Chapter 10

Beatrice

I’m standing in my bedroom with a towel wrapped around me, having just gotten out of the shower.

After I got home and let Duke out, I decided that a quick shower would help refresh me, and get me ready for my date—for my meeting—with the president.

I mumble to myself and shake my head, looking at all of the outfits I have laid on my bed, trying to pick the right one.

“Okay, Beatrice, don’t overthink this. This is a business meeting, not a date.”

I hear a whine to my left and see Duke, tilting his head to the side and wagging his tail. His tongue is hanging out of his mouth sideways and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up before I can catch it.

“You’re looking sophisticated as always, Duke. No worries there.”

I stroll over and scratch behind his ears, eliciting a happy series of pants and tail wags as I do.

“Are you going to help me pick out what I’m going to wear?”

Duke whines again and walks toward the bed with me, and makes like he is going to jump on to it.

I panic and put my arm in front of him, chuckling and scolding him softly.

“Oh no, you don’t! I said help me pick out what to wear, not trample all over my clothes! The last thing I need is dog prints all over my dress.”

He wags his tail and trots around to the edge of the bed, hopping on the chest at the end of it and sitting. He peers down at my comforter that’s covered in clothes, as if he’s actually considering which outfit would work best for me.

I’ve got it narrowed down to three choices: a black dress, a navy dress, and a gray dress. All are of similar style; fitted and mid-length, conservative neckline and a zip in the back.

Very pretty but classy, like something a first lady would wear.

Good grief, I have got to get a hold of myself. I’m not going to be the first lady, this isn’t even a date! This is a business meeting, and I need to start thinking and acting like a professional if I want to excel in this or even keep this job.

Focus.

I toss the gray dress to the side and look at the two left—black and navy.

“What do you think, Duke? Black or Navy?”

Duke whines and looks at the clothing on the bed, then back at me, before he jumps off the chest and strolls across my room.

He jumps into the dog bed, turns around three times, and then flops down, huffing and looking up at me.

I scoff and mumble, my eyes darting between the two dresses I’m now holding up.

“Well, that wasn’t very helpful at all, Duke.”

After a few moments, I eventually decide on the black dress—as black goes well with everything. Then I pair it with a set of gray pumps and a subtle silver necklace with small, matching gray stones.

I sit at my vanity and look at my jewelry box, scouting for the earrings to go with the necklace. I find them after a moment, a pair of small, smoky pearl studs.

I walk over to my standing mirror and evaluate my outfit, and I’m quite pleased with my choices. I smile and tuck my hair behind my ear, then opt to tie my hair into a neat bun.

Once I’m satisfied with my preening in the mirror, I walk out of my bedroom and into the main living area where I’ve got a small desk. I grab the folder on top of it and open it to reveal the questions I had written down for tonight.

I made the list so I can stay on track and focus on my job, instead of the handsome man in front of me who I keep thinking about locking lips with again. I start going through the questions just when my buzzer rings, and when I answer it a man talks through the voice box, telling me that the car is here to pick me up.

I call out to Duke who’s still lying on his bed in my room as I lock the door, and he gives me a sleepy whine in response.

“Well, here goes nothing. See you later, Duke. Wish me luck!”

I make my way downstairs and get into the town car waiting for me.

During the entire trip, I go over my questions and potential points of focus, memorizing and practicing them in my head.

We arrive at the White House and I’m pleased to see that it’s much less busy than it was earlier, with most of the non-essential staff gone home for the day.

An usher meets me and takes me upstairs into the main residence, and then through a hall into the dining room. He leads me inside, and when I step through the doorway, there’s Henry—or the president, I’ve got to stop calling him Henry—sitting at the table, looking dashing as ever.

He’s wearing a navy pinstripe suit, a smooth white shirt, and a gray tie.

The tie just happens to go perfectly with my pumps and earrings, and I internally squeal at the fact that we match. I guess the black and gray was a good choice, not that it matters that we’re wearing complimentary colors, but it’s certainly not a bad thing.

He’s got his face buried in a binder of some sort, firm and focused. The second I step inside though, he sees me, and his face lights up with that gorgeous smile of his. He beams at me and gives me that grin that makes my knees feel weak and my heart flutter, and I smile back at him nervously.

“Beatrice! Come in, sit down, I’m so glad you’re here.”

I walk in and he gets up and pulls my chair out for me, holding it for me as I sit down and then helping me push it in before walking back and taking his own seat.

“Thank you, Mr President, I—”

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand and laughs, placing his hand midway across the table and leans forward, chuckling as he speaks to me.

“Please, Beatrice, it’s Henry. It’s just us here.”

I smile and nod, feeling the heat rise in my cheek— and I’m sure they must be of a scarlet color by now.

He takes his hand back and rests his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers together and resting his head atop of it. He gazes at me and smiles, and I look away as I grab my briefcase from at my feet.

I pull out my notebook and place it in front of me, along with my tape recorder. I set it up off to the side; close enough to hear our conversation clearly, but not so close that it will pick up every breath or pen scratch on paper.

I bring my gaze up to his and smile, gesturing to my list of questions in front of me.

“Alright, shall we get started, then?”

He leans back in his chair and smirks, tilting his head and chuckling as he speaks.

“All business so soon? Would you mind if we just sat and chatted for a while, without that?”

He nods at the tape recorder at the side and grins, shrugging his shoulders.

“Why don’t we just talk for now, off the record, and do the interview later?”

I shrug my shoulders and nod, flashing a flirty smile his way.

“If that’s what you’d prefer, that’s not a problem at all.”

He claps his hands together and leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table.

“Excellent. So, tell me about yourself, Beatrice. I’d love to get to know the woman who’s going to essentially document my every move for the world to read.”

I giggle and nod, looking back at him with a smile.

Maybe this won’t be such a difficult meeting after all.