the press doesn’t know it from the inside as I do. I trust you’ll keep this as confidential as any of those discussions you’ve had with the president.”

“Of course,” Kamal murmured. He had to admit, as mysterious as she was, Fiona had piqued his interest. But really, anything to do with Jessica Hampton seemed to pique his interest these days.

“Eight years ago, my best friend in the world was starting the beginning of a blessed life. She was married to a wonderful man whom she loved, she had a job that was challenging but flexible, she was planning to start a family. She and John Hampton were wealthy, beautiful, young, and successful.”

Kamal nodded sadly. The entire world knew the story of John Hampton and his beautiful bride.

“Then that goddamn airplane went down, and not only did America lose its favorite young senator, and not only did I lose a colleague whom I respected and loved, but I lost his wife, my very best friend, that day as well.”

Kamal struggled against the ache her voice sent to his heart. He could hear the anguish that she’d felt that day all those years ago.

“For the last six years, Jessica has sacrificed everything she ever wanted, given up on all her own hopes and dreams, in order to do what John wanted—to fulfill his family’s legacy for him. The day that plane went down, she became his surrogate, and it’s slowly killing her, Ambassador.”

Kamal had been in enough negotiations to know when to speak and when not to, so he simply nodded encouragingly at the senator and waited it out.

“Jessica never wanted to be a politician. She wanted to practice law and have a baby. She wanted to watch her beautiful young husband make beautiful policies for their country. She wanted to teach a new generation of attorneys to be ethical, and responsible, and teach a son or a daughter how to be a good person. She never wanted to command armies and live with someone watching her every move. She never wanted to spend every night after a fifteen-hour workday alone in a big cold bed.”

Kamal swallowed against the emotion swelling inside him. He glanced over Fiona’s shoulder at the woman she was describing. And it angered him. Angered him that an entire nation, much less the Hampton family, was willing to let this woman sacrifice her very essence to serve them.

“America is known for its selfishness and disregard for its officials. I’m afraid that I’m not surprised they’ve used up Jessica Hampton.”

Fiona looked shocked at his words.

“You disagree? Your politicians run a race that can’t be won when they agree to serve your people. Your people don’t trust their officials to make the difficult decisions, and instead second-guess them at every turn, demanding that they give more, while criticizing them for spending too much. According to the Americans, the jobs aren’t adequate, but the government is too big. The laws against personal behavior aren’t strong enough, but the laws against personal mayhem are too restrictive. America is the most fickle and ungrateful country in the world.”

“Mr. Ambassador, that was a decidedly undiplomatic view of my country.”

“Are we not speaking confidentially?” Kamal raised his eyebrow at her, and she nodded.

“We are, and I can’t say that I disagree with you. There are many good things to balance that out, but I can’t argue that it is a very tough country to govern.”

Kamal took the last drink of his wine, rolling the stem of the glass between his fingers.

“So, my best friend, Jessica, has given up years of her life for this fickle country of ours, and now she is finally in the homestretch. No matter what happens with Melville’s campaign I have no intention of letting her be roped back into serving another term. It’s time for her to start living her life again.”

Kamal scowled at the mention of Melville. The Powerplay club had spent a good portion of their day trying to do damage control for Derek and the Melville campaign. The entire thing disgusted Kamal and also made him concerned for Derek’s professional reputation.

“And I think you can help with that,” the senator finished.

Kamal blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I think you can help the president begin her new life.”

“How exactly do I fit in?”

Fiona looked over her shoulder as if she had a sixth sense when their time was running out.

“Be her friend. Be someone she can talk to, not just as a colleague, as a man. Help her, encourage her to care about herself as much as she does about the Hamptons and the country.”

“Senator,” Kamal said warily. “Why would you choose me for this assignment?”

As he said it, he saw Jessica making her way toward them. His eyes darted between Fiona’s face and Jessica’s advance.

“Because she likes you,” Fiona hissed. “And she hasn’t liked anyone since she met John Hampton fifteen years ago.”

Kamal stood, dumbfounded, as the president arrived, chastising the senator for hiding out in the corner, and asking what they’d been talking about.

“I was explaining to the ambassador the way the Senate Foreign Affairs committee orders lunches on an alternating schedule each week. He couldn’t believe that the Senate dining room wouldn’t deliver lunch to us and we had to get Subway sandwiches brought in.”

Jessica smiled at him, obviously waiting for him to provide a response. His mind was still swirling with the words, “because she likes you,” but he rallied and gave both women a small smile. “The president already knows my views on the type of service being provided to your public officials.” He glanced at Jessica in time to see a small blush spread across her cheeks. She likes you.

“Oh!” Fiona said quickly. “I see that little goat from the State Department. No matter how many times I tell him to add me to the distribution list for level-four materials, he won’t do it. I worked my ass off for the Foreign Affairs appointment, I’m not about to get left out of all the good intelligence.” She fluttered her fingers at them and disappeared into the sea of cocktail dresses and dark suits.

“Are you enjoying the party, Ambassador?” Jessica asked politely, not looking him in the eyes.

Kamal shifted to get in her line of sight. She looked up at him, her expression wary.

“I’m enjoying it far more now,” he answered.

“Senator Aronson has a big mouth,” Jessica muttered.

Kamal smiled, happiness sifting through him in waves.

“She cares about you deeply.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t truly want to acknowledge the position I find myself in.”

Kamal shrugged. “Perhaps. And perhaps even the life of a president doesn’t need to be all or nothing. Maybe, just like the rest of us, presidents need to explore things, get to know those around them, see where life takes them.”

Jessica watched him thoughtfully, and then a small smile spread across her ruby lips. “Perhaps… Would you like to see the patio, Mr. Ambassador? The lights of Washington are lovely from there.”

Kamal’s heart soared, and he offered her his elbow. “I would love to,” he said.

* * *

Jessica smiled and nodded as she made her way toward the patio doors. No one seemed to think anything of the ambassador escorting her outside. The guards at the exit stepped aside with a murmured “Madam President,” and opened the doors wide.

They walked out onto the brick expanse that spread in a semicircle until it met with a small shade structure. One of the guards from inside stepped out of the doors and positioned himself where he could watch the president. Jessica knew that more guards waited beyond the patio where she couldn’t see them. Along with thermal cameras and video surveillance, the White House grounds were one of the safest places on earth. Also one of the worst for a tryst with a foreign dignitary.

“Would you like to sit for a moment?” She gestured to the chairs and table underneath the shade structure.

“Yes, but here.” Kamal pointed to the old-fashioned porch swing that hung from the far end of the structure.

She smiled, feeling a little like a giddy teenage girl as he led her to the swing.

“You look lovely tonight, Madam President,” he said quietly as they sat shoulder to shoulder, neither looking at the other.

“I was concerned today,” she blurted out.

He finally turned to face her, and it nearly took her breath away, the heat and want in his eyes. Her words caught, and she tried to focus on his speech and not his lips.

“What about?”

“The bomb threat at your embassy. I was concerned for your safety.” She swallowed, knowing that she was dangerously close to a line she’d said she would never cross. “We have a lot of work left on the accord.”

His hand found hers in the darkness, his touch feather soft on only the tips of her fingers.

“I am honored that you were concerned for me, Jessica.” His voice was deep and thrummed through her like the blood that was heating her veins.

“I shouldn’t be—I mean, beyond the ordinary concern for a colleague.”

He leaned forward then, his breath washing over her skin, heating her more, causing things to bubble to life. Things that had been dormant for so long it nearly brought tears to Jessica’s eyes. She wanted to drop to her knees and thank this man, thank him for doing nothing other than being him, because apparently him was what she had needed all along.

“I would be honored beyond all reason if you were concerned for me as more than merely a colleague,” he murmured, reaching out and brushing a curl alongside her neck.

“Mr. Ambassador?” Jessica’s voice was nothing more than a whisper now.

“Yes, Madam President?” His hand moved from her curl to wrap around the back of her neck. Warm, firm, wanting.

Jessica’s heart beat a tattoo, and she struggled to catch the little breaths that rushed from her lungs. “I think…”

His lips moved to hers, electricity zinging between them like a summer lightning storm.

Then a snapping sound rang out, and Jessica felt her body falling, slamming against the bricks of the patio as more snapping and crackling split open the air around them. “Shooter!” someone yelled.

Kamal’s body was heavy on hers, but his voice in her ear was comforting and calming. “Don’t move. Don’t say a word,” he whispered. She held as still as a statue, listening to his breaths in her ear as the world around her exploded in sounds—shouting, feet pounding pavement, sirens splitting the air. In seconds, Kamal’s weight was pulled off her and rough hands were yanking her to her feet as she was half carried and half dragged inside the house.

“Everyone against the wall!” the Secret Service shouted as Jessica’s eyes adjusted to the light. The reception guests all wore varying expressions of horror, fear, and displeasure as they were herded to the far side of the room and asked to stand in two lines.

“Madam President,” one of the guards who had brought her inside asked. “Do you require medical attention?”

“No,” she said, her voice shaky. “No, I’m fine.” Then she turned to look behind her where the Secret Service had Kamal against a wall, his hands over his head, frisking him.

“He saved me!” she cried, moving toward them. The man at her side grabbed her arm.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you need to stay here.” It was then she noticed there was a barrier of Secret Service around her. Four agents with their backs to her, in addition to the one at her side. She stood at the middle of the square, looking out at everyone else being treated as if they were criminals and assassins.

“The ambassador saved me,” she repeated. Her heart was racing, and she noticed that her hands shook like leaves in a strong wind. “He threw me on the ground, shielded me with his own body.”

The guard called to one of the men still blocking Kamal in the corner as they questioned him.

“Code Forty-nine,” he said, before nodding at the other man.

Kamal was immediately released, and the agents escorted him to Jessica’s side.

She wanted to throw her arms around him, kiss his lips, feel his heart beat against hers until it was all okay again. Until she could stop shaking.

But instead, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Mr. Ambassador, are you okay?”

He held her hand in both of his and looked at her warmly. “As long as you are, I am, Madam President.”

“I’m fine. I will be fine that is, as soon as I can stop shaking.” She shuddered violently, her vision going a little hazy around the edges.

“It’s the adrenaline,” Kamal said to her, his voice oddly soothing as he tucked a hand under her arm to steady her. “The president needs to sit down and be given something to drink. Preferably with some sugar in it,” he told the guards. “Tea with sugar would work well. Or a soda, if that’s easier.”

The guards walked both her and Kamal to a nearby sofa, and he sat, holding her hand the entire time. In the back of her mind, she thought that maybe she shouldn’t let him, but she felt so odd and out of sync that she didn’t want to stop touching him.

A teapot appeared, and Kamal poured her a cup, adding a generous amount of sugar and a splash of milk.

“That British tea thing comes in handy,” she said as he held the cup out to her.

He smiled. “Also the time in the Egyptian military,” he observed, taking both her hands and wrapping them around the teacup so she wouldn’t spill it on herself. “Now drink that and you’ll start to feel better.”

She sipped the warm liquid, and gradually, the shaking subsided and her head cleared. The guests were now mingling again, talking in hushed tones, trying to see her through the wall of Secret Service that surrounded her.

“The guests have all been cleared, ma’am, but we’re still searching the grounds. Once that’s done, they’ll be allowed to leave, one group at a time,” said the agent who approached them.

“I should say something to everyone.”

“We’d rather you not right now, ma’am.”

Kamal looked at her and said in a low voice, “You need to. If the guests here see that you’re unharmed and unfazed, the news will reach the public quickly. You don’t want the media and the country in a panic when they don’t need to be. Show them their president is strong and well, and they’ll feel the same.”

Jessica nodded quickly. She stood and looked at the agent. “I’m going to the front of the room to make an announcement. You can keep your men with me, but they’ll need to be behind me as I speak so that the others can see me.”

The agent nodded, his expression grim. Jessica walked briskly to the entrance of the room and grabbed a nearby wineglass, tapping on it with a candlestick.

The room quieted immediately, all eyes on the president who had just survived an assassination attempt.

“Thank you so much, everyone. Thank you for your patience and for coming to the reception this evening. We don’t normally subject our guests to such security scrutiny, but in case you didn’t hear the gunshots earlier, I had a little mishap outside.”

The guests murmured, and there were a few chuckles before the secretary of state called out, “We’re very happy to see you well, Madam President.” The entire group voiced their assent.

“Thank you. I am fine. Thanks in large measure to Ambassador Masri, who I was showing our new shade structure to at the time.” Everyone tittered at that. “I guess I’ll think twice before bragging about our White House landscape architects again. But please be assured that the Secret Service and our military personnel here on the grounds are doing everything necessary to ensure we catch whoever did this and that everything is safe and secure before we escort you off the premises. Thank you for your patience.”

She said good night, and the group went back to milling about, waiting for permission to leave.

“That was perfect,” Kamal told her as she walked back to the secured area of the room, where the Secret Service immediately surrounded her again.

“Thank you. I hope you don’t mind that I mentioned you. I figured it was only a matter of time before someone said that you’d been outside with me, and I wanted to head off any questions.”

Kamal nodded. “Of course.”

“Madam President,” the secretary of state interrupted. “The chief of staff and press secretary are both here and they’d like to brief you before we hold a press conference.”

Jessica looked at Kamal for a moment, all the longing of earlier in the evening playing through her head. She would so much rather be alone with him right now than standing in front of the world at a press conference. But what she wanted had ceased to matter years ago when a small airplane went down over the Atlantic Ocean with John Hampton and three other United States senators on board.

“Of course,” she answered the secretary. “Give me one moment, please.”

She turned to Kamal. “Will you wait for me, Mr. Ambassador?” She watched his deep brown eyes and saw everything she felt reflected there—disappointment, regret, and longing.

“I would be honored to, Madam President.”

“Good.” She motioned for one of the agents to come over. “Would you please escort the ambassador to the sitting room in my residence? Ask the kitchen staff to check with him and get him anything he needs. I will meet with him when I’m done holding the press conference.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As Kamal was escorted away, Jessica couldn’t help but feel that tonight had proved more than ever that she might never be free to live the life she wanted. She might never be free to be Jessica again.