The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,47

Waters. The suspect appears to have attacked Waters in the park following an evening of dinner she’d attended with the President.”

Images of the President and me fill the screen. It’s the pictures that the press took of us at dinner. The sight of the President’s hand on my leg makes me flush ever so slightly, even though this really isn’t the time. The memory of his fingers on my inner thigh…

“We now have President Shepard to make a comment.”

And then David’s face appears on the screen. I’d forgotten how absurdly photogenic he is. The cameras seem to capture all of his best features. I’m looking at the David Shepard that the public sees: tousled dark curls, high cheekbones, serious eyes. A voice that makes you believe that everything is going to be okay.

The man I’d seen earlier, angry and coldly commanding, can’t be seen anywhere.

“Earlier this evening, a violent attack was made on my fiancée. Fortunately, nobody was harmed and Veronica is safely resting at home. I’d like to thank everyone involved for handling this so swiftly.” He nods, never breaking eye contact with the camera.

I stare at that cool, composed look. If the President has such a handle on the situation, surely I should be able to go outside. It’s not like I’m asking to go hang out on a cliff’s edge. The White House grounds are one of the safest places in the world.

“I want to go out,” I repeat again.

“Didn’t you hear the President?” David is standing in the doorway, his eyes on his own TV self. “His fiancée should be safely resting at home, Veronica.”

The Secret Service members stand to attention. “Sir.”

“Thank you for keeping such a good watch on her, gentlemen,” the President says. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for you all to wait outside. Just for now.”

Peters looks uncertain. “Sir, one of us could remain in the room....”

“I’ll handle things,” the President assures him flatly. Is there also a hint of annoyance in his voice? “I believe I handled things rather capably in the park. I didn’t see anyone else following Miss Waters.”

There’s an awkward pause.

“I slipped out of the bathroom window,” I explain. “They couldn’t have known.”

“I’m aware,” the President replies. “I’ll be dealing with you later.”

My cheeks burn red, tinged by embarrassment. Yet it’s the President that should be embarrassed. If he had to ‘deal with’ me now, he’d have to explain why I ran out of the window in the first place. What he’d done to me.

The Secret Service clears out. As refreshing as it is to have a room less crowded, I think I’d rather take a few days of their loitering over the strange silence that descends over us when we’re alone.

“David,” I say eventually. “Is this necessary? They won’t even let me leave my room. On your orders, apparently.”

The relaxed, comforting persona from the TV seems to have been a ruse. It’s clear there’s still a lot of fury bubbling over his surface. His knuckles are white, squeezed together like he’s trying to hold onto his cool.

“Somebody tried to kill you tonight, Veronica,” he says. His eyes are still on the TV, not meeting mine. It’s not even on anything interesting now, only the commercial breaks. “It’s convenient that you didn’t mention your boyfriend is unstable.”

“He’s not unstable,” I protest, but the words sound hollow even as I say them. “Trevor… I could never have believed he’d do something like this.”

“You didn’t tell him what was going on?”

“He wouldn’t let me.” I narrow my eyes at him. Is he trying to say this is my fault? Is he blaming me just like I blame myself? “As soon as he heard his girlfriend was engaged to the President, I think he must have taken it pretty badly. Are you saying you’d be entirely reasonable in the same situation?”

“I don’t do girlfriends,” he says coldly. “But I wouldn’t lose control like that. Not ever. I wouldn’t attack anyone unprovoked.”

When we’d gone for dinner this evening… there’d been a kind of warmth between us. We had been two people trapped in an insane, weird situation.

But now David won’t even look at me.

“You were irresponsible and rash climbing out of the window unattended,” he continues. “It’s clear that you can’t be left to your own devices.”

“You drove me to it,” I shoot back. “You were- you made me-” My whole body feels hot and tingly and shameful at the memory. At the desire that ached so acutely. The desire he’d somehow