Ashley
“You’re the queen of the ballroom,” Austin whispers into my ear as we waltz through the room arm-in-arm. I look up at him and smile, a warm feeling making my heart beat softly.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” I whisper back at him teasingly, my smile widening as another senator lines up to greet us.
Austin’s Town Hall performance was a show for the ages, something akin to Jimmy Hendrix at Woodstock, and everyone seems to have decided to turn this fundraising dinner into a celebratory gala of sorts. Of course, luck would have it that the place would be packed with all the usual DC suspects. But what was I expecting? You don’t go to the Ritz to mingle with your everyday American. And, although I’m not interested in impressing all this supposed elite, that’s the reason I’m now wearing an expensive deep blue Carolina Herrera gown. I might not want to impress anyone tonight, but I have to do it; it’s part of being Austin’s fiancée.
“Congratulations, Mr. President,” another senator says, shaking Austin’s hand heartily and then turning to shake mine. It’s been like this for the past 20 minutes, since we strolled inside the room that an army of senators, aides, pundits and what have you, have lined up to congratulate Austin on his terrific performance at the Town Hall. Judging by the way some of these senators are speaking, you’d say that the Presidential elections are just going to be a formality, one to open the way into four more years of Austin as President.
More than just a great success for Austin, the Town Hall was a kick in the balls for Walker. Austin wiped the floor with Walker’s reputation and, after his little stunt of giving Walker’s phone number to the audience, I’ve heard that all of his staff has been buried under all the calls they’re receiving. The media should change Austin’s nickname from President Player to President Prankster.
Giving Austin a moment of privacy with one of the senators, I step to the side and accept a flute of champagne from one of the passing waiters. I lean slightly against one of the walls at the end of the ballroom, watching him from a distance.
I can hardly believe that, just a few weeks ago, I felt nothing but disdain toward Austin. And now look at me, feeling proud of my man. And, yeah, I said my man. I can’t say exactly when I started developing feelings for Austin, but it happened. At first I thought it was just lust and desire, a physical craving that somehow was making me feel all confused, but I quickly realized that it was more than just that.
And now, looking at him in his perfect tuxedo, his strong posture dominating the room, I can’t help but feel proud that I’m his fiancée. I know… I’m just a fake fiancée but, somehow, this feels real. Taking a deep breath, I try to push all these feelings to the back of my mind, after all, I have a job to do.
Finishing with the senator, Austin makes his way toward me, dodging a long line of people still expecting a personal word from the President.
“This is going well, isn’t it?” he asks me, placing one hand on my waist and looking around the room with a confident smile.
“It’s going perfectly,” I reply, keeping mental notes of how everyone in the room is reacting to him. Most people are genuine in the way they’re congratulating Austin, but some of them just rub me off in the wrong way. And, trust me, if there’s something I’ve learned how to do, it’s how to read people. I guess that the talents that helped me turn my company into a success are coming in handy now.
“But it’s going to be even more perfect once we get out of here,” he whispers offhandedly, his words barely audible.
“Oh, why’s that?” I reply in the same tone, looking at him and running my tongue between my lips. It’s not like I need him to say it ... but I want him to.
“Celebrating here is fine … but I want to do a celebration of our own once we get home. A naked kind of celebration.”
“You’re in luck ... “ I whisper teasingly, offering him a wicked grin. “I’ve already saved us some time.” He arches one eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, and I just smile and breathe out softly. “I’m not wearing anything under this gown…”
“Jesus,” he mutters with a chuckle, stealing my flute of champagne and downing the whole thing at once. “You keep saying stuff like that and I might end up fucking you in front of all these people.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” I laugh, but I quickly shut up as a tall man with balding hair steps through the double doors of the ballroom all by himself. Even though I’ve never him, I’ve seen his face enough times on TV to know who he is.
Bob Walker, Speaker of the House and Austin’s sworn enemy.
I can feel the tension rise in the room as Walker ambles through the ballroom, his beady eyes finding Austin and me. Without a missed step, he makes a straight line toward the both of us, an arrogant smile adorning his thin lips.
“Mr. President!” he greets Austin with his high-pitched voice, offering him his hand.
“Walker,” Austin replies coolly, taking the man’s hand into his. “Glad you’ve found the time to show up.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss a party like this for the world, would I? And who is this lovely lady?” he asks, turning to me as his grin widens. He knows exactly who I am, but he’s still insisting on a formal introduction. This is the kind of man who needs the political game of intrigue more than he needs the air to breathe.
“My fiancée, Ashley,” Austin introduces me, and I offer Walker my hand. He takes it in his and, instead of simply shaking it, he bends over and kisses the back of my hand with a flourish from his free hand.
“Glad to finally meet you,” he tells me, locking his eyes with mine. Although I can’t say exactly what it is, there’s something in the way he’s looking at me that just makes me uncomfortable, as if there were bugs crawling under my skin. “I see that the lovely Korean ambassador has been forgotten,” he continues, straightening his back and looking straight at Austin. He’s provoking him, throwing him the hook and bait in the hopes that Austin bites on it.
“I didn’t take you for the kind of man who would read the tabloids,” I say before Austin can utter a single word.
“I don’t read the --”
“They just print anything, don’t they? All they want is to sell … and I guess that some people out there just enjoy their conspiracy theories.” I started by being subtle but the more I speak, the bolder I grow. “I’m just glad you didn’t bring your tin foil hat to the party, Mr. Walker. Although, I must say, I think it’d suit you,” I tell him casually, as if I was commenting on the weather.
“Seems like you’ve found a smart woman, Mr. President,” Walker throws at Austin, completely ignoring my remarks. Then, his gaze falling over me, he looks down my body with an appraising expression on his face. “Perhaps too smart for her good,” he whispers, and I can’t even tell if he meant for me to hear it.
“I guess it’s true; some men are really intimidated by women with a brain,” I find myself saying before I even take the time to measure my words. There’s something about Walker that just unleashes that combative side of me.
I swear to you, it’s like the air goes quiet around me. You ever been in that situation where it seems like everyone is now looking at you?
Well, that’s me now.
Walker is quiet. He’s sizing me up.
“Sometimes pretty little ladies should know when to just shut up and look pretty,” he says with an evil smile.
En garde.
“Sometimes old blowhards should know when they’re outmatched,” I reply back with a steely voice. I can tell that Austin is looking at the two of us. But my eyes don’t move from Walker.
Before Walter can reply, though, Austin grabs me by the arm.
But I shrug him off.
“Old blowhards might know more than they let on,” Walker replies back coolly. “Enough to wipe the fake smile makeup off pretty little ladies. Never underestimate what an old man can get up to.”
No it’s not just Austin. There are literally a circle of people watching me.
And his reply is baiting me. Merde.
“Oh, I know for a fact what old men can and can’t get up,” I say, eyeing him and pointedly looking at his crotch. “And I’m not worried about what they can try to get up. Because I know it won’t last more than an hour when the Viagra wears off.”
Touche.
Walker doesn’t know what to say. And before he can do anything, I leave him sputtering, turning around and walking the other way.
“Enjoy yourself, Walker,” Austin says in a hurrying after me.
“What?” I whisper as he pulls me across the ballroom, leading me toward a quiet place.
“He’s a dangerous guy,” he says in a hushed tone. “You don’t want to become his target.”
“It’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it? Besides, I don’t like men like them, always prancing around as if they own the world.”
“I’m serious, Ash. I worry about you.” He turns to me and looks me in the eyes, an expression of concern deepening the soft lines around his eyes.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him, running my fingers down the length of his tie. “Men like him don’t scare me.”
“You know, Ash, I like it when you get tough,” Austin replies, lowering his voice until it becomes a barely audible whisper.
“You do?” I ask him, taking one step toward him and almost pressing my breasts against his chest. “Why don’t you show me exactly how much you like it?” This time I’m the one lowering my voice, anticipation filling my words.
“Just wait till we get home and --”
“Why wait?” I cut him short, the gears inside my mind already turning fast. “I know where all the security cameras are; which means that I also know where the blinds spot are.
He doesn’t even try to argue against me. He simply matches up the desire dancing inside my head with his words.
“Lead the way, Ashley.”