Mr. President

“Banging an intern,” Reese Dawns snorts, repeating my words under her breath and chuckling after me. Then, noticing that everyone is looking at her, she takes one clenched hand to her mouth and clears her throat, pretending she didn’t say a word.

I’m about to say another joke when the door to the meeting room swings open abruptly and President Bain steps through. He walks toward his seat at the head of the table, adjusting his cuff links as he goes.

“Glad to see you’re on board with this,” he tells me as he sits down, leaning back on his chair and grinning at me. What a smug asshole, not even a word of apology for coming in late. I guess that he’s more than used to doing what he wants, when he wants. Exactly the kind of man I’m used to luring into my traps, except this time, I’m part of the asshole’s team. I guess $50 million has helped hide my moral qualms out of sight.

“Tracy here was very persuasive,” I reply casually, offering him a cool stare. I don’t even bother with greeting him; if he thinks he’s above that, so am I.

“Good. It looks like she made the right choice with you,” he continues, talking to me as if we’re the only two people in the room. He’s looking me in the eyes, but I can tell that, somehow, the first thing he did when he entered the room was check me out. Not that I can blame him; I did exactly the same thing.

The moment he entered the room my eyes were drawn to him. To start with, it’s not everyday I get to see the President of the United States up close. Sure, I’m going to be playing a key role, and that means I’ll have to spend some time with him … but first impressions are always first impressions. And, hell, I gotta give it to him; he looks even better in the flesh than on TV.

No, I’m not changing my opinion. All I’m saying is that, even though he might be an egotistical asshole, he has the kind of looks capable of provoking a very physical reaction in a woman. Do I need to explain that one? I hope not.

Tailored suit, dominant posture, and arrogance as the cherry on top of the cake; Austin knows people think he’s the shit, and he behaves like it. Of course, it also helps that he’s extremely handsome. Not only is he the youngest President in the history of the United States, he’s probably the most ripped one. Seriously, he wouldn’t look out of place in a movie set, one where guys hang around shirtless while kicking the shit out of each other. Makes me wonder—did he win the elections because of his know-how, or because he looks good? No need to answer this one.

“So, you’ve been briefed on what’s expected of you, right?” he asks me, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel a pleasant warmness spreading through my body as I hold his gaze; running my tongue between my lips, I give him a quick nod.

“Yes, I have.”

“Good,” he smiles, leaning back and crossing his legs. “We’ll keep this up for a year. Then you’ll be able to end our fake engagement by claiming I’m just too devoted to the country.”

“How noble of you,” I whisper, rolling my eyes and drumming my fingers on the table. “But one year? I was thinking of something more short-term.”

“No. Anything shorter than that and it won’t work. The public needs time to accept the President’s new image,” Tracy cuts in, her smart eyes going from me to Austin. “It’ll have to be one year.”

“If it’s going to be like that, I’m going to need a bonus. An extra $25 million will do it,” I say in a heartbeat. Tracy is about to protest the figure I’ve just thrown, but Austin doesn’t give her enough time for her to do so.

“Deal.”

“Also, if there’s any hint of a scandal with another woman… I’ll walk on the deal. And I’ll still expect to be paid.”

“Surely you’re not saying that --”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I shoot back, cutting Austin short. “No other women while our deal stands.”

“Jesus,” Austin whispers, pursing his lips and exhaling sharply. “I guess you’re right, though. The risk just isn’t worth it.” Looking at me for a moment of silence, he then opens up into a grin. “We have a deal then.”

“Good. Now, where’s my ring?” I grin back at him, raising my hand and waving my fingers at him. “A fiancée needs a ring. An expensive one.”

“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.

7