Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (78 page)

But then I remembered the photos; I
remembered the sheer scandal. I knew that Jason could hold this higher and
higher above my head, until suddenly I was dangling beneath it, killing myself.

I shook my head slowly, still feeling like
I was about to tear up. I felt such passion in his presence, like I could find
true happiness with him. But I needed to rid the thoughts from my mind.
“Xavier. I appreciate the sentiment,” I began. My voice was strained. “I
appreciate it a great deal. But I can’t—I can’t go with you.” His eyes looked
so strained. “You have to understand that it’s not personal,” I continued. “You
have to know that it’s just—it’ s just because there’s so much going on right
now, you know. There’s the campaign—“

But he just waved his hand to the side,
like he was brushing off the existence of his own campaign. He stood up,
showing me that muscled, taut body. He ran his smooth fingers down his suit.
“If that’s your answer for now, I accept it. But only for now.” He brought his
hand over the desk and caught my hand in his, shaking it. I felt such tension
between us. I half wanted him to grab me by the waist, to toss me on the desk
before him. There, in the oval office, I imagined that we’d fuck on the desk,
against the window—calling out to all the campaign workers down the hall with
such passion.

But I shook his hand, instead, allowing
the feeling to pass.

I spun around. My long, brunette locks coursed
down my back. I knew that he was watching me, looking after me. I turned my
head back, still feeling that bit of daring energy in me. “You know. Don’t give
up on me, Xavier. You know where my office is.” I winked at him.

But suddenly, I felt it: the lurch, the
fear in my chest for what was going on outside. As I exited the Oval Office, I
could nearly feel Jason’s grasp on my neck. As I tapped by his desk, I could
feel his eyes on me. I wanted to spit at him, to tell him he was not only
keeping me from the man I felt such passion for, he was also keeping me from
doing my job the way I pleased.

I shook my head at him as I passed,
unperceptively beginning a war with him in my mind.

You will pay, I thought.

Chapter
5

The following few days, I found myself in
a blur of anger and obedience. Jason had begun to call me on my cell phone
often simply to check up with me, to allow me to understand that he’s watching
me all the time.

One specific night, he called me on the
phone while I sat at my kitchen table, a glass of red wine resting before me.

“Hello?” I heard my voice quiver, and I
felt such shame. I drank the wine quickly, feeling the tang of it against my
tongue.

“Well, well. How’s the biggest slut in
D.C. doing?” he asked me.

My voice grew hot. “What do you want,
Jason?” I tipped my head, knowing that I couldn’t be too angry with him. Not
overtly. I had to let him know that I would follow his orders; I would do
whatever he wanted, as long as he allowed me to get out of this mess,
eventually.

“I’m sorry. Is that a bit of sass I hear
in your voice? Because you know what I can do about that.”

I swallowed, trying to quell my anger.
“I’m sorry, Jason. Just a hard day. How are you doing?”

“Just fine. Just fine. I’m actually
swinging up in front of your apartment. You care to come out and see me?”

I panicked. I bounced from my chair and
ran toward the window. Sure enough, down on the street sat a long, stretched
black limo. “That’s you in the limo?” I asked him.

“But of course. You know I only do things
with style.”

In that moment, I remembered his
ridiculous, ruffled shirt and his continuous unkempt appearance. I wanted to
laugh. But then I remembered.

“I can come down. But only for a moment,”
I stated, turning back. I grabbed my coat and pounded down the steps, my heart
racing. I tried to push myself out of fear. I tried to tell myself that soon
the campaign season would be over. I tried to remind myself that as long as I
did his bidding, I could stay involved in the White House proceedings. I
wouldn’t lose sight of my goals. Not yet.

I tapped toward the stretch limo, hearing
my heels against the pavement. I blinked rapidly, trying to tell myself not to
cry. I couldn’t in the face of him. I swallowed and pulled the door open,
placing myself just on the inside, far away from his languid body. He was
smoking a cigar, and the cigar smoke emanated throughout the cab, making me
cough.

“Amanda. I hope you are well,” he said.
His voice was filled with such slime.

“And I, you,” I murmured. I placed my hand
over my mouth, trying not to inhale the stench. “Can I ask you why you’re at my
house?”

He smiled on the other side of his cigar.
“You know I’ve been here before, Amanda.”

I imagined him placing the cameras
throughout my apartment, tossing his grimy hands through my fine things. I grew
so angry thinking about it that I placed my nails into my skin. I penetrated
too deeply, then, drawing blood.
 

“Anyway. I’m sure you’re wondering why I
called you out here. I didn’t do it for no reason.”

“Sure, Jason. Not that it isn’t great to
catch up.” I tossed him a raucous, sarcastic smile. This sarcasm seemed to
please him.

“Ah, yes. Just a saucy young lady, aren’t
you?”

I raised my eyebrow. I didn’t want to say
anything else.

“All right. I have another request for
you. Another assignment, shall we say. You do work for me now, after all.”

I tipped my head to the right. “Sure,” I
murmured. I felt the words, so scratchy, coming from my throat.

“I need a private session with the
president. I need you to get it for me.”

I raised my eyebrow, then. “I thought you
had that authority already?” I didn’t mean this as an insult, you must
understand. I truly didn’t comprehend that perhaps things weren’t going as
Jason had planned in his relationship with the president.

He grunted. “Ah, yes. Well. You and the
president, as those little photographs allow us to understand, have an
incredible relationship. When I can’t meet with the president, you can arrange
it. Is that clear?”

I nodded, swallowing. Was he—was he
actually the campaign manager? I realized I had still been doing most of the
responsibilities. Perhaps the president had given him a few more duties; but
perhaps the president hadn’t turned to him for anything more. Perhaps their
relations were strained.

I could hardly think. I reared up on my
seat, turning toward him once more. “So. This meeting—it’s over?” His face
broke into a sort of sad, evil smile. I suddenly realized that this man had
taken advantage of me in nearly every way possible. He’d tried to ruin my life,
and everything still wasn’t working so well for him. He grinned, but I saw the
instability in his smile. His teeth were brown.

I got a bit daring, then, just as I placed
my hand on the handle of the vehicle. “So you’re—you’re planning on meeting
with the president for what reason, exactly?” I asked him, spinning my head
around once more. I tapped my heel against the plastic on the side of the car.

But his face broke out into an angry grin,
then. He shook his head. “Ah, no. You won’t fucking ask me questions like
that.” He reared up, as well, and leered toward me. “You don’t have the right
to ask me things like that. A know it.”

I bowed my head, feeling so angry, so
horrified. I suddenly became certain that he only wanted this meeting so that
he could hang the photos over Xavier’s head. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want
Xavier to know that I was being manipulated. Surely he would think that I was
stronger than that. But of course, I wasn’t.

I bit my lip and pushed myself from the
car, out into the street. I spun around and watched the limousine speed away. I
felt my sanity dipping away as it fled.

I didn’t know how long I would be this
puppet. I felt like I was going to be strung along forever. I turned back
toward my apartment. When I reached the table, I poured myself the largest
glass of wine of my life. I had to drink away my sorrows. I had to fall away
from this existence. Perhaps in the light of the morning, I would discover
another realm of possibility. I could understand what to do.

Chapter
6

The next day, I sat at my desk, across the
churning room from Jason. I watched as Xavier walked toward him and leaned
down, whispering something to him over the chaos. Jason nodded curtly and
turned back toward him computer. It was so rare that I saw them talk; I wasn’t
sure what was going on.

But then, Xavier turned toward me. His
eyes were bright. I could feel him analyzing every single cell of my body. I
felt naked in front of him. I licked my lips and turned back toward my
computer, trying to find something to think about, something beyond my sheer
infatuation with the President of the United States.

But then: his shadow appeared before me. I
looked up, acting surprised. My voice came out so slowly. “Hello, Mr.
President.” I could hardly hear myself.

“Amanda,” he said. His face looked so
open. “I just wanted to check in with you about—about the other day.”

A bit spastically, I waved my hands in
front of my face. “No, no. Mr. President. It’s fine. I’m just—I’m a mess right
now. The campaign is going really well, but at the cost of my sanity, I’m
afraid.” I gave him my surest smile—the smile that told him I had everything
under control. But god, I didn’t.

He nodded. I wanted him to take my face in
his hands; I longed for him to kiss me so deeply, in a manner that forced my
knees to dip to the ground. I bit my lip, wishing him to both go away and stay.

Stay.

But he remained, for better or for worse.
“Jason’s doing an okay job, isn’t he?”

I turned my head toward Jason, watching
him as he spewed into a phone, his face red. “He grows angry easily,” I
murmured, gesturing.

But Xavier placed his hand in the air, in
a fist. “I suppose you must have passion in this business.”

The words hung between us like a cloud. I
longed to tell him, then. I wanted to tell him that Jason was terrorizing me;
that he was the only person who knew about our one-night stand. (Because, at
the end of the day, what else was it? It was a one-night stand. It couldn’t be
termed anything else.)

Suddenly, two secret service agents
appeared on either side of the president. One whispered in Xavier’s ear.
Xavier’s eyebrows rose, and he turned toward him, speaking loud enough for me
to hear. “Well, did you tell her I’m working?”

My mind began to rush. Was he talking
about his wife?

The secret service agent whispered in his
ear once more. His voice was so low, I assumed it was in some sort of code.

“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,”
Xavier stated, then. His voice came gruffly from his throat. He casually rolled
his eyes toward me, like we were sharing a secret joke.

I nodded, feeling my hair as it ruffled up
against my neck. “I’ll see you later, Mr. President,” I murmured casually,
watching him as he walked away. I felt nearly like swooning, for a moment. God,
this was all too much.

I turned my head back toward Jason, then.
He was still at his desk and he slammed his phone onto the wood, his hair in a
tuff above his head. I felt confidence surging through me. I plucked myself
from my desk and walked toward him, feeling my firm shoulders waving this way,
then that. I sniffed toward him, leaning over his desk with such femininity,
such confidence. I knew he couldn’t handle it—that his confidence came and went
with his sliminess.

But he leaned toward me, seemingly
unperturbed. “Amanda. Can I do something for you?”

“Actually, you can,” I whispered. “I would
love to speak with you in the other room, campaign manager. Just if you have a
moment.” My words were laced with sarcasm.

He stood, then. “Lady can’t keep her hands
off me,” he muttered toward me, making another snide remark.

But I turned and led him toward the back
office—the same office in which he’d revealed the photos to me all those days
before. When the true terror of my life had begun.

I closed the door, then, trapping us in
there together. I turned toward him and brought my arms together in front of my
chest. I cleared my throat before I spoke, tracing my eyes over his sloppy
body. He was in such strange contrast to the president.
 

“How long do you plan on holding these
photos over my head, Jason?” I asked him, then. My voice was high-pitched, but
laced with such anger.

He raised his eyebrows toward me. “Now,
that isn’t the language I want to hear from my champion girl.” He took a step
forward, toward me. He was intimidating. I leaned against the wall. “Better
question is this: have you arranged my meeting with the president yet? I saw
you both speaking a bit earlier. He was giving you those eyes. God, office
romances are the worst, aren’t they?”

I felt the wood of the door behind me. I
longed to rush out, away from him. But I had to stand firm. “Tell me how much
longer you want to play with me,” I demanded in a harsh whisper.