The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,67

there. “Um, no.”

She purses her lips in thought. “You’re clearly doing something different. You look radiant.”

“Thank you,” I reply. I’m really not sure what she’s talking about, but I’ll take the compliment.

Amber makes an undignified snort from beside us as if she’s just thought of a really funny joke. “Are you pregnant?”

I nearly spit out my water. “What?”

“Some women get a glow when they’re pregnant,” Amber says, smiling in a way that doesn’t look pleasant. “It would explain why you look so happy. And why you and David are rushing into this engagement.”

My stomach drops. Does she know something?

“We’ve known each other for years,” I say, trying not to let any emotion show on my face. “What’s it to you?”

“Sure, you’ve known each other for years,” she replies. “But I bet you couldn’t wait for him to propose to you. I bet you just loved the idea of tying down the President.”

“That’s not true.” I’m just glad she doesn’t actually know anything. She’s just trying to press my buttons. “David and I are happy together.”

“Are you really?” Amber almost snarls. She has a problem with me. A big problem. “That’s so crazy. I really did think that the President had…”

I freeze, daring her to continue. “Had?”

“Well, had a bit more class.” Amber laughs, but the sound is incredibly hollow. “Imagine the President of the United States being married to the daughter of a small business owner.”

There’s a long silence while I debate on whether to flip the table. Wow. Amber sure has brought her claws this morning. What, did she wake up on the wrong side of the bed?

“Well, anyway,” Rosalie says loudly, talking over us both in an attempt to cut the spat short. “You’re looking great, Veronica. Very chic.”

Amber narrows her eyes. She just won’t let go. “Has David bought you something big and shiny? I’ll bet that’s why you’re so perky.”

I don’t get what’s up with this girl. From day one, she’s had some kind of weird vendetta against me.

Well, I don’t have to take it. If she were in my shoes, Lacey would have slapped this woman by now.

But violence has never been my method of choice.

Instead, I smile curtly at her. “No, Amber. David doesn’t have to buy me ridiculously expensive jewelry to keep me around. We actually like each other.” I lean closer to her, inspecting her hand. “Oh? Is that a new ring you’re wearing?”

It’s subtle, but my words hit her like an arrow. Sniffing indignantly, she rises to her feet and storms away from our lunch table.

I grin, pleased with my victory. If anything, that’ll get her off my back for a while.

“Veronica, darling...” Rosalie looks awkward beside me. “I know Amber is difficult, but that was perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

“Perhaps a bit uncalled for,” she finishes. “Amber is very sensitive about her marriage.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, maybe she shouldn’t try to poke holes in other people’s relationships then.”

I don’t feel particularly guilty about the affair. Even when David brings it up in bed that night, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

“Veronica, Amber’s husband is an important man,” David replies. “And her sister is a Senator. We want to stay in their good books.”

“She certainly wasn’t trying to stay in my good books,” I reply, frowning. “She hasn’t liked me since we met.”

“She hasn’t?”

“No. She’s been rude. There’s nothing wrong with calling someone out for talking their mouth off.”

David sighs. “Not for ordinary people, Veronica. But we are not ordinary.” He pulls me closer. I love the sight of him without a shirt. “I’m the President. And you’re the First Lady.”

“So we should let people walk all over us?”

“We should be diplomatic in how we handle things.”

“I am diplomatic,” I protest.

“Amber stormed out of there, Veronica. And straight into the arms of her husband. He’s not pleased.”

I shake my head. “Well, maybe he should stick his wife in a manners class. She’s the one that needs it, not me.”

But David isn’t messing around. He’s entirely serious. “Please, Veronica. Listen to me.”

“It’s hard to listen to you when you look that good naked,” I tell him.

He laughs, but he doesn’t let it go. “For the sake of my reputation, Veronica… let it go. Apologize to Amber.”

I nearly roll out of bed in shock. “Apologize? To her?”

“It’s the easiest way to resolve this. And the best for our public image.”

I fold my arms. “There’s no way I’m saying sorry. She started it, David.”

“I know,” he says, “but this isn’t about that. This is about controlling