Chapter 26

Henry

It’s been a few days since Beatrice’s run-in with the paparazzi, and all things considered, she’s settling in here and adjusting quite nicely. We seem to have found a good balance so far, and she’s actually making being the president and dealing with things a lot more bearable.

I can honestly say that I love being president, I truly can. I’m doing things that make a difference, helping shape the minds of tomorrow, making my mark on the world, and helping to better our country.

I generally love my day-to-day, but meetings like this one always seem to drag on and on, and I find myself distracted by the halfway mark.

I’m in the Oval Office, meeting with the Speaker of the House as well as a few other high-ranking officials and senators, and this particular meeting is exceptionally boring.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the topic of discussion wasn’t something that we’ve already hashed out a dozen times—it’s like beating a dead horse at this point.

So, while the Speaker is droning on about matters we’ve discussed already, I’m sitting here, ‘listening’ and ‘taking notes.’

In reality, I am listening, but the note I’m writing is definitely not relevant to the topic at hand.

I glance down at my paper, and I smirk as I re-read what I’ve written in my note to Bea, knowing full well that she’ll blush a thousand shades of red when she reads it—hopefully in front of someone.

Chuckling softly to myself, I fold the page in half and bring my full attention back to the speaker who seems to be wrapping up—finally.

I’ve had about enough of this for today.

I stand from my seat, and that cues everyone—namely the Speaker—to stop speaking. One of the really great things about being president is that when you stand up to say something, no one dares to interrupt you.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough of that for today. If we’ve got any concerns or changes to make regarding this, we’ll reconvene, but I don’t imagine we’ll need to discuss it again.”

I hope that drives my point home.

The room starts to empty, and I buzz Lawrence to send one of the interns to my office. Before I know it, a young man is whisking himself into the room, the tell-tale intern badge swinging around his neck as he approaches my desk.

I lean forward and squint so I can read his name on his badge and smile, digging through my desk drawer.

“Hello, Todd. I have a task for you.”

“Yes, Mr President.”

I pull out my wax and presidential seal and apply it to the dirty note I wrote for Beatrice. I hand it over to the intern and look at him with focused intent, wiping my face of all traces of a smile.

“I need you to bring this to Miss Barlow at once. Give it to her and her only. No assistants, no other staff members, her. Do you understand?”

He nods eagerly and takes the note from my hand, darting out of the room to complete his errand.

The office is nearly empty now, and I sit back in my chair. Immediately, I lean back with a smile, and I start to think about how fun it’d be to be a fly on the wall when she reads that note.

A final lone senator approaches my desk and narrows his eyes, his arms crossed in front of him.

“Mr President, is this woman going to be a distraction for you? You didn’t seem focused during the meeting.”

I’m taken aback at how brazen he is, and I glare at him. I’m not the type who likes to have my motivations and dedication questioned, especially from a man who’s been caught—on more than one occasion, I might add—with his pants down, literally, and generally having no fucking clue what the people of his state actually want.

I stand from my chair and lean into my palms on the massive desk—my desk—as I meet his eyes.

“No, Senator. She won’t be. And you’d be very fucking wise to keep your opinions and concerns regarding my personal life to yourself. Are we fucking clear?”

I dare the man to rebuke my words, and he visibly shrinks at my tone.

“Sir, Mr President, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean? Or didn’t think?” I interrupt him abruptly and coldly with a look to match. “Would you ask this of a president who was already married? Would you ask him if his wife would be a distraction to him? No, you wouldn’t. Now get the fuck out of my office. You’re dismissed.”

He nods curtly and quickly leaves my office, making his exit like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The meeting has me pretty frustrated right now, and I still have loads of paperwork to get through before lunch. I stare at the towering pile on my desk and force myself to get a start on it. The sooner I get it done, the sooner I can get to lunch.

I spend the better part of two hours with my head down at my desk, powering through documents that need my signature, approving initiatives, and writing letters to various people and organizations.

Once I’m finished, I’m more than a bit relieved to be sitting in the dining room just off my office without a scrap of paper in sight.

There’s a knock on the door, and I beckon it open. I smile when I see Beatrice walk though as the staffer opens it for her.

She’s holding my note in her hand, and she waves it in the air, a bewildered look on her face—and a flirty smirk.

“Really, Henry?”

I smirk and nod at the staffer to close the door. I laugh when she stands a few feet from me with a hand on her hip.

She’s got a kick-ass, fitted pinstripe skirt with a matching blazer and a white button-up blouse underneath it, a few buttons left undone. There’s enough skin showing to be enticing but not so much that it’s flashy or too bold. Pair that with the pair of black heels she’s got on, and she’s basically got me at her whim.

Not that I’d ever let on.

I flash her the grin that I know makes her weak and raise my hands in the air, palms up.

“What, darling, you don’t like my note?”

She rolls her eyes and smiles, shaking her head as she reads the note aloud.

“Dear Bea,

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is as follows: one, will you please join me in my private dining hall for lunch today at one? Two, don’t wear underwear. Three, tonight, Netflix and chill?

Sincerely, Henry.”

She giggles, tossing the note onto the table before moving to sit on my lap and give me a quick kiss.

“Honestly, Henry, did you really need to use the seal for that?”

I slide my hand onto her stocking-clad thigh and squeeze, running it up her leg until I meet the hem of her skirt.

Smirking, I look back at her and kiss her again, this time with more hunger. I tug her bottom lip with my teeth just as I pull away.

“The important question is: did you follow my instructions?”

She bites her lip and takes my hand into hers, sliding it up underneath her skirt, and I smile approvingly when I feel bare skin.

She sighs, and I gaze back at her, taking her lips again and running a hand through her hair.

I think I’ll take my lunches with her more often.