Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,69

rare, relatively quiet day. Anna is in meetings for most of the day, so I don’t expect to see her much. I think about sending her a text, but in the end I don’t. I don’t want to be pushy. I need to take it slow and let her lead and dictate the details of us for the time being. Besides, there’s no reason I can come up with to send her a text that doesn’t sound like I’m just looking for a way to contact her. I tell myself to wait.

I actually end up getting that chance sooner than expected. Not long after lunch, I’m working on my speech for the benefit. It’s only a few weeks away and the issue being important to me, I really want to knock this speech out of the park.

My desk phone rings, which is odd enough since it’s an internal line and only someone in the White House can dial it. Before today, it’s only rang one other time and that was the time Nicole called to tell me Anna wanted to meet for breakfast.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Mr. Hazar,” a man replies. “This is Director Thomas Standard.”

He doesn’t have to tell me what he’s the director of. I know him by his name. He’s the Director of the Secret Service. What I want to know is what the hell is he calling me for?

“Director Standard,” I say. “How can I help you?”

Because the press offices are on top of each other and we can hear whenever anyone talks, everything around me comes to a grinding halt the minute I say his name.

He doesn’t waste any time getting right to the point. “I’m in the Oval Office and we have a highly sensitive situation. I need you here immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” I stand up. “I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t tell your press pals anything,” he says and disconnects.

Of course when I step out of my office, no one is even pretending to work. I know they’re dying to know what’s going on, but I’m not about to piss off one of the nation’s top law enforcement officers. “Sorry,” I tell everyone. “Confidential.”

As I walk out of the press area, I overhear one last whisper.

“He doesn’t look that happy anymore.”

I cover the distance to the Oval Office in record time. Not only because the director told me to, but because I know it has to have something to do with me and Anna. What exactly, I’m not sure.

The agent standing outside the office sees me approach and opens the door to alert those inside of my arrival, I suppose. He doesn’t close it after, but opens it wider, allowing me to enter. I barely register the sound of it shutting behind me. I’m too caught up in what’s happening inside.

My eyes immediately seek out Anna. She’s in yellow today, a color I’ve never seen her wear before. I would say she looks beautiful, but the anger in her expression is a little off putting. On one side of her, David stands. The man I assume to be Director Standard is on her other. Nicole is notably absent.

“Madame President,” I say. “Mr. Herdsman. Director Standard.”

“Come here,” the director says, bypassing any formal greeting exchange, and I approach the desk with a growing sense of dread. “These were in an envelope slid under Mr. Herdsman’s office door during lunch.”

The Director shifts his attention back to whatever’s on Anna’s desk. David is shooting daggers at me, but the worst is Anna. She won’t even look at me. It’s a stark contrast to our last interaction, but a quick glance to the top of her desk to see what’s captured everyone’s attention tells me why.

There are three photos. They’re grainy, and a bit out of focus, but the images are clear enough to see, and they are all time stamped. The first one is of me and Anna meeting outside the press offices Thursday night. It was after she’d stood up. The second is of us entering her bedroom after leaving the Solarium Friday night. The third of me exiting her bedroom this morning.

“Who the hell took pictures?” I can’t stop myself from asking, unable to keep my eyes from the second photo. It’s too grainy to see our expressions, but you don’t need them. Our intent is visible in the way my fingers clutch the fabric of her skirt, my hand positioned too low to be entirely appropriate. The emotion seen in her upturned face, her arms moving up to