Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (103 page)

But I
didn’t allow my ears to hear her penetrating words. I was far too distracted.
For suddenly, standing before me, looking wide-eyed, shocked, was Jason. His
white business shirt was un-tucked all the way, now. The tails swept around his
knees. His tie was loose and crooked, and his face was red and splotched. My
heart dipped into my stomach when I saw him. What had Xavier done to him?

Jason’s
eyes darted down, below my eyes. I wanted to say something to him, in that
moment—something saucy, something that initiated my win. But I couldn’t find
the words. Instead, after a small moment’s hesitation in which we just
half-looked at each other, with a reporter screaming into our ears, we went by
each other like ships in the night.

I
nearly shook with the intensity of the previous moment. I couldn’t believe how
terribly Jason had looked. God, he’d tormented me in so many ways, both
physically and emotionally. But it still hurt to see a man fall so far. Xavier
must have said something to him, done something to him. He must have threatened
him within an inch of his life. This Xavier, I reminded myself, was the same
man who initiated drone strikes, who signed off on major wars. I shivered,
thinking of our nation’s past—the things that Xavier COULD feasibly change as
president, and the things he would never be able to. Not without incredible
reform.

I
paused at the doorway of the West Wing offices, looking out over the sea of
heads, each of them busy with the impending campaign. I brought my fingers to
my lips and wiped them, trying to think through this terrifying time. I knew
that I didn’t want Jason’s reputation to be ruined. I didn’t want his life to
be over. I wanted him to continue on in his political career. Certainly nowhere
near me, of course. He hadn’t technically ruined Xavier and I, although he’d
had his finger on the trigger the entire time.

I
swallowed, feeling myself growing lost in my thoughts. I knew that the
afternoon meeting was drawing forward, in which I would be required to address
several members of our campaign team, alongside both Jason and Xavier. The
men—who’d clearly fought like children in a playground earlier that
morning—would be hard to handle. I knew they would be.

But
beyond anything else, I knew that Xavier had won.

I knew
that Jason would refrain from ruining us.

And I
knew that I still had so much to maneuver, so much to discuss with the
president.

As
much as I just wanted him to wrap his thick, firm arms around me, to assure me
that everything was okay, I knew I needed to cleanse my rushing mind and find a
truth for our relationship—a path down which we could walk, hand-in-hand, while
still meeting each of our personal, political goals.

In
many ways, I knew that in this pending conversation, I had to assure Xavier
that I was his equal. That I wasn’t to be thought of as less than. That my
wants and needs were powerful—that I wouldn’t turn them away.

Finally,
I watched as the relevant campaign team rose from their seats, ready to proceed
toward the afternoon meeting. I clapped my hands, more trying to wake myself up
than anything else. “All right, team. I hope you’ve all grabbed your statistics
from the previous day?”

I
turned back, feeling like I was leading an army toward the conference room. The
campaign team that was following me was a smaller version—the leaders of the
smaller “teams” in the greater campaign group. Each had its own subset, its own
worries. We would address these worries with each campaign leader this day. I
remembered that I’d been one during my time with Xavier’s first campaign. God,
how I’d held my nose high in the ear—just like these schmucks were doing
now—just because I felt high-and-mighty, just because I felt that this was just
one on the road of many steps that would ultimately propel me to high political
power.

Perhaps
I’d been right.

But I
hadn’t been nice about it.

I
allowed the campaign leaders to enter the room and find their seats at big,
twirling leather chairs. I stood outside and waited for a moment. I felt my
heart quivering in my chest. Finally, around the corner, I saw a shadow. Xavier
appeared: his beard dark, his eyes brooding. Three Secret Service agents
followed behind him, their heads bald and gleaming in the hallway light. Xavier
brought a hand up to greet me, and he stopped short before me, bringing all
three secret service agents to a halt, as well.

“Amanda,”
he whispered. “How are you?”

I
nodded, biting my lip. “I wanted to tell you. I really need to talk to you
about something—in private.” My voice was filled with breath. I huffed into
each word.

Xavier
brought his hand to my upper arm. I wondered about this—so open? So uncovered?
But I couldn’t care. His touch was a comfort. “I understand,” he murmured.

I
gestured toward the Secret Service agents. “Is everything okay?”

Xavier
nodded. “They upped my security after the Jason incident. I’ll fill you in on
everything later. Okay?”

“Is
Jason coming to the meeting?”

“I
think he knows not to,” Xavier informed me. He pushed open the door, allowing
me to enter first. “Shall we?”

I
nodded and entered the meeting, feeling all eyes on me. I snapped my binder on
the table before me, alerting the members of the campaign that the meeting was
coming to a head. Xavier stood beside me—such a powerful force to have at my
side. “All right, team.”

But
the meeting was generally uneventful. After a while, I was able to get through
the tremors I felt about Jason missing the meeting. The back of my mind ticked,
wondering where he was, where they were holding him, if he was fired—But the
streaming thoughts didn’t affect the meeting. And no one on the campaign team
raised their alarm bells, curious about Jason’s whereabouts. Generally
speaking, many people on the campaign team couldn’t stand that snake-of-a-man;
they came to me with their questions and looked toward Jason with distrust.
Strange that their feelings about him were so correct, even without any tactile
backing.

Finally,
Xavier and I dismissed the meeting. I sat in the black, leather chair, spinning
slightly, back and forth, as the people proceeded back to their desks. “Thank
you, everyone,” I continuously said, flashing my pearly smile. But I felt my
happiness dissipating. I knew that Xavier and I needed to face real truths, in
the following hour. I knew that we had to gear into our relationship, tear it
apart perhaps, in order to allow it to survive. It was, in so many ways, like
that Rose Garden downstairs. Faltering, falling apart—at least in my tired
mind. We had to make it grow once more.

Xavier
sat beside me. He turned toward his Secret Service agents. “Could you please
give us several moments alone?” he asked them.

The
agents nodded curtly and escalated from the room, leaving us in a pocket of
quiet. I swallowed, feeling that I could hear every mechanism in my body, my
rushing heart included. I looked toward my fingers.

After
allowing the silence to stretch far too long, Xavier finally began. “Amanda. I
know you called this meeting for a reason. You aren’t one for wasting time.”

I
wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t find the air for it.

“Please,”
Xavier murmured. He brought his hand over mine. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay,”
I breathed. I twirled my chair toward him and forced myself through the words.
“Yesterday, I went for a walk through the Rose Garden. A strange time of year
to do it, sure. But such a solace and understanding passed over me. I
understood that—that so many things about this relationship aren’t good for
me.” I allowed the words to glimmer in the tense air.

Xavier
frowned, but he didn’t say anything. He would trust in my words, no matter what
they were.

I
continued. “Not that it hasn’t been wonderful. God, it’s been wonderful.
There’s something electric between us. But this relationship doesn’t align well
with my goals. I have a million things I want to do in my lifetime. Political
goals I’ve had since I was a little girl. Even—even silly ones. Like being
president someday.” I bit my lip, gazing up toward him. He didn’t scoff or
laugh, like I’d assumed he would. “I just. I’m trying to imagine the next five
years. Us together, sneaking around, even while your wife knows everything. It
feels wrong, Xavier. It feels—distasteful. Off.”

Xavier
considered this for a moment, bringing his fingers to his chin. “And does the
relationship feel off to you right now?”

I
considered his words for a moment. I shook my head slowly. “No. It feels
incredible. It feels like—the sort of relationship I’ve been waiting for since
I was a girl.”

Xavier
nodded. He brought his fingers toward mine and laced them through, linking us.
I felt the rest of the world humming around us, but everything was so solid, so
stark, there between us. We were the last, flickering flame.

“Amanda,
Amanda. This is one of the reason I love you,” he murmured.

I
blinked, unsure of what he meant.

He
continued. “I love that you think, think, think all the time. About your
dreams, about your goals. I love that you’re not willing to give them up, just
because you’re falling in love. But please. Don’t misunderstand. I don’t expect
you to give up on anything, because of this. I expect you to continue doing
your job, to continue working up at the White House. You have a bright future.
I saw it when I first met you—when we first had your interview, in the Oval
Office.”

My
eyes were so bright toward him, feeling like his words were too good to be
true.

He
continued. “I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did, but I don’t. I can
assure you that I won’t try to get in your way on your path toward your dreams.
And I can assure you that I want to be with you. These are the only two things
I can readily understand. If experience has taught me anything at all, it’s
simply that no one knows what the future will bring. An example of this? I
thought I’d become a baseball player when I grew up. I thought I’d want to be
married to Camille for the rest of my life—and not just the five years our
happiness lasted.” He adjusted himself in his leather chair. “But I know that I
want to be with you, that I want to fight forward on this journey with you.
This doesn’t mean I’ll help you. I know that you don’t need any help, anyway.
But it does mean that I’ll stand by you. I’ll take hits with you. I’ll be with
you, and I’ll see what life has in store for us.” He shrugged his shoulders,
his eyes still revealing such intensity.

My
heart was beating so fast in my chest. I bit my lip, my heart bursting with the
knowledge of his words. He understood my qualms, and he had rectified them
completely. “Xavier. For so long, I’ve regimented every element of my life.
I’ve known what my next steps are going to be, every step along the way. And
now—“

“Now
I’m asking you to go with the flow a bit more. To have fun with your life. I
think you need that,” Xavier whispered. He brought his fingers up toward my
cheek, feeling the softness of my skin. I closed my hand, loving his touch on
me.

And
then, with my five-year-plan ripped from my brain, with all caution tossing to
the wind, I wielded my head forward with my eyes closed. I kissed Xavier, the
only man I’d ever truly loved, with a sort of abandon that I, myself, could
have never imagined. I brought my arms around his chest and rubbed at his
thick, pulsing muscles. His lips met mine with such love, such passion, as
well.

There,
in the meeting room in the West Wing, it seemed that we sealed the deal: to
trust in each other completely, to have fun with each other, despite
everything, and to take hits, side-by-side.

As
Xavier and I exited the meeting room together, grinning wildly at the press
outside, I felt my head brimming with such happiness. Perhaps I’d been meant to
meet Xavier my entire life, if only to bring a looseness, an acceptance to my
life. Everything seemed like it was gleaming. “No comments today,” I told the
press sweetly, as I parted ways with the man I loved and returned to my desk.
Our eyes caught each other as we swept our different ways, and my cheeks tinted
pink, with love and secrets.

Chapter 8

That
evening, I arrived home to find Rachel tucked into her favorite chair by the
television, a book sprawled in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand. She
shook her head at me as I entered, eyeing me like a hawk.

“What
is it?” I asked her.

“You’re
glowing,” she whispered back.

She
joined me at the counter, then, watching as I poured a glass of wine for
myself. My hands were still shaking from the events of the day. I couldn’t
believe that Xavier had aligned us so perfectly in some strange, off-beat
future—a future in which we could be together, side-by-side, no matter what was
going on around us. A future in which I could still reach toward my dreams.

Rachel
placed her hand on her hip, twirling her wine glass on the table beside her.
“Do you want to go out?” she asked suddenly. “You can meet Michael, if you
like. He’s going to be at this bar called—The Mousetrap, I think. He said
there’s dancing.” Her eyebrows bobbed up and down on her face, making me laugh.