Billionaire Baby Daddy

I bowed my head toward him, reducing our eye contact. I wondered if he could tell that something was afoot—that I was being controlled, in a way. I wondered if he could smell it on me: the betrayal.

Even as I stood before the president, listening to the silence between us, I could feel Jason’s hand around my throat, forcing me to say everything I was saying. I’d never been in this position before: this position in which I was meant to be eternally at the mercy of someone else—in which I gave up my position of power so that another person could take over.

“I’m sorry to hear this, Amanda,” he said again. He bowed his head, bringing his fingers together. “Please. Send Jason into the office so that I can debrief him for his role.”

I nodded, spinning back around. I felt like I had just taken a bullet in the war, that I was being sent back to the hospital even while the war raged on. I exited the beautiful office, knowing that I wouldn’t spend much time there anymore.

Dimitri, on the outside of the Oval Office, sniffed at me as I exited. “How did it go in there?” he asked me gruffly.

I knew he thought I’d just fucked Xavier, that I was “that kind of woman” now.

Although, I suppose, I was.

I flung my head toward him and whispered harshly in his face. “Don’t you dare fuck with me.”

And then I walked back down the hallway, feeling enraged. I could feel Dimitri’s eyes on me. I felt terrible, truly. I knew that beyond anything else, Dimitri was one of the only people I could trust in the White House. He was a good ally, especially in the face of Jason’s terror over me. However, I felt too proud in these moments to do anything but spew hatred and anger toward him.

I was on the verge of a breakdown.

I sauntered back into the room that was spewing with such activity. The campaign trail was hot, and we were in the pit of the fire. I turned toward Jason, wanting to spit on him in that moment. His eyes met with mine, and there was humor lurking beyond there—like this was all some big, made-up joke.

“He wants to see you,” I whispered, gesturing with my head to the left, toward the Oval Office.

Jason stood, pulling at his shirt and subsequently yanking it from his belt once more. He sniffed and leaned toward me, kissing me on the cheek. “I knew you’d do the right thing,” he whispered, winking at me.

And then he walked down the hallway, toward the Oval Office, with such haughtiness. I watched as Dimitri opened the Oval Office door for him, looking confused. Dimitri turned toward me, his eyes dark, searching.

But I spun back toward my desk, nearly tripping on the chair of one of my employees. I righted myself, feeling my head spinning. I yelled at the man before me: “GET BACK TO WORK!” even as he began to kneel down and help me to my feet. I felt the anger growing in a million different ways and I wouldn’t allow anyone to assist me. I had to destroy this on my own.

I would get back to the top. I just didn’t know how, yet. I didn’t know how.

Chapter Four

I finished the remainder of the day answering emails, barking the occasional order. It was clear that Jason would eventually make the announcement that he was above me soon. But I didn’t want to make the announcement yet. I wanted to dwell in the remainder of my high status before everything came crashing down.

I ended my day rather early, however, wanting to get out of there. Again, I brought my cardigan around my body and scurried away from the White House—the very home in which I’d felt so sure of myself, just weeks before. When I’d interviewed with Xavier. When I’d wanted him, all the while knowing that I could never, in a million years, have him.

A million years had happened since then, of course.

I hailed a taxi and collapsed into it, still thinking about Jason. I hated that after a few days of thinking only about love, I was now rooted in the comprehension of hatred. I just wanted revenge on this man. I wanted to find my way through his terror and come out on top. But I didn’t know how.

As we zoomed away from the White House, I had a sudden idea. I called up to the taxi driver. “Sir? Could we stop at the monuments? I—I want to take a walk.” I swallowed. I hadn’t taken time to myself like this in years and years: time in which I was meant to reflect, to enjoy my life. In this moment of sheer rage, I knew I needed to take a moment to appreciate everything.

The taxi stopped at the outset of the great park. I paid him extra to wait for me, and I bounced into the open air. It was September, and summer was filtering away from us. I could smell the winter in the air. For some reason, I could taste Christmas cookies; I could imagine the holiday season.

I neared the Washington Monument then, shoving my hands into my pockets. I sighed before it, remembering that eternally, this monument gave me such promise. Now, it simply gave me peace from all the sadness lurking in my mind. The great spear reflected across the water, signifying all the history pulsing b

eneath the surface of this Washington D.C. earth.

I remembered that in the past, when I’d faltered—if only for a moment—I’d been able to turn to my roving brain in order to come up with a plan. But there, in front of the Washington Monument, I couldn’t feel anything in my mind but despair. I reached into my pocket and brought out a quarter. Washington’s face glinted at me, but nothing lurked beneath his eyes. I tossed the coin into the water, feeling at a loss for my future.

I turned back and ran toward the taxi, feeling such desire in my soul. For something. For what? I needed the president to love me, to want me. And in some ways, I knew he did. But I needed so much more, as well.

It was like I was meant to choose between evil and good. It was like choosing between my wants and needs. It was like I was pressed against the wall without any air pulling into my lungs, just grasping and gasping.

“Take me home,” I whispered to the taxi driver as I lurched into the great vehicle, feeling my body quivering. “Take me home.”

The following days at the office seemed to pass without notice. I began to get used to the feeling of being under someone’s thumb—something that I never thought I would think, truly. But I passed by Jason’s desk every day and began to grow used to his leering smile; I began to understand that he was just a man utilizing me as a pawn. This was something that had been done all throughout history, without fail. I was sure that George Washington himself had even used people as pawns in the past. It was a matter of course on your way to the top.