I raised my eyebrow. I didn’t want to say anything else.
“All right. I have another request for you. Another assignment, shall we say. You do work for me now, after all.”
I tipped my head to the right. “Sure,” I murmured. I felt the words, so scratchy, coming from my throat.
“I need a private session with the president. I need you to get it for me.”
I raised my eyebrow, then. “I thought you had that authority already?” I didn’t mean this as an insult, you must understand. I truly didn’t comprehend that perhaps things weren’t going as Jason had planned in his relationship with the president.
He grunted. “Ah, yes. Well. You and the president, as those little photographs allow us to understand, have an incredible relationship. When I can’t meet with the president, you can arrange it. Is that clear?”
I nodded, swallowing. Was he—was he actually the campaign manager? I realized I had still been doing most of the responsibilities. Perhaps the president had given him a few more duties; but perhaps the president hadn’t turned to him for anything more. Perhaps their relations were strained.
I could hardly think. I reared up on my seat, turning toward him once more. “So. This meeting—it’s over?” His face broke into a sort of sad, evil smile. I suddenly realized that this man had taken advantage of me in nearly every way possible. He’d tried to ruin my life, and everything still wasn’t working so well for him. He grinned, but I saw the instability in his smile. His teeth were brown.
I got a bit daring, then, just as I placed my hand on the handle of the vehicle. “So you’re—you’re planning on meeting with the president for what reason, exactly?” I asked him, spinning my head around once more. I tapped my heel against the plastic on the side of the car.
But his face broke out into an angry grin then. He shook his head. “Ah, no. You won’t fucking ask me questions like that.” He reared up, as well, and leered toward me. “You don’t have the right to ask me things like that. I know it.”
I bowed my head, feeling so angry, so horrified. I suddenly became certain that he only wanted this meeting so that he could hang the photos over Xavier’s head. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want Xavier to know that I was being manipulated. Surely he would think that I was stronger than that. But of course, I wasn’t.
I bit my lip and pushed myself from the car, out into the street. I spun around and watched the limousine speed away. I felt my sanity dipping away as it fled.
I didn’t know how long I would be this puppet. I felt like I was going to be strung along forever. I turned back toward my apartment. When I reached the table, I poured myself the largest glass of wine of my life. I had to drink away my sorrows. I had to fall away from this existence. Perhaps in the light of the morning, I would discover another realm of possibility. I could understand what to do.
Chapter Six
The next day, I sat at my desk, across the churning room from Jason. I watched as Xavier walked toward him and leaned down, whispering something to him over the chaos. Jason nodded curtly and turned back toward his computer. It was so rare that I saw them talk; I wasn’t sure what was going on.
But then, Xavier turned toward me. His eyes were bright. I could feel him analyzing every single cell of my body. I felt naked in front of him. I licked my lips and turned back toward my computer, trying to find something to think about, something beyond my sheer infatuation with the President of the United States.
But then, his shadow appeared before me. I looked up, acting surprised. My voice came out so slowly. “Hello, Mr. President.” I could hardly hear myself.
“Amanda,” he said. His face looked so open. “I just wanted to check in with you about—about the other day.”
A bit spastically, I waved my hands in front of my face. “No, no. Mr. President. It’s fine. I’m just—I’m a mess right now. The campaign is going really well, but at the cost of my sanity, I’m afraid.” I gave him my surest smile—the smile that told him I had everything under control. But God, I didn’t.
He nodded. I wanted him to take my face in his hands; I longed for him to kiss me so deeply, in a manner that forced my knees to dip to the ground. I bit my lip, wishing him to both go away and stay.
Stay.
But he remained, for better or for worse. “Jason’s doing an okay job, isn’t he?”
I turned my head toward Jason, watching him as he spewed into a phone, his face red. “He grows angry easily,” I murmured, gesturing.
But Xavier placed his hand in the air, in a fist. “I suppose you must have passion in this business.”
The words hung between us like a cloud. I longed to tell him, then. I wanted to tell him that Jason was terrorizing me; that he was the only person who knew about our one-night stand. (Because, at the end of the day, what else was it? It was a one-night stand. It couldn’t be termed anything else.)
Suddenly, two Secret Service agents appeared on either side of the president. One whispered in Xavier’s ear. Xavier’s eyebrows rose, and he turned toward him, speaking loud enough for me to hear. “Well, did you tell her I’m working?”
My mind began to rush. Was he talking about his wife?
The Secret Service agent whispered in his ear once more. His voice was so low, I assumed it was in some sort of code.
“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,” Xavier stated then. His voice came gruffly from his throat. He casually rolled his eyes toward me, like we were sharing a secret joke.
I nodded, feeling my hair as it ruffled up against my neck. “I’ll see you later, Mr. President,” I murmured casually, watching him as he walked away. I felt nearly like swooning for a moment. God, this was all too much.