my arm. “Come with me, ma’am.”
If I wasn’t so embarrassed at how close we’d been only moments ago, I might fight harder. But as it is, I settle for giving David a tough glare.
“This isn’t over,” I warn him.
“Tonight, Miss Waters.”
“Veronica.” If I have to use his first name, he can damn well be informal too and use mine. Maybe that’ll teach him to treat me like a person and not just a pawn he can use to get away from a national scandal.
His eyes glint with amusement. “Veronica.”
David
I stare out the window of my office, up at the clear blue sky.
I knew being president would be a busy job, but I barely get a moment to myself. And right now, I’ve got about-
My chain of thought is interrupted by my phone. Typical, just typical.
I check the caller ID. It’s George, my Vice President. About time.
I pick up. “George.”
“Mr President. Sorry it took me so long.” George’s thick, southern drawl is especially noticeable over the satellite phone.
The Vice President is in the middle of taking a short vacation, hiking in the Rockies. He deserves the time off after the long campaign trail. And given how much the man loves hiking, maybe even more than me.
I update George on the situation.
“I see.” The connection isn’t great, and there’s static for long enough I begin to wonder whether I’ve lost him. “Well, it sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into a right spot of trouble.”
“You can say that again.”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
I laugh. That really is the million-dollar question. “For now, go along with it. Hopefully the things with the girl will blow over if we keep our heads down.”
“If you’re lucky,” George replies. “Though you do have a fair amount of luck, Mr President.”
He’s right, I suppose, even though I don’t feel lucky right now.
“And the leak?” George asks. “Have you got a plan?”
“I do,” I reply. “But it could take some time.” That’s an understatement. I’ve had people working on something to catch out the leaker, but it’s really just down to luck as to when they actually get caught.
“You don’t have a lot,” George says. “If the leak lets this slip, then we’re both in serious trouble. You could be impeached. And it’d be worse for me. I’d have to take over from you.”
“You joke, but that’s a scary possibility.”
George laughs. “I’m sorry I’m not there with you, to be honest, but I know you can handle yourself. You always have been able to.”
“Thanks, George.”
“And Mr President, if I may,” George says. “Be careful. Look after the girl, and don’t go falling in love with her.”
I smile slightly as he signs off and hangs up.
His final advice echoes in my head. Don’t go falling in love with her. Falling in love with her. Love with her.
I’m not, am I? I’m not falling in love with her.
Sure, I think about her constantly, but that’s just lust. Not love. There are no feelings attached.
I stare back up at the sky. No, I’m not falling in love. I’m simply obsessing over her because she’s really fucking hot, and I really need a fuck.
And even if I did catch... feelings, it’s not like I can do anything about it. I’m the President of the United States, dammit. I have actual work I have to do. I don’t have time for dates or cute nights in together.
No, if there’s one thing that’s clear it’s that I’m in control. And I am deciding that I don’t have feelings for Veronica.
Veronica
Veronica
What is a girl supposed to wear when she’s about to negotiate with the President of the United States?
And how is she supposed to accessorize when she’s pretending to be his fiancée in an elaborate scheme to protect his reputation and preserve his political administration?
As it turns out, there isn’t actually much choice.
My belongings still haven’t been dropped off at the White House yet, so I have very little to work with. To my horror, for a few terrible moments I’m certain that I’m going to be stuck inside my purple dress all evening.
I don’t have to change clothes, of course. But a part of me needs to. Like they’re armor that can protect me from all of this.
“It’s no use,” I complain, shooting Jackson a look of displeasure. “There’s nothing to wear here. If you would just let me go home and get my things-”
“Ma’am,” he says, pointing to a wardrobe. “Have you tried looking in there?”
“What is it?”
Jackson simply gestures once more.
Begrudgingly,