“You’re a high maintenance one, aren’t you?” he laughs, running his fingers down the length of his tie. Pushing his chair back, he goes up to his feet and walks around the table, closing the distance between him and I. Sliding one hand inside his jacket, it comes back out holding a small square box. “There you go,” he says, popping the box open.
I raise both eyebrows as my eyes fall over the biggest diamond ring I’ve ever seen. The diamond alone is probably worth a few hundred thousand dollars, for Christ’s sake.
“Not that you asked, but the answer is yes,” I grin, offering him my hand. Holding it gently, he slides the ring on my finger and I hold my breath as I feel the touch of his skin on mine. His hand is big and smooth, and I start imagining what else he has that’s big and smooth… Ahem, anyway. Jesus.
“Do I get to keep it?” I ask Austin while, at the same time, I try to pull my mind out of the gutter.
“Sure,” he laughs. He could give two shits about this ring, and instead says, “You’ll want a memento.”
“A memento, right,” I whisper, looking at the ring. The thing is huge and gaudy, completely inelegant, but so what? I can just sell it once I’m done with Austin. Besides, the secret deal we’ve cut inside this room is also an inelegant one, but it’s not like that matters.
“Welcome to your new life, Ashley,” Austin says with a smile, and I can’t help but smile back at him, my lips reacting before I can stop them.
A new life, huh? Doesn’t sound that bad.
Good thing it’s not real.
Austin
I'm standing in a small theater in the White House's West Wing—the Press Briefing room. Half a dozen rows of chairs are filled with eager reporters, each staring at me, waiting for me to begin the press conference.
This is it.
This is the moment I go out and lie in front of the country.
I’m gonna look into the cameras and lie to 320 million Americans.
Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t believe I’m having these qualms right now, you know?
I mean, my administration doesn’t have any major scandals or anything. We’ve run a tight campaign. We didn’t do anything fucking crazy.
It’s the damned media. They don’t care who fucking wins, ya know? They just want to pull down and tear down whoever is in charge. It sells newspapers or something. So they fixate on the fact that I’m a young, eligible bachelor. They pinpoint that and they start trying to destroy me. Doesn’t matter what party I am. Doesn’t matter what I believe in.
And now I’m gonna lie to them. I have to. It’s the only way I can fend the media off long enough to actually help the American people.
I'm standing at the podium, and I look over at Tracy, who's standing off to the side of the room. She gives me a nod, and that's my cue to begin. I take a deep breath, straighten my tie, smooth the lapels of my suit jacket, and begin.
"Thank you all for joining me here today," I say. "I think we can all agree that the media has been trying to unfairly portray me in a negative light."
I give this opener and look around at the crowd. I hear hushed murmurs ripple across the rows of reporters.
I continue, "Today, I'd like to address the 'President Player' headlines."
"Excuse me, Mr. Bain, what is your relationship to South Korean ambassador, Jia Park?" one pudgy reporter blurts out, interrupting my train of thought.
I do my best to brush him off. "I'm getting to that," I say. "I would like to announce a new trade agreement between the United States and South Korea."
I look around the room. Reporters are exchanging confused glances with one another.
I continue, "I'm working very closely to hammer out the details of this trade with the South Korean ambassador. But one thing's for certain—we need to work together to meet these goals. United we stand—apart we fall. These salacious rumors need to stop."
"But Mr. Bain, what are you hiding? Why do you insist on keeping your personal life shrouded in mystery?" another reporter jumps in, shoving his microphone over the heads of the crowd.
"I've said this before, but I want to make it clear that my private life does not concern the public," I reply. "My focus is on the country and politics shouldn't be personal."
"But Mr. Bain, are the playboy rumors true?" another reporter asks.
A number of reporters jump out of their seats at this comment, all of them vying for my attention and calling out my name, their cameras and microphones raised.