Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (75 page)

I was sure it had happened before.

I was sitting at my desk, riffling through
various memos, when I received the call. I grabbed the phone and sighed into
it, knowing that even he couldn’t make me feel strange this day. “Hello,
Jason.” I waited for my second in command to speak.

His voice was strained. “Listen, Amanda. I
need you to come into my office.”

I grew a bit haughty in these moments,
admittedly. “I’m sorry, Jason. That will have to wait. I have a phone meeting
with Atlanta in twenty minutes.”

But Jason was persistent. “No, Amanda.
This is very urgent. I need you to reschedule all of your phone calls for the
day. Get in here. Now.”

I raised my eyebrow, growing angry. I was
first in command; he was second. A solid second. But something in his voice
forced me to agree. I gathered a few of my papers, wondering what had gone
wrong. Perhaps some rating in Texas or Alaska had fallen. Something was always
happening somewhere. We couldn’t control a group of people bigger than
twenty-five.

As I tapped to Jason’s office, my mind
dwelled on a million other Xavier-related things. The touch of his hand on my
spine; the way his tongue had felt on my pussy, on my nipples. I bit my lip as
I walked, feeling so horny, even there at the office. I wondered if I could
just sweep off to his Oval Office, only for a moment—

I opened Jason’s office, and he stood up,
his eyes brimming with anger.

“What is it?” I asked him, raising my
eyebrow once more. I realized, in that moment, that I really didn’t like Jason.
He’d asked me out, and he hadn’t taken my refusal well. He was a sore loser as
both a potential partner and a second in command. “Make it quick. I still
didn’t cancel those phone interviews.”

Jason stepped forward. “I have a few
questions for you, Amanda.”

His voice was so harsh, forcing me into a
seat in front of his desk. I’d never sat there before; in fact, I’d never been
to his office before. I’d always assumed it was below my pay grade. One of
those big mouth bass singing fish sat on his desk with a big sign ‘HIT ME’ on
it.

“I’m sorry? You have questions for me?
Because I think the only questions we need to ask are to the voters,” I stated,
crossing my arms over my chest. His aggressiveness was outrageous.

Jason reached into the bottom drawer of
his desk and leafed out a manila envelope. He tapped the edge of it against his
lip. “What the hell is this about?” he asked. His voice was coy, almost
excited.

I was tired of playing his game. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about, obviously,” I said, smacking my hand on my lap.
“You won’t give me a single hint. Is it—I don’t know. Ratings from the week?”

He shook his head, his eyes glowing.
“Guess again.” His voice was brimming with laughter.

I shrugged once more. “Fuck. I don’t know.
A picture of your new laser hair chest removal?” I hated that the words came
out of my mouth, but there they were. I watched his flinch, but only for a
moment. Why didn’t this bother him more?

“All right. Give me the envelope,” I
stated, swinging my hand over the desk. I twitted my fingers a bit. “I’m tired
of playing your game.”

“Oh, no. I’m certain the entire federal
government will be tired of playing your game in time,” Jason said, his eyes
dark. “How’d you do it, Amanda? You sleep with the head boss? With everyone’s
fucking boss?”

I flung my body over the desk now, growing
so hot and angry. All thoughts of my supreme happiness from the previous
evening had fallen to the ground, and I now sat in a pit of rage. I grasped the
envelope out of his hand and I brought it toward my chest, huffing. My nose
flared. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Look at the goddamned pictures,” Jason
said haughtily. He wrapped his hand around his throat, feeling at a red rash
that was growing. Nerves, I thought.

I opened the envelope, noticing that my
hands were shaking. I hated that I was shaking in his presence. I cleared my
throat and I removed the pictures, one by one.

In my lap sat three photos. All of them
were of Xavier and I, making love throughout my apartment.

My heart sank. I felt the tears forming in
my eyes—tears of shock, tears of anger. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
One featured him behind me as I was positioned on all fours, on the table. A
look of supreme pleasure rested on my face, and my breasts were open, so wide
to the camera. In another, we were featured on the couch, my legs up around his
neck and his dick thrust deep inside of me. His mouth was open in fits of
pleasure. In another, I was straddling him, placing his dick in my mouth.

I brought my earnest, angry face toward
Jason. “Who gave these to you,” I rasped. I felt my heart beating so fast in my
chest. “Where the fuck did these come from?”

POWER #2

Chapter
1

Jason, in a supreme, suave motion, swept
the photos back into a folder, looking pleased with himself. I felt a single
tear rushing down my cheeks as I gaped at him. The silence emanated between us.

He raised his eyebrow. “I can assure you
that I’ve kept these photos to myself.” His ruffled shirt was tucked into his
pants half-heartedly, like he’d been too excited about proving to me that he
was above me, that he had my number—too excited to ever tuck in his shirt
appropriately.

“Why did you keep them?
You could ruin me. You could ruin him,” I whispered.

Jason scoffed. “Of course. And you think I
want that? To completely ruin you?” He cackled, tossing his head back. There
was something so slimy about his laugh—something that didn’t make me so
fearful. Rather, it made me want to cover my nose, like he was something
foul-smelling that had been stuffed down my throat.

I wasn’t sure how to argue with him—how to
reason with him. I cleared my throat. “Then what’s your angle, here?” I asked
him, gesturing toward the folder. “Why would you come to me with these photos?”
The images were still burned in my head: the images of me on that table, of his
body over mine. I shivered. The worst thing that could ever happen had
happened: I’d had an affair with the president and I’d been caught on camera.

“You mean—why did I place cameras in your
apartment to catch this sure, brimming affair between you and the president?”
he asked me. He cackled once more, leaning over his desk. I could smell his
breath.

“I could turn you in—“ I
began, so angry. “I could turn you in for—for breaking and entering—“

He laughed again, sniffing. “You really
are hilarious,” he cackled. “Brains, humor, and beauty. No wonder the president
wanted to fuck your brains out.”

I felt like punching him, then. I righted
myself, no longer feeling like a victim. I wanted to kick this guy’s ass. “If
you wanted to verbally abuse me with these photos, then have at me and let me
get the fuck out of here,” I said, my mind rushing. I knew that he had done
this only because I hadn’t agreed to go on a date with him; I knew that he’d
done this only because I had power over him. He wasn’t comfortable with it. He
was rogue.

But he shook his head, ruffling his hand
over his chin. “No, no. I want so much more than that. Sure, a jab here and
there. But I think that I can use you, Amanda. And here, all this time, you
thought that you could use me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I
asked him, my breath coming hot. I’d thought that Jason was a good worker; I’d
actually been considering him for a promotion. I wanted to take him up with me.
Xavier had stated that I would eternally have a job at the White House. And
thus, I wanted to take all my people with me, to the top.

He leaned still closer to me. “I’m going
to use you, Amanda. I’m going to use you better than this cunt president we
have used you. I’m going to force you to take me to the top—to even push me
ahead of you. You have the president under your thumb, so to speak. And I’m the
only one who knows about it.”

My anger grew in me at an alarming rate. I
felt myself push my hands forward and grab the folder from his hands. I brought
those terrible photos into the light and I started to rip at them voraciously,
feeling their vitality splinter away in my hands. I wanted to scream out, and I
felt my throat so hot, so raspy. “Goddamn you,” I called to him.

This wouldn’t be the way he got anywhere.
I could destroy these photos. I wouldn’t let him kick me to the bottom—not
after all that I’d been through. I’d worked my way to the top for a purpose. I
hadn’t worked so far just for fine dinners with the president, for raucous
flings on my kitchen table with the most powerful man in the world. I couldn’t
help what I felt for that man, but this had nothing to do with my need and
desire for power.

I ripped and tore at the photos, flinging
them to the trash can. I brought my hand into my purse and brought out a small
matchbook. With my eyes on Jason, I snapped the match over the match box and
watched the light spring up into the air. I dropped it into the fire, over the
gleaming photos. Together, for only a moment, we watched the fire begin.

But Jason had begun to laugh once more. I
looked up toward him and watched how the fire flickered in his eyes. His teeth
were so white, so bright. I could see his tongue lolling around in his mouth.

I stood there, stupidly, with the fire
still burning between us. It had eaten the paper, and it had begun to char the
interior tin. I held my hands over my stomach and blinked at him for several moments.

Finally, he spoke. He leaned against his
hands, over the desk, and coughed. “Darling, darling. If you thought I didn’t
have these digitally backed up, you’re a lot stupider than I initially
assumed.”

My heart burned.

I realized how rash, how dumb I’d been. I
was usually so certain of each of my actions, but I’d lost my head in the
previous few weeks. I swallowed as he continued.

“No matter how many of these photos you
rip up and burn in my trash can, these photos can still get out to the public.
You’ll ruin our president’s life if you don’t cooperate with me. What’s more:
you’ll be deemed the slut of the White House. No one wants to hear that the
president’s been sleeping with his campaign manager. What a scandal.” He ticked
his tongue against the top of his mouth, his eyes still glittering from the
fire.

I spun around, then, feeling the tears
running hot and steady down my face. I pushed through the door and began
running through the familiar hallways, back toward my desk. A small girl—one of
the campaign workers—rushed toward me with a phone pressed to her chest. Her
eyes were wide. “Amanda! I have a very important question for you—“

But I held up my hand, shaking my head. “I
have a terrible migraine, Denise,” I whispered, placing my hand on my head.
“Please. Give me—give me just a moment.”

Denise looked at me with a gaped
expression on her face. She wasn’t sure what to do, I knew: but I wasn’t cut
out for this anymore. Not now. I had done too much—I’d nearly ruined the entire
operation.

I caught my cardigan
around my bony shoulders and I grabbed my bag. In the dark hallway, back toward
the oval office, I saw Xavier suddenly. He peeked out of his office, like he
was watching me from afar. His shadow was so dark. I felt my body shiver with
longing for him. But I knew—I knew everything had to stop. It had to stop dead.
He didn’t know what was at stake.

I ran toward the steps,
turning away from the president. I could still feel his eyes on me as I fled.
The tears continued as I rushed into a taxi and told him to take me the fuck
home.

Chapter
2

In the back of the taxi,
I allowed the tears to fall fast down my cheeks. My long fingers clung to my
cheeks. I could hear the taxi driver in the front seat, whistling away with
such utter contentment.

“Miss? Are you all
right?” he finally asked me, peering at the rearview mirror.

I nodded, choking a bit.

Truly, the anger was
pulsing through me, throwing me off. I didn’t feel like my true self. Just the
day before, I’d been so enraptured with the president. I’d been of the—albeit,
strained—belief that he and I could be together, that nothing could stop us.

And yet this man, Jason,
who’d I’d viewed as a friend before, turned on me. He’d given me to the dogs.
And now I was to be his slave.

No one had ever gotten
the better of me. All the way through college, I’d won every campaign I’d come
up against. I’d been wide-eyed and assertive; no one had ever dared to cross
me. Even the men in my life hadn’t dared to keep up with me. They’d allowed me
to pass, like a great ship through the night, beside them and then beyond them.
Everyone knew that I was headed toward greater things. And I’d always known
that, as well.

The taxi turned right,
down my street. I pushed open the door of the taxi and handed the man several
bills. I didn’t make eye contact with him, didn’t thank him. I didn’t want
contact. I certainly didn’t want anyone to really, really see me cry—to see the
desolation lurking behind my eyes.