Chapter Four
I tapped the long rod against the board behind me, explaining the campaign to a few of the team members. “We have to assert to the American people our sure and steady comprehension of education, of readying American children for a better future.” I nodded my head, gazing at each of the team members’ assertive eyes. They were each ready to go into the campaign world and take over, make something of themselves. Truly, I was rooting for them.
Suddenly, I felt a shadow pass over the back of the crowd. My eyes darted up, and I found myself eye to eye with Xavier. I hadn’t spoken with him in several days, and just his presence in the room seemed to make my entire body shake. I raised my eyebrows. “Any questions?”
A man in the front row raised his hand. But my eyes were still drawn toward the president. I wanted him to speak.
He brought his hands together then, after a long, terrifying, full-of-tension pause. He clapped loudly, allowing the echo to course through my spine. “Amanda. That was a beautiful presentation.”
Several of the campaign team members nodded their heads in agreement.
“With a team like you all,” Xavier continued, moving next to me. He brought his hand behind my back, almost too low. I smiled, unsure, knowing what he was risking. “I don’t know how I could possibly lose.” He winked at us all, and a few people laughed. “Now! Back to work.” He barked these words with a grin on his face, bringing an overall sense of calm to the area. The people on the team knew who they were working for; they knew that he was a good, kind-hearted person—a person who’d worked the past three years, fighting tooth and nail with Congress to pass some of the most essential bills in our country’s history.
I spun toward him, blinking wildly. I placed my hand on his and removed it from my back. “How are you, Mr. President?” I asked him. I could feel Jason’s eyes on us from across the room, but I didn’t care. “I see you’ve been quite busy lately. You haven’t been answering my emails about the campaign.”
He raised his left eyebrow—the one I liked so much. I felt my stomach flip. “You know how I feel about boring emails. Let’s get it handwritten next time.” He winked at me.
I laughed. “My, my. You’re quite the old man, aren’t you?
He shrugged his shoulders. He leaned toward me and I nearly felt his lips against my ear as he whispered, “Come to my office this afternoon. I want to talk to you about the campaign.” He winked at me as he drew away.
My face had already turned an incredible beet red. I scratched my head. “Okay,” I whispered.
I sauntered back to my desk and scribbled something—a few spare words—into a notebook. I could still feel Jason’s eyes across the room. Finally, the burning became too much. I lurched my head up, and his eyes were filled with vitality. He was bringing his fingers together like an evil conqueror, considering his next plot. I bit my tongue and tasted blood. This terribly dressed man could ruin my life.
I was simply his pawn, ready to do his bidding.
But I stood, knowing I needed to meet the president. I paused at Jason’s desk. Jason still peered up at me, his lips curling into a smile. “I have to go to the Oval Office,” I stated to him with authority. I looked down my nose at him in his chair. “Is there any sort of message you’d like me to pass on to the president?”
Jason tipped his head to the right. “Just don’t be too loud in there,” he stated, his eyes wicked.
I wanted to stomp my feet, to tug at my hair. I wanted him to leave me the hell alone. But I knew I held no real power over him. So I nodded my head. “I’ll recommend that you take on some new responsibilities or something?”
“Whatever you feel is right,” Jason stated, shrugging. His eyes looked so bright, so happy. What evil coursed through that man?
But I brushed it from me as I walked. I remembered that just the previous day I’d been so sure that my mind and my heart could find happiness, that I could go with the flow—at least for now—and take advantage of this truly mind-altering situation. I remembered his body over mine, almost like it was fiction I’d spun in my head.
I greeted the Secret Service agent and he opened the door for me, his face stoic. I wondered if they talked about me—the other woman.
I shivered.
Xavier sat in his chair on the other side of his desk. He smiled at me as I entered, and I bowed my head toward him. “Xavier. It’s been a moment since we spoke,” I stated. I felt the strained cordiality coursing through my throat.
He gestured toward the chair before him. I reminded myself to enjoy my life, to make my life all it could be. I swallowed and sat, crossing my legs. I tipped my head to the right, coyly. “What matter brings me here?” I asked him. I didn’t ordinarily ask him these questions. We ordinarily didn’t speak like this during work hours.
Xavier brought his hands out before him and gazed at his long fingers. They held nothing. His wedding ring glinted on his left hand. “I try to meditate,” he said then. “I try to make my mind come clean, to not think about anything.”
“How is that working for you?” I asked him, swallowing. I tried not to laugh, not to smile.
But then, a smile stretched across his face. “It’s not working at all, Amanda. I can’t get you off my mind. Not for a single second.” His words were low and quiet. He shook his head and leaned toward me, over the desk. He reached out and grasped my hand. I held his, running my thumb over his skin. He sighed. “What are you thinking about?”
In that moment, I realized that we’d been thinking about the same things. We’d been thinking about each other, about us—as a couple. I swallowed and shrugged my shoulders. “Everything. Nothing.” I swallowed. “And mostly you, I suppose. Just you.” My voice was raspy.
Our eyes met across the table. I leaned toward him. Our faces were inches apart, and our whispers were easy, direct. It was almost like we were talking to each other in bed. I told him the events of the campaign team that day, what we’d accomplished. He told me about his business meeting with the governor of Washington State. Our words were easy, laced with a serious comprehension of the political world. But always, beneath us, we were linked. We sat, hand in hand.
Finally, after many minutes of political talk, he stopped. He bit his lip, and his eyes peered into mine with such a question about them. “You know. I had a wonderful time the other night.” His voice rose at the end, as if he were trying to get a feel for what I thought about the evening, if I’d had a good time as well.
There was no question; it had been one of the best nights of my life.
I nodded slightly, feeling my hair drape around my face. I swallowed. “It was magical, Xavier,” I whispered. Even as my heart panged in my throat, I knew that it was right; this was what I wanted. I wanted to ride out this wave of feeling and reach the other side—even if the other side was death and destruction, a complete loss of my career.
Xavier nodded. He leaned closer and brought his free hand to my face, bringing his fingers through my brown, luxurious hair. “And I want you to know that I hear you—I hear your problems with what I said. I understand why you panicked. I can’t just leave my wife. Not yet. I don’t want to scare you off, certainly. This is all I want. This. What we have. Right here.” He leaned closer to me, and he kissed me, catching my lips with his. I felt the sunlight emanating in from the great window on his other side. I sighed, feeling my pussy pulsing beneath me. I wanted him so bad. But this moment in the sunshine, this moment in which he told me that he wanted me, that he was willing to wait for me—was beautiful enough.
The stress seemed to fall from me so easily in the wake of the news that Xavier was going to wait to tell his wife, that he was going to respect my wishes. I shivered as I pulled away from the kiss. My passion for him was growing, even as I felt that we were in a car that was about to ride over the cliff and into the ocean.
“See me again soon,” Xavier whispered to me. I thought of all the things on his mind—about the way he was meant to take over the world, about how he had so much riding on his shoulders. And all he wanted for relaxation was my company, my body. My conversation.
And so I nodded. “If you play your cards right, Mr. President. I think we can make that happen.” My voice was light. I stood up and removed my hand from his. I bowed my head and turned back toward the small door in the middle of the wall, hidden in the oval curve. I opened the door and closed it, feeling like I was removing myself from an arena of comfort.
The rest of the pulsing, crazy world—that’s what I had to worry about.