Page 49 of The Press Secretary's Passion
“Yeah,” I agree for lack of anything better to say. It’s a lie, and I think we both know it is. I won’t ever consider selling my body to a man I don’t love, let alone trust, just so my brother can one day be president. Those are his aspirations, not mine.
I pick up my takeout box and my purse from the table and head out into the camera flashes of the local media with a fake smile on my face. I’m barely through the door when someone bumps into me and practically slams me into the ground, when I’m swept into a set of arms.
“Excuse me,” I say until I look up at who has a hold of me, and then I want to throw up.
“Fancy bumping into you here,” Senator Chancellor says as he smiles brightly at me.
The media all around us is chomping at the bit for pictures and answers to questions. There’s not a damn thing I can do right now, because I’ve been expertly caught in his trap, one that’s very similar to the one his son set for his own wife. He’s much too powerful in the political arena, still, for me to take on all on my own. I’m going to have to wait and see if I can undo the trap that he so skillfully set for me.
Carefully, I extricate myself from his arms with a polite but in no way inviting smile on my face and then head in the direction of my car. I’m seething by the time I beep the locks on my key fob and drop down into the driver seat.
I thought I was having dinner with my brother.
I was sure I was being used.
I had absolutely no idea he was setting me up for a fall.
I drive myself home like a little old lady, although in hindsight, maybe a reckless driving ticket would have made me less appealing to the president’s father. Who knows? I toss my dress in the dry-cleaning bag, even though I contemplate burning it or throwing it in the trash, and pull on my ugly period sweats and eat my leftovers in bed, leaving the carton on the nightstand. I’ll pick it up tomorrow, when I’m on my way back to work—that is if this doesn’t screw me again.
And then I tuck myself into my covers and promise myself that after work tomorrow, I will adopt eight cats like Grace and never even look at a man ever again. And then I fall asleep, and it won’t be until much later that I would realize Ryan never showed.
“Pretty Press Secretary Swept off Her Feet by New Beau”
Chapter 15
Armor
Idid not see that coming.
This morning when my alarm rang, I felt relieved. I missed being in the office. I thrive on being at the heart of the news day. And to be at the heart of the nation and see first hand the making of that news is awe- inspiring, so even though my personal life is an absolute shambles, I was ready to be back, and I jumped out of bed with excitement and a grateful heart.
I showered and dressed with care in a black suit of skinny-cut slacks, a matching tailored blazer with a peplum waist, and a taupe silk blouse underneath. I dried and curled my hair in soft waves around my shoulders to soften the look and applied tasteful makeup in soft pinks and shimmery golds. I pushed my diamond studs through my ears and wrapped my watch around my wrist, and I stepped into a pair of sky-high Louboutins.
I know it seems weird and most wouldn’t feel the same way, but my heels are my armor. They give me confidence. There’s just something empowering about donning a great pair or a red lipstick. It makes me feel bold. And something tells me that after last night, I’m going to need to be bold today. So I’ll take my armor in any way it might come.
Even though I was excited to go back to work, it was not without a fair amount of trepidation. Gil and Senator Chancellor set me up last night, plain and simple. I trusted my brother as the only member of my family who deserved my faith in him, and I’m not ready to completely give up on him, but he chose to side with my parents in my current battle, so I need to keep that in mind. Not because Gil can’t be trusted, but because the trust I had already given freely—even if a little misguided—is going to cost me, and I won’t know just how much until I hit the office this morning and see if I’m still on house arrest.
I stopped in the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese at home. Usually, I’m a breakfast skipper, but I was so excited to start my day that I blew through my preparations in record time.
I still stopped for my latte on my way into the capitol. I parked in my usual spot in the staff lot, and I made my way through security like I always do. I kept to myself, not on purpose but because I was lost in my own head. I didn’t notice the weird looks I was getting from the people around me.
I made my way down the hallway and into the staff offices. I fired up my computer and logged in, but I didn’t have time to tap into the press wires yet, because my office phone started ringing, bringing me to the now.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Ms. Fairchild, the president needs to see you ASAP,” the bitchy secretary says without greeting. Weirdly enough, there’s a hint of a smile in her voice that sends a chill down my spine. If she’s happy about calling me, things are not going to go my way.
“I’ll be right there,” I reply before hanging up.
I drop my purse in my desk drawer and secure it, even though there’s a strong chance I’m about to be fired.Shit.I make my way down the hallway quickly, knowing it won’t bode well to keep the president waiting when I’m being called down to the carpet.
The secretary smiles like the cat that got her cream when she sees me, and I feel sick to my stomach. This is not good. Regardless, I look her square in the eye and hold my head high. She smirks but doesn’t say anything, and I raise my hand to knock on the door.
“They’re waiting for you,” she purrs, and I don’t look back at her. I let my fist knock on the door.
“Come in,” Jake barks from the interior. Shit, shit, shit. He’s really mad.
I square my shoulders, push the door open, and step inside.
