Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (77 page)

I cleared my throat and
sat, my eyes still peering over his shoulder and not toward his eyes. I could
hardly look at him without being filled with desire. “I—“

“You don’t think he’s
working out,” the president stated, interrupting me. “He seems much like a
slimy snake to me. We can fire him immediately. I can have a whole series of
interviewees to you in just the afternoon.”

God, Xavier. Just shut
up, I wanted to say to him. I couldn’t, of course.

I cleared my throat. “On
the contrary, Mr. President—“ I spoke. There was such tension between us. I
knew he wanted to fuck me in that moment; I knew he wanted to take me, there,
on his presidential desk. “Jason is a true attribute to our mission here on the
campaign trail. In fact, I would like to step down and allow him to move
forward with the campaign. I’ll work beneath him; I wouldn’t abandon the
campaign in a million years, of course.” I cleared my throat. I watched as his
eyes lowered to the ground, disappointed. I knew that he felt I was doing this
because of the other night, because I felt uncomfortable in his presence. I
knew he felt he would never see me alone again. He was right.

“I’m sorry you feel this
way, Amanda,” he whispered. His voice was so sad, filled with unhappiness. “I
believe that you’re doing a fine job at the helm of the campaign. Suppose I
didn’t allow you to quit?” His eyes turned up toward me, catching me for the
first time. Our eye contact seemed to spew fire. I swallowed.

I shook my head. “There’s
no possible way I can move forward at the helm of this campaign. I am sincerely
sorry, Mr. President,” I said as resolutely as I could muster.

I bowed my head toward
him, reducing our eye contact. I wondered if he could tell that something was
afoot—that I was being controlled, in a way. I wondered if he could smell it on
me: the betrayal.

Even as I stood before
the president, listening to the silence between us, I could feel Jason’s hand
around my throat, forcing me to say everything I was saying. I’d never been in
this position before: this position in which I was meant to be eternally at the
mercy of someone else—in which I gave up my position of power so that another
person could take over.

“I’m sorry to hear this, Amanda,” he said
again. He bowed his head, bringing his fingers together. “Please. Send Jason
into the office so that I can de-brief him for his role.”

I nodded, spinning back around. I felt
like I had just taken a bullet in the war, that I was being sent back to the hospital
even while the war raged on. I exited the beautiful office, knowing that I
wouldn’t spend much time there anymore.

Dimitri, on the outside of the Oval
office, sniffed at me as I exited. “How did it go in there?” he asked me
gruffly.

I knew he thought I’d just fucked Xavier,
that I was “that kind of woman” now.

Although, I suppose, I was.

I flung my head toward him and whispered
harshly in his face. “Don’t you dare fuck with me.”

And then I walked back down the hallway,
feeling enraged. I could feel Dimitri’s eyes on me. I felt terrible, truly. I
knew that beyond anything else, Dimitri was one of the only people I could
trust in the White House. He was a good ally, especially in the face of Jason’s
terror over me. However, I felt too proud in these moments to do anything but
spew hatred and anger toward him.

I was on the verge of a breakdown.

I sauntered back into the room that was
spewing with such activity. The campaign trail was hot, and we were in the pit
of the fire. I turned toward Jason, wanting to spit on him in that moment. His
eyes met with mine, and there was humor lurking beyond there—like this was all
some big, made-up joke.

“He wants to see you,” I whispered,
gesturing with my head to the left, toward the Oval Office.

Jason stood, pulling at his shift and
subsequently yanking it from his belt once more. He sniffed and leaned toward
me, kissing me on the cheek. “I knew you’d do the right thing,” he whispered,
winking at me.

And then he walked down the hallway,
toward the Oval Office, with such haughtiness. I watched as Dimitri opened the
Oval Office door for him, looking confused. Dimitri turned toward me, his eyes
dark, searching.

But I spun back toward my desk, nearly
tripping on the chair of one of my employees. I righted myself, feeling my head
spinning. I yelled at the man before me: “GET BACK TO WORK!” even as he began
to kneel down and help me to my feet. I felt the anger growing in a million
different ways and I wouldn’t allow anyone to assist me. I had to destroy this
on my own.

I would get back to the top. I just didn’t
know how, yet. I didn’t know how.

Chapter
4

I finished the remainder of the day:
answering emails, barking the occasional order. It was clear that Jason would
eventually make the announcement that he was above me, soon. But I didn’t want
to make the announcement yet. I wanted to dwell in the remainder of my high
status before everything came crashing down.

I ended my day rather early, however,
wanting to get out of there. Again, I brought my cardigan around my body and
scurried away from the White House—the very home in which I’d felt so sure of
myself, just weeks before. When I’d interviewed with Xavier. When I’d wanted
him, all the while knowing that I could never, in a million years, have him.
 

A million years had happened since then,
of course.

I hailed a taxi and collapsed into it,
still thinking about Jason. I hated that after a few days of thinking only
about love, I was now rooted in the comprehension of hatred. I just wanted
revenge on this man. I wanted to find my way through his terror and come out on
top. But I didn’t know how.

As we zoomed away from the White House, I
had a sudden idea. I called up to the taxi driver. “Sir? Could we stop at the
monuments? I—I want to take a walk.” I swallowed. I hadn’t taken time to myself
like this in years and years: time in which I was meant to reflect, to enjoy my
life. In this moment of sheer rage, I knew I needed to take a moment to
appreciate everything.

The taxi stopped at the outset of the
great park. I paid him extra to wait for me, and I bounced into the open air.
It was September, and summer was filtering away from us. I could smell the
winter in the air. For some reason, I could taste Christmas cookies; I could
imagine the holiday season.

I neared the Washington Monument, then,
shoving my hands into my pockets. I sighed before it, remembering that
eternally, this monument gave me such promise. Now, it simply gave me peace
from all the sadness lurking in my mind. The great spear reflected across the
water, signifying all the history pulsing beneath the surface of this
Washington D.C. earth.

I remembered that in the past, when I’d
faltered—if only for a moment—I’d been able to turn to my roving brain in order
to come up with a plan. But there, in front of the Washington monument, I
couldn’t feel anything in my mind but despair. I reached into my pocket and
brought out a quarter. Washington’s face glinted at me: but nothing lurked
beneath his eyes. I tossed the coin into the water, feeling at a loss for my future.

I turned back and ran toward the taxi,
feeling such desire in my soul. For something. For what? I needed the president
to love me, to want me. And in some ways, I knew he did. But I needed so much
more, as well.

It was like I was meant to choose between
evil and good. It was like between choosing between my wants and needs. It was
like I was pressed against the wall without any air pulling into my lungs, just
grasping and gasping.

“Take me home,” I whispered to the taxi
driver as I lurched into the great vehicle, feeling my body quivering. “Take me
home.”

The following days at the office seemed to
pass without notice. I began to get used to the feeling of being under
someone’s thumb—something that I never thought I would think, truly. But I
passed by Jason’s desk every day and began to grow used to his leering smile; I
began to understand that he was just a man utilizing me as a pawn. This was
something that had been done all throughout history, without fail. I was sure
that George Washington, himself, had even used people as pawns in the past. It
was a matter of course on your way to the top.

Three days after I’d recommended Jason for
the higher-up position, I received a call on my desk phone.

“Amanda?” the voice said.

I realized I hadn’t seen Xavier in a
number of days, not since I’d recommended Jason. I swallowed.

“Mr. President. Would you like me to alert
the campaign leader?”

“No, Amanda. I’d like to see you in my
office.”

I swallowed, peering at my computer. It
was so bright before me. It was like I couldn’t hear anything anymore, like I
was alone in this raucous world of politics.

“Amanda. Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” I whispered. But I could
hardly hear myself.

“Please, Amanda. Come to my office.” The
voice was nearly pleading. It was ringed with some sort of despair.

I hung up the phone without answering and
stood, tugging at my dress once more. I began walking toward the edge of the
room. I felt Jason’s eyes on me. He looked at me so in a snarky
manner—revealing to me that he was my superior. I allowed my eyes to graze over
him. I knew that the president’s call was about more than the escalation of
Jason’s career. I knew it was about our relationship—about the undercurrent of
our normal conversation. I still had so many, many feelings for him. My stomach
turned and I quickened my step.

Another secret service agent stood outside
the Oval Office door, standing tall. I stopped before him, without speaking.
The man turned the handle and allowed me to enter.

Outside, it was a grey September day. I
sniffed and tapped in, noting that the president had turned the chair away from
me, toward the window. He was looking at the rain.

Before I could speak, he interrupted my
thoughts. “Quite a bleak day, Amanda,” he stated. His voice was gruff.

“Yes,” I quivered. “It certainly is.”

He swung around, then. His fingers were
laced together. He looked very much like a cartoon version of a world leader.
He gestured forward, offering me the seat before him once more.

“Is there something wrong with the
campaign?” I asked him.

But he just waved his hand before his
face, shaking his nose with an almost imperceptive movement. “There’s nothing
wrong. Both you and Jason seem to be doing a stunning job. Truly.”

I sat, hearing my knees creak a bit. I
knew that the stress was getting to me. I swallowed, feeling the strained
sexual tension between us once more. “So. What’s the deal, then?” I was
challenging him, trying to comprehend what was going on in his head.

Xavier brought his hands apart and placed
them before him, on the desk. He flexed them slightly. “Well. The thing of it
is, Amanda. I’m quite worried about you.”

I swallowed. “Worried about me?”

He nodded. “The woman I met all those
weeks ago—the woman I came to grow fond of, let’s say, would never have quit
this. Would never have given this position off to another man.” He shrugged,
then. “She wouldn’t have allowed this to happen.”

I shook my head vehemently. “I can assure
you, sir. I can assure you that—“

But he interrupted me. His voice was soft.
“Amanda. I want you to be happy; I don’t want what happened between us the
other evening to interrupt your career. I told you before: your life is set,
here. You have a job whenever you need it. This path is yours.”

I bowed my head. “I understand that,
Xavier. I’m just—I’m in shock about what happened between us. You have to
understand that.”

He tipped his head to the right, trying to
gage me. “You haven’t grown close to anyone recently, have you?”

I didn’t know what to say. Of course I
hadn’t grown close to anyone. I’d been married to my career. My career was the
only reason I’d gotten this far: all the way to the Oval Office, playing the
part of the other woman. “I haven’t,” I murmured.

He nodded, then. “I understand how you
must feel about all of this, of course. I understand that this is a lot to take
in—that every day here must be filled with stress. Of course, you must
understand that I feel the stress, too.”

I nodded. I gazed at his solid expression.
His eyes locked with mine. He felt like home; he felt like the only person I
had ever trusted.

“I had a great time with you the other
night, regardless of the stress,” he began again. He looked at me with such passion.
“I know that it’s awkward for you; I know that it might be too much to ask. But
I’d love to get together with you again. It’s only with you—with you,
Amanda—that I feel good about myself.”

My head was spinning. Was the president of
the United States really saying this to me, right then? I didn’t know what to
do.

He began again. “Know that I think about
you all the time—that you are an essential part of my being. I want you to be
with me, Amanda. Please.” He tipped his head forward once more. “Just one more
date.” His smile skirted across his face, like he was playing a game with me. I
wanted to laugh.