Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance (4 page)

This isn’t happening, this can NOT be happening. 

“Madison, take your coat off, for crying out loud.”

I ignore my mother, still scowling at the man across from me as I shove my hands into the pockets of my coat, pointedly
not
taking his outstretched hand. He raises an eyebrow at me and
rolls his eyes
, as if I’m some sort of child that’s acting out of line here.

As if I don’t have every reason in the world to be absolutely floored by this revelation.

“Wait, so why can’t you just tell everyone
now?
” Major Ryan’s younger son, Dexter, the kid with sullen look on his face picking at his collared shirt and tie like they’re shackles or something rolls his eyes at his father. “Seems like it’s still this big secret if we still have to keep playing this stupid game.”

“Dexter-” The Major glares at his son before putting a hand over my mother’s on the desk. The kid looks like a little shit, but I have to admit he’s got a point.

“The wedding and your father and my relationship has to be kept in the dark for as long as possible, Dexter, because it
has
to be.” My mother - President Eleanor Adams - stands tall and squares her shoulders behind the desk. “It has to be or my opposition in Congress will hold everything up and not let a single damn thing I back or endorse through on the grounds of some sort of perceived scandal, because that’s just unfortunately the petty way things work in politics.”

“Petty like keeping secrets from everyone? Oh that’s rich.”

“Dexter! That is
quite
enough!” His father thunders at him, his whole body tensing up to his full military-grade poise.

My mother puts a hand on his arm though and smiles at Dexter in that way she does that just seems to settle things. The way she does that’s had voters flocking to her in record numbers since she was running for local town council back when I was a kid in Oregon. 

“This town is a man’s game, Dexter. As much as we’d like to say it’s a level playing field, we all know damn well that it isn’t.” She frowns. “And it’s bad enough that I remind them all of their mothers or their sisters or their wives, but I will
not
have those old bastards treating me as such.”

“I don’t understand why I have to be a part of this
charade,
and why is
he
here?” I scowl, pointing accusingly at Hunter. 

It’s a stupid thing to say, of course. Why
wouldn’t
Hunter be here? Even aside from being the son of my mother’s secret paramour, his father
did
just become Secretary of State. 

“He’s doing his part in service to his country, Madison,” my mother says with a shake of her head. “I
know
we’ve been over this. Hunter’s choice was to join the Secret Service after leaving the Marines. And he’ll continue his duties in the Service for appearance’s sake until Alec and I go public, at which point he’ll of course be removed from active duty.”

I’m scowling right at him, and my mother suddenly catches the look and frowns at me. “Do you two
know
each other?”

“No!”

We both say it at the same time, far too quickly and far too
loudly
, which only makes the red flush in my cheeks deepen as I cringe into my coat. 

He
seems to recover immediately though as he clears his throat and smiles charmingly at my mother. “I think maybe Madison and I met at one of the campaign fundraisers, Madame President.”

‘Madame President’; give me a fucking break
, I think, rolling my eyes.

“You were in Iraq, dude,” Dexter mumbles from the couch, glancing at his cell phone. “You didn’t have to go to those things.”

“Well,” he shrugs, turning to grin at me. That wicked, wolfish, teasing grin. The eyes that pierce right into me, and that arrogant, cocky stance like he’s not at
all
bothered by the nuclear meltdown happening in slow motion in this room. “Maybe we’ve bumped into each other somewhere else then.”

Please kill me right now.

My mother  turns back to me. “Well, anyways, you know perfectly well why you’re here, Madison. You’re here for damage control.”

“
Damage control?
”

My mother purses her carefully painted lips, and narrows her perfectly made-up eyes at me —  eyes shadowed with a tint that polls the best with her target demographic, I’m sure — as she frowns beneath her perfectly coiffed shoulder-length hair — a style I’m positive is meant to make her appear “just like one of the other moms” with her female voter base. 

“Madison, you’re going to have to start acting the part, you know.” She shakes her head. “I can’t have the daughter of the President running around leaving school and airing her gossip out to dry.”

I stare at her. “Mom, I left school because of Harry. Because he
hit
me.”

Okay, when the daughter of a Presidential front-runner winds up in a law-school medical center with a black eye, a crashed car and alcohol on her breath, tabloids get hungry. The fact that the only reason I’d driven in the condition I had was that my asshole boyfriend had
hit
me after I’d broken up with him was a bit lost on them.

And of course, the only reason anything got
aired out
to begin with was because of who my mother was. Any other mom in the world and I’d still be finishing my law degree. Not that my mother could be bothered to take that into account on her iron-march towards the White House.

Her look softens. “Yes, dear, I know. And I’m sorry, you know that.” She stands tall and regal looking behind her desk with the dramatic American flag hanging behind her by the window that overlooks the great lawn. “But we’ve been over this, and we
agreed
it would be best for you to spend the semester here.”

I know the story. Publicly, I’m taking a semester off to ‘explore the outreach possibilities available to me in Washington D.C. with my mother, the President.’ Checks have been written and handshakes exchanged
en masse
to ensure that the reality of me being on academic probation for drinking - not to mention my hastily swept away D.U.I. never sees the light of day. 

“I’m so glad you’re worried about my well being, mother.”

President Adams rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t be a drama queen, Madison.”

Dexter snorts from the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, grinning; “Oh man, this is juicy.”

“That is
enough
, Dexter!” Major Ryan thunders again.

Hunter steps up behind him and flicks his younger brother’s ear, which only has Dexter jumping off the couch to try and punch his older brother back. The room erupts as Major Ryan strides forward to get between Hunter and Dexter, my mother throwing her hands in the air and the two brothers squabbling.

What the
fuck
is going on here? This is
insanity.
My mom and Alec aren’t even married yet, and here we all are playing out the part of the everyday, normal, dysfunctional American family. A fucked up first family. 

I cringe, feeling my cheeks go red as the reality hits me again.
Family
; the man from that night is not only
here
, he’s my new
stepbrother.
Alec has Dexter hauled back from his brother, a stern finger of warning in his face as he hisses at him to “act like a man.” I look up, and instantly regret it as I lock eyes with Hunter. Hunter who’s smoothing out his black suit as he looks right at me, a grin stretched across his face.

Because this is
funny
to him. Because our history and its potential to absolutely shatter this office and the country it represents in light of what’s to come is
amusing
to him.

Why the fuck did I agree to this? I mean, I’m twenty-three years old; I’m an adult. I should have just gone and joined my friends for the trip to Europe or something; something
normal
law-school drop-outs do.
Not
dress in Presidential looking dress-skirts and jackets with pearls looking like a Kennedy and smiling on the freezing cold lawn of the damned White House. 

I cross my arms over my coat and shake my head at my mother. “I still don’t know why I have to be
here
.” 

“You’re
here
, young lady, because we need to
contain
this.” 

Ever the politician.

“My upcoming announcement with Alec is going to rock this office enough, Madison. I can’t have you running around out there being in tabloids as my wayward, college-dropout daughter with a drinking problem to boot, too. You’ll stay
here
, until after the announcement.”

“Wonderful. I’m a prisoner.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I’m keeping you in line and keeping us
both
out of the papers. You’ll stay here in D.C. at the White House for the semester.”

“Under armed guard I assume?” I say sarcastically. “A whole wing of security following me everywhere I go?” 

“Oh, just the one, actually.”

The room goes a little quiet as I jerk my head back to my mother. “What?”

She smiles broadly at me, like she’s about to deliver some good news. “Look, I get it, honey; I really do. You’re twenty-three, you’re an adult, and you don’t want your every move shadowed by a bunch of strange older men in suits, I
get
it.” 

Something inside of me pricks up, like a sort of sixth sense. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ here somewhere?”

“You’re only getting one agent, actually. One who we know you’ll get along with, one who is up to the task of protecting your well being, and one who-”

“
Who?
”

My mother flashes a smile at me — that big, warm politician smile that got her elected — before she suddenly turns to Hunter. “Someone close, and someone who can be trusted with
family
affairs.”

Oh my God
.

The suit, the earpiece, the knowing grin, the smug look of amusement; it’s all falling into place.

It’s all falling
horribly
into place.

“Alec and I feel that Hunter is the
perfect
man for the job of keeping an eye on you.”

It’s like everything's in slow motion as I whip my head around to look at him;
him
, the man with the piercing blue eyes, the smug look of arrogance on his face, and those sculpted arms crossed over his chest.

Him
, the man who’s now in charge of “keeping an eye on me.”

Him
, the man who made my body move and feel like never before. Him, the man out of a dark fantasy, who was supposed to
stay
there in the shadows of “that one crazy night.”

My protector, and my wicked, dirty little secret.

My
stepbrother.

I think I’m going to be sick. 

It’s the last thought I have before I shove past him, blow out the door away from my mother yelling at me, and run headlong towards the bathroom.

This is a catastrophe.

A national catastrophe.

CHAPTER FOUR