The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,68

the situation.”

“No,” I push back. “This is giving crazy Amber all the control. She already treats me like dirt.”

We lie on the mattress in silence for a moment. David can’t really want me to do this.

Eventually, he strokes my hair in a peace offering. “Veronica… please. For me.”

I really don’t understand. “You really think this is that important?”

“Letting drama like this grow only makes it spread,” he says. “And when it spreads… it goes out of control. That’s not something I care for.”

Again with the control. I thought that was something we were past when he came to visit me in Cali. I really thought that David had lost control because of me. That he’d maybe even decided to give it up.

That clearly isn’t true.

“You’ll apologise tomorrow?” David asks again, his hand on my knee.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Veronica.” He’s using his hardass Mr President voice. It’s intimidating, but… kinda hot. I have to admit it.

“Fine,” I say, done with this conversation. “I’ll see Amber tomorrow.”

“That’s my good girl,” David answers, grinning. “Now… come here and kiss me.”

Thankfully, ‘the next day’ means that I don’t have to think about doing it the next morning. Like he’s some kind of psychic - or maybe just a control freak - David has left my itinerary for this morning remarkably free.

I’m eating breakfast in one of the big dining rooms when I see a familiar face approach my table.

“Mr Andrews,” I say, smiling up at him. “It’s been a while.”

My old boss… for all of half a day. Our meeting feels like years and years ago now, even if it’s really not so long at all. He’s not looking as immaculate as he did the last time I saw him.

“Veronica, sweetie,” he says, putting a hand on my arm. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks.” I motion at the chair next to me. “Do we have something to discuss?”

Andrews and David are always holed up together, working on the administration’s public image. If he’s come to see me… is there something I need to know about?

“Oh, nothing serious,” he says, smiling broadly as he takes the seat.

His smile is just as practiced as David’s, but unlike the President’s, something about it feels forced. When David smiles, he lights up the whole room. Andrews doesn’t have that ability.

“Has David convinced you to lecture me?” I ask.

“Lecture you? About what?”

“Amber. As in, Amber the wife of Senator Jaden. She’s really pissed off at me.” I make a face.

Andrews tilts his head. “Did you do something to her?”

“She was talking trash about me,” I explain. “I stopped her. But David has informed me that I’m not allowed to have a spine. It doesn’t look good for him politically.”

I’m expecting Andrews to give me a lecture too. He is the Press Secretary, after all. He might be the most knowledgeable person about how important it is to get someone’s good opinion.

But instead, he shakes his head and shoots me a look of sympathy. “David Shepard is a control freak. I’m not surprised he’d ask you to apologize.”

My jaw nearly drops to the floor. “What, really? You’re on my side?”

“The man is a born politician,” Andrews agrees. His hand is still on my arm, his fingers patting my shoulder blade. “When it comes to control, he’s obsessed with having things his way. And, if you don’t mind me saying, you’ve really thrown a spanner in the works.”

“You think?”

“You’re unpredictable, Veronica,” he laughs deeply. “David is probably worried that you’ll end up wrestling with Amber on live TV or something. Or trash-talking her to the press.”

“I would never-”

“Oh, I know that. And you know that. David probably knows it too. But he can’t stand knowing there’s a possibility you might get in the way of his control-freak plans. That you might step a toe out of line.”

“So why is he asking me to apologize?”

“So he knows that you can be controlled.” Andrews taps a finger on the side of his head.

It makes sense, but I don’t like it. Would David really do that to me? Would he make such a big fuss about something like this just to prove a point?

But… it could be true. I’ve seen how David behaves in front of the cameras. He’s got the acting skills of a professional, as cool as a cucumber. He knows how to manipulate people. To get them to feel the way he wants.

That’s why he makes such a good president.

A tiny seed of resentment threatens to sprout inside of me. Whatever has