At the Pleasure of the President (The Perfect Gentlemen 5)

“I shouldn’t be happy about that. But I am. Does that make me a terrible person?”

“It would if she had feelings for me.” Zack needed Elizabeth to understand that he and Joy hadn’t had any sort of normal marriage. “I’ve talked to her about you. She knows I’m here today asking if you’ll see me after the election. She’s the one who told me to order the vodka gimlet for you. She said it always puts you in a better mood.”

Elizabeth laughed, the sound magical to him. She was the single most radiant woman he’d ever met.

“Well, she knows me.” Elizabeth shook her head, but she wore a wry smile. “This is surreal. This is crazy! I had no idea you felt this way…”

“Is that a yes? I know we should probably wait a while, but I don’t want to. I want to finish out this campaign and get on with my life.”

“By going on a date with me?” Her tone told him she was wowed by that notion. “Yes! But you should know, Senator Hayes, that I’m a lady. I require a man to be a gentleman.”

Hey, it was practically his nickname. “I have no problem opening car doors and holding your seat for you. You’ll find me exquisitely polite.”

“You already do all those things. I know how exceptionally well you take care of a woman in public. But that’s not what I meant. I’m definitely going to require you to be a gentleman in bed. A perfect one,” she insisted, and he wondered if she knew every word out of her mouth was heating his blood. “And I don’t mean polite, Zack. Underneath all that civility, I know there’s a bad boy. I want that part of you—and all the others you keep hidden—to myself.”

His groin tightened and he was even more glad he’d reserved a private dining room. “I want to kiss you.”

“I want that, too,” she admitted breathlessly. “But not here and not now. Not with Joy and the cloud of the election hanging over our heads. I want it to be special. I want to know when we kiss for the first time that we don’t ever have to stop again.”

“Agreed. Where would you like to go on our first date? I say we steal Gabe’s plane and head to Paris. I’ll get a room with a view because you probably won’t get out much.”

He’d meant to go slow, to ease her into a relationship, but she’d just hit the gas and he didn’t have any intention of pumping the brakes, not when it meant he could have her—and soon. He wasn’t a man given to impatience, but then he’d never craved anyone the way he did Elizabeth.

“Paris sounds lovely, but I’ll be happy with the view from my side of your bed.” She gave him the flirtiest grin he’d ever seen.

He’d suspected that, under her gracious charm, she would be sexy and sassy. No playing coy games. Elizabeth wasn’t girlish, after all. She was pure woman, and he suspected she would take him on the ride of his life—one that would last for the rest of his days.

Finally, he had no doubt that he and Elizabeth were perfect for each other. She would make all the difference in his life because now he would have more than his ambitions. He would have his friends near and his soul mate beside him.

Reassurance and contentment wrapped a warm hand around his heart and cradled his soul. Suddenly not being the most powerful man in the world seemed pretty damn sweet.

He sat back and repositioned his napkin in his lap as the waiter appeared on cue to take their order. He couldn’t stop smiling. Despite the decades and the dramas, he felt like a dumbass kid again—this time, one with the world open to him.

Tonight, he could give his stump speech with perfect confidence. He would say and do all the right things. Shake hands, kiss babies—and it wouldn’t do a damn thing to win him the election. In a few more days, he would be free. Then Elizabeth would be all his.

He sat back and stared at her, barely holding in a smile. She did the same, her gaze eating him up from under her long lashes as she “accidentally” bumped his foot under the table. Life was good. The promise of tomorrow was right in front of him, so he was content to simply be near her—for now.

* * * *

Later that night

Liz stood numbly in the middle of the nondescript hallway of the hospital, unable to move. Hell, she could barely breathe. She kept replaying the sound of gunshots in her head.

“Ms. Matthews? You’re Senator Hayes’s media consultant. Do you have any update on his wife’s condition?” a reporter she vaguely recognized asked. “Is she expected to live?”

Someone pressed a microphone in Liz’s face. The lights glared too brightly. She blinked and froze.

God, she made a living responding to the press on Zack’s behalf, and she was damn good at her job. But right now, she was dumbfounded. She could hardly focus on the question, much less a coherent answer. All she could manage was an endless looping replay of Joy falling from her chair, her body limp, blood splattering everywhere.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” a deep voice admonished.

Connor Sparks moved in, and suddenly the camera was out of her face.

She caught a glimpse of men in black suits swarming the area, their eyes mirrored by identical aviator sunglasses, despite the fact that night had already fallen.

The Secret Service agents hustled the film crew out in seconds. Liz watched, processing in slow motion.

Had it really been mere hours ago that she’d sat in a restaurant with Zack, planning their future?

Connor turned to her. “Are you all right?”

God, he had blood on his shirt. She recoiled, even as she knew she had to get it together.

“Where’s Zack?” The question slipped out, then she shook her head. She shouldn’t ask about him first. “And what about Joy? Is she out of surgery?”

Joy wasn’t dead. She was alive. She had to be. The paramedics had gotten her to the hospital within minutes. Liz hadn’t seen them move her, but she’d seen the mob of first responders on the stage working to save the woman’s life.

Connor’s face went blank. “No one’s told you?”

Her stomach took a dive. “Told me?”

“Liz! Liz!” a familiar feminine voice called out.

Augustine. Her dear friend stood at the end of the hallway, held back from entering by security guards.

God, she needed Gus.

“Let her through,” Liz implored the uniformed sentries. “Please.”

They didn’t move.

“Let her through.” At Connor’s command, the guards parted like the Red Sea for Moses.

Immediately, Gus rushed down the hall, for once looking less than perfect. Her usually impeccable caramel hair was in a haphazard ponytail. Normally, she was dressed to the nines. Tonight, she’d thrown on ripped jeans and a simple white T-shirt.

“I caught a friend’s private jet and got here as fast as I could,” Gus said in a rush. “Oh, god, Connor. Tell me it isn’t true. Moments ago, the media said…they said she’s gone. Joy’s gone.”

A shocked sob stuck in Liz’s throat as she whirled to Connor. Since he’d just left Zack’s side, he would know. But no, it couldn’t be true…

Maybe they were deceiving the press. That made sense. They didn’t want anyone to know that Joy was okay. Because she had to be alive. Joy was sweet and kind. God, she’d had tea with the woman this evening before Zack had taken the stage. That woman couldn’t be dead.

“Joy died on the operating table. Single gunshot to the heart.” Connor’s tone was softer than she could ever remember hearing it. He put a bracing hand on Gus’s shoulder. “Zack… They had to sedate him. Liz, I know this isn’t fair, but someone has to make a statement. It can’t be Zack. I can’t do it. I’ve already been filmed too much tonight. Roman is…”

“Oh, god.” Tears flowed down Gus’s face. “Roman can’t do it. I will.”

But this wasn’t Gus’s job.

“No.” Liz shook her head. “I’ll do it. I just need a couple of moments to think this through.”

Because what she said next would be important. It would be everything.

Connor stared down at her. ?

??Are you sure? Liz, do you understand what’s happened?”

He wasn’t asking if she understood that Joy had been murdered. He wasn’t ensuring she grasped the fact that someone had attempted to assassinate Zack and offed his wife instead. He wanted to make sure she knew full well that one act of violence had shifted the balance of power forever.

She glanced over at the large-screen TV in the waiting room. It was filled edge to edge with the shocking moments following the shooting. Yes, the footage showed panicked people scurrying for safety. But in the middle of the stage—and plastered across every TV in America—the video played something real, something heartbreaking and visceral.

It displayed Zack Hayes holding his dying wife, his face a mask of shock and anguish. It revealed him in his most human moments.