Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (69 page)

But the number was unrecognizable. The
area code was D.C., and I tapped the screen, ready to answer. I breathed into
it casually. “Hello? Amanda Martin speaking.”

“Amanda. Yes. Miss Martin, could I please
invite you back to the White House?”

My heart dropped into my stomach. It was
Xavier. It was the President of the United States.

I swallowed. “Absolutely, sir. I can be
there first thing tomorrow morning.” I couldn’t focus; my tongue felt so heavy
in my mouth. Did this mean I got the job?

“No, no. I don’t think you understand. I
need you to arrive as soon as possible. I’m sending a car now.” Suddenly, I
heard him call into the distance. “Dimitri! Take a car. Go pick up Miss
Martin!”

I heard emptiness after that. He’d hung up
on me. Realizing I had less than fifteen minutes, I gasped, grabbing my skirt
and shirt from the floor and flinging them over my body once more. I needed to
hurry. I flounced up my brunette hair once more and spun around, already
feeling the vibrations, the excitement of the following few hours.
 
I didn’t bother with the tights—I knew I
didn’t have the time.

I’d gotten the job, I knew then. I was
literally on top of the world.

Chapter
4

I rushed out onto the sidewalk and found
Dimitri already outside, waiting for me in a simple, elegant, black vehicle. I
opened the rear door and swept in. “Long time no see!” I called up to him,
tapping the back of his seat in hello.

“I told you, Amanda,” he said with a grin,
peering at me through the rear view window. “You have to start trusting your
old friend, Dimitri.

“All right, all right,” I said
sarcastically, laughing. I gazed out the window at the incredible city—my
adopted home. In the darkness, it looked so beautiful. The moon shone on some
of the statues we passed as we swept along. “What’s going on up there?” I asked
Dimitri, trying to orient myself into the chaos.

“I think you’ll see. It’s—it’s madness,”
Dimtiri said, laughing.

Dimitri parked the car in the exterior
garage, and he walked me into the White House, giving me a brief pat-down in
the hallway. “Sorry. Every goddamned time, I swear,” he said.

I didn’t have time to banter. My head was
elsewhere. I tapped away from him after he swatted my ass once, and he didn’t
say anything, already so aware that I was in the zone, ready to take over the
show.

I walked into the West Wing, already
feeling the chaos brewing before me. Several desks were positioned in the great
room, side by side. People in various states of panic were calling into their
phones, even at nine o clock at night, spitting words with anger. I blinked my
eyes wildly, wondering where to turn. Had I gotten the job? Or was this some
sort of mad ruse?

Suddenly, a man approached me. He was
wearing this suit that seemed nearly lived-in. He was a bit overweight and
bald. His mouth was nearly barking at me as he spoke. “Thank god you’re here.
Finally, he made a decision on who to lead us.” He brought his hand forward and
grabbed mine, shaking it. “I’m Jason Ritz. Your second in command.”

My mind spun with the news. “So wonderful
to meet you,” I declared, nodding with affirmation. I knew, in that moment,
that I had to act like the smartest in the room. I was their leader. “Please.
Brief me on what’s going on.”

Jason led me through the hallway, back
toward the oval office. He stopped at a glass door and we swept inside, into a
small conference room. “Okay. First of all, welcome to the team,” he began,
pacing back and forth. “It seems you’ve been hired on a very dramatic day.” He
swept his hand through his balding hair. “We’ve dropped in the polls
significantly in the previous twelve hours. The drop seems incredibly random—as
in, we don’t quite know where it originated.”

I brought my hands into my pocket and took
out a notepad and a pen. I began scribbling. I oriented myself with great
authority. “We’ll craft a statement and get it out for the morning news. And
then we’re on serious damage control.
 
Agreed?” I said to him, my eyes on fire. I still felt the wine buzzing
in my head. But I felt the anger mixed with power fuel me. I was going to get
the president out of this mess.

Jason’s eyes widened at me. He wasn’t sure
how to proceed, I knew: not with this sudden knowledge that I—this young,
twenty-nine-year-old woman—could handle this near-catastrophe. A bead of sweat
rolled down his face.

Suddenly, he shot forward and opened the
door. “MR. PRESIDENT!” he called down the hall. Xavier had just walked past the
small room we were in, on his way toward the West Wing. My heart began to beat
so quickly. I continued to scribble my first formation of a statement for him
for the following morning—an outline to pass on to the public relations
specialists. But even through the noise of my beating heart, I could hear Xavier
speak the words: “Follow me” in the hallway.

Jason sped out into the hall and I
followed, tapping quickly.

“Amanda’s beginning to draft the
statement,” Jason said succinctly, sniffing toward the president.

For all the chaos surrounding him, Xavier
seemed so calm, so cool. He simply nodded toward me. Eyeing me in that peculiar
way he always did. “Good start, Amanda. Welcome to the team,” he stated.

We walked into the swarms of people—the
campaign team I’d been a part of only four years before. Now, I led them.

I stood at the helm of the swarming crew
and I tapped my hand on a desk, allowing it to rattle back and forth. The
people slowed down, placed their phones on their desks. They blinked up at us.

“Okay, crew,” I called to them, utilizing
that firm voice. The president stood beside me, and I could feel his attention
like a blanket, wrapped so firmly around me. “My name is Amanda Martin. Many of
you know me from the last round of elections. Those of you I don’t know, I look
forward to getting to know you.” I nodded to them, driving my speech forward.
“As you know, we lost a few notches in the polls today. Nothing we can’t jump
up from. Nothing at all. I will be stopping in with each of you as the night
goes on to see what you are doing and to work on an action plan” I passed my
pencil over them, sort of like a wand. “Let’s get this thing under control.”

With that, I nodded toward them once more,
allowing them freedom to continue on their phone calls, their tap-tappings on
the keyboard. I turned toward the president and nearly bit my lip with
anticipation.

But all he said was this: “Let’s get
started on this statement.” He sat at the desk before me, offering me a chair
beside him. I gulped, feeling a bit naked before him.

I started wishing I had thrown my tights
back on.

“Here are my initial thoughts,” I began,
my mind whirring. “We are not going to apologize for the dip in votes or
outwardly acknowledge it in any way.
 
We
don’t even know the cause for the sudden drop yet, but my guess is it might
have something to do with your stance on education getting a bit more focus
from the 24 hour news networks, so I think that should be our focus.
 
Let’s confront the fact that your revolutionary
ideas about education are worrisome in people’s minds—and let’s tell the
American people that you have a plan to keep going, to keep charging forward to
make change, that there cannot be improvement without a move towards progress.
Let’s anticipate what they might be worried about, and maybe convince a few
more voters along the way that you’re enacting good change.”

The president’s eyes were stern, so
serious. “Amanda.” He tapped the paper before me. “This is assuredly the best
plan. Let me speak to Jason.” He gestured for Jason to come toward him. Jason
leaped up from his chair by the door and rushed toward us both, looking a bit
like a schoolboy—or an excited puppy. I felt embarrassed for him. “This is
Amanda’s rough plan,” Xavier began, stating the words I had just spoken with
sincere precision. “What are your thoughts?” The president asked him, his
eyebrows furrowed.

Jason nodded, again padding at his hair
with his right hand. “It’s brilliant, Mr. President. If you think it’ll work, I
do.”

Xavier turned his head back toward me,
nodding. “Shall we proceed with the plan?”

I began writing, then, feeling nervous
with the president’s breath hot on my neck. I felt so earnest, so unsure in his
presence. I wanted to create a smooth transition for him from this presidency
to the next. I swallowed as I wrote, listening to the president as he continued
his conversation with Jason. I wondered why he was there—why he was still
there. Generally, Xavier hadn’t spent much time with the election crew the last
time around.

I began thinking, abstractly, that the
president was only spending all this time with the election crew in order to
see me. I felt the thought pass through me, and then I flung it to the side.
These thoughts were so useless—so baseless.
Don’t
go there
, I thought.
He probably just
wants to get away from his wife, after all. Camille probably made his life a
living hell. He yearned for excitement. Or maybe just a friend.

Certainly, he didn’t yearn for a lover.

At three in the morning, after the
statement was outlined, flushed out, critiqued and tweaked, I said good night
to the bleary-eyed president. I walked outside, where Dimitri was waiting with
a car in the lot. I popped into the rear seat, and I forced my eyes to stay
open until we arrived home. Dimitri spun his head around and smiled at me. “I
heard you did well in there,” he gestured with his head.

I nodded, yawning wildly. I stretched my
arms over my head. “I can’t even think straight. They’ll release the statement
in the morning. Will you send the car for me, or are you off tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here,” Dimitri said, laughing.
“Come on, now. I don’t have a life.”

I shook my head, feeling the heat from the
president’s soul. I felt like there was so much I wanted to know about him—so
much I wanted from him. I shook the thoughts from my head. “Neither do I, of
course.”

I jumped from the black car and ran toward
my apartment, where I fell onto my bedspread and fell instantly asleep.

Chapter
5

I woke early, just three hours after I’d
arrived home. I leapt into the shower and scraped my nails against my scalp,
trying to wake myself up. I knew that Dimitri would arrive in only an hour and
that the news would get the press release at around nine. I needed to be at the
office when it happened. It needed to go well. I began counting the numbers in
my head, hoping the polls would rise once more. This had been my first
twenty-four hours on the job—well, less, actually—and already I was nervous,
riddled with anxiety. And, of course, I was more excited than I’d been my entire
life.

I strapped my black dress over my body and
shoved my feet into my black heels. I dried my hair swiftly, taking extra care
to make it look prim and precise. I knew all eyes would be on me in my new
position as lead of the campaign. Of course, I knew one pair of eyes in
particular were interesting to me. But I couldn’t think about it. Not yet.

I grabbed my bag and I fled down the
steps, finding my trusty friend, Dimitri, already parked out front. I jumped
into the back seat and Dimitri sent a small coffee through the small portal
between our seats. “Here you are, my lady.”

“Oh, god. Dimitri, I didn’t have time to
make coffee. Thank you.” I breathed in the beautiful aroma and felt my brain
waking. “How’s the mood at the White House?” I asked him.

“It’s anxious, of course. Everyone’s
waiting for the press release. It was sent to the news this morning.”

“Yes. Yes. Good,” I said, already deep in
thought. I sipped the coffee and leaned forward, feeling the blood beating fast
in my arms and legs.

I was smart to leave at 7 since traffic
was so bad. Finally, we pulled up in front of that White House, the very home
I’d been fearful of only twenty-four hours before. It seemed that so much had
changed. “I’ll catch you later, Dimitri,” I called to him, running from the
car. I wouldn’t give him time to frisk me; not today. I rushed through the
door, feeling my portfolio banging against my leg as I carried it, still
holding the coffee cup in my hand.

I flung myself into the West Wing. The
campaign workers were still aligned at their computers, as if they hadn’t left
the previous evening. Their eyes were bleak, working ever toward a future of
continuous phone calls, campaign work, and seemingly gray days. But I
understood; I had married my work years and years ago. I didn’t even understand
who I was anymore.

“It’s coming!” Jason called from the side,
yelling at the campaign workers and I. I knew he meant that the press release
was happening, then: that this was the very core that our cause relied on. This
needed to go well. I rushed toward the television and pushed people to the
side, knowing that it was up to me to save this re-election campaign.

The news anchor stood with a microphone
positioned near her face, her eyes bright. The White House stood far behind
her, almost looking like a model. It was strange to me that I stood in that
very building as I stared at it on the screen.