Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (85 page)

I was
simply his pawn, ready to do his bidding.

But I
stood, knowing I needed to meet the president. I paused at Jason’s desk. Jason
still peered up at me, his lips curling into a smile. “I have to go to the Oval
Office,” I stated to him with authority. I looked down my nose at him in his
chair. “Is there any sort of message you’d like me to pass on to the
president?”

Jason
tipped his head to the right. “Just don’t be too loud in there,” he stated, his
eyes wicked.

I
wanted to stomp my feet, to tug at my hair. I wanted him to leave me the hell
alone. But I knew I held no real power over him. So I nodded my head. “I’ll
recommend that you take on some new responsibilities or something?”

“Whatever
you feel is right,” Jason stated, shrugging. His eyes looked so bright, so
happy. What evil coursed through that man?

But I
brushed it from me as I walked. I remembered that just the previous day I’d
been so sure that my mind and my heart could find happiness, that I could go
with the flow—at least for now—and take advantage of this truly mind-altering
situation. I remembered his body over mine, almost like it was fiction I’d spun
in my head.

I
greeted the Secret Service agent and he opened the door for me, his face stoic.
I wondered if they talked about me—the other woman.

I
shivered.

Xavier
sat in his chair on the other side of his desk. He smiled at me as I entered,
and I bowed my head toward him. “Xavier. It’s been a moment since we spoke,” I
stated. I felt the strained cordiality coursing through my throat.

He
gestured toward the chair before him. I reminded myself to enjoy my life, to
make my life all it could be. I swallowed and sat, crossing my legs. I tipped
my head to the right, coyly. “What matter brings me here?” I asked him. I
didn’t ordinarily ask him these questions. We ordinarily didn’t speak like this
didn’t work hours.

Xavier
brought his hands out before him and gazed at his long fingers. They held
nothing. His wedding ring glinted on his left hand. “I try to meditate,” he
said then. “I try to make my mind come clean, to not think about anything.”

“How
is that working for you?” I asked him, swallowing. I tried not to laugh, not to
smile.

But
then, a smile stretched across his face. “It’s not working at all, Amanda. I
can’t get you off my mind. Not for a single second.” His word were low and
quiet. He shook his head and leaned toward me, over the desk. He reached out
and grasped my hand. I held his, running my thumb over his skin. He sighed. “What
are you thinking about?”

In
that moment, I realized that we’d been thinking about the same things. We’d
been thinking about each other, about us—as a couple. I swallowed and shrugged
my shoulders. “Everything. Nothing.” I swallowed. “And mostly you, I suppose.
Just you.” My voice was raspy.

Our
eyes met across the table. I leaned toward him. Our faces were inches apart,
and our whispered were easy, direct. It was almost like we were talking to each
other in bed. I told him the events of the campaign team that day, what we’d
accomplished. He told me about his business meeting with the governor of
Washington State. Our words were easy, laced with a serious comprehension of
the political world. But always, beneath us, we were linked. We sat,
hand-in-hand.

Finally,
after many minutes of political talk, he stopped. He bit his lip, and his eyes
peered into mine with such a question about them. “You know. I had a wonderful
time the other night.” His voice rose at the end, as if he were trying to get a
feel for what I thought about the evening, if I’d had a good time as well.

There
was no question; it had been one of the best nights of my life.

I
nodded slightly, feeling my hair drape around my face. I swallowed. “It was
magical, Xavier,” I whispered. Even as my heart panged in my throat, I knew
that it was right; this was what I wanted. I wanted to ride out this wave of
feeling and reach the other side—even if the other side was death and
destruction, a complete loss of my career.

Xavier
nodded. He leaned closer and brought his free hand to my face, bringing his
fingers through my brown, luxurious hair. “And I want you to know that I hear
you—I hear your problems with what I said. I understand why you panicked. I
can’t just leave my wife. Not yet. I don’t want to scare you off, certainly.
This is all I want. This. What we have. Right here.” He leaned closer to me,
and he kissed me, catching my lips with his. I felt the sunlight emanating in
from the great window on his other side. I sighed, feeling my pussy pulsing
beneath me. I wanted him so bad. But this moment in the sunshine, this moment
in which he told me that he wanted me, that he was willing to wait for me—was
beautiful enough.

The
stress seemed to fall from me so easily in the wake of the news that Xavier was
going to wait to tell his wife, that he was going to respect my wishes. I
shivered as I pulled away from the kiss. My passion for him was growing, even
as I felt that we were in a car that was about to ride over the cliff and into
the ocean.

“See
me again soon,” Xavier whispered to me. I thought of all the things on his
mind—about the way he was meant to take over the world, about how he had so
much riding on his shoulders. And all he wanted for relaxation was my company,
my body. My conversation.

And so
I nodded. “If you play your cards right, Mr. President. I think we can make
that happen.” My voice was light. I stood up and removed my hand from his. I
bowed my head and turned back toward the small door in the middle of the wall,
hidden in the oval curve. I opened the door and closed it, feeling like I was
removing myself from an arena of comfort.

The
rest of the pulsing, crazy world—that’s what I had to worry about.

Chapter 5

I
tapped down the hallway, moving my shoulders this way, then that—feeling like a
luxurious version of myself. I continued to imagine having sex with Xavier once
more, and the titillating thought of it seemed to make my entire body burst
with energy, with life. I almost laughed at myself, blushing.

Suddenly,
I burst around the corner and found myself face-to-face with Jason. That
weasel. I stopped short. My face turned red and angry. I pressed my lips
together and didn’t say anything. I just blinked at him, wishing I could smack
his fat cheeks.

He was
eating a granola bar, allowing the crumbs to fall all over the floor. My
stomach turned at his gross image. I cleared my throat.

“I see
you’re arriving back from your little meeting with the president. Didn’t last
very long, huh?” Jason asked me. He took another bite and I listened to him
chew.

I
shrugged my shoulders. “I suppose so.”

“What
happened in there? Too explicit to say?” He smiled at me. I turned my head to
the right, then the left, making sure that no one was listening in on our
conversation.

I
hissed at him. “Can you keep your voice down? I’ve done everything you’ve asked
of me, okay? I had a meeting with the president about the campaign. We talked
about our trip to California. Okay? Are you happy? What the hell.” I shook my
head and breathed deep. I felt such a fresh, vibrant stream of energy. I could
conquer the world, if I wanted to. Just not Jason.

He
just laughed at my rising anger. He took another bite, and then he spoke
through the crackling granola. “Say, Amanda. I was wondering where you’d been
the past few nights.”

My
heart dropped into the acid-rich pond of my stomach. I blinked my wide eyes
toward him. “I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered. My eyes glanced around
me once more.

He
laughed, tossing back his head in that menacing way. His fat neck shook to the
left and to the right. “I think you do. You haven’t been in your apartment
lately. I know this, of course.” He winked at me.

I felt
like crying. He was actively spying on me, every day. “I don’t see that that’s
any of your business.” I retorted. The anger was coursing my body. I couldn’t
stop my tongue as I pushed the words forward, into the world. They came out
hissing, snake-like. “And if you don’t stop spying on me, I think you know
what’s coming for you.” My threat hung in the air between us like a cloud.

He
tapped his toe lightly and tipped his head to the right, brimming with good
humor. “Is that right? Well. What is it you’ll do? Please. I want to hear it.
Tell it to me straight.” He brought his lower lip out and bobbed it at me, like
a child.

I
swallowed. “I’m going to inform the Secret Service that I found bugs in my
apartment and that there has been a breach in security.” My blood was boiling.
“Don’t even think I won’t.” I brought my finger into the air and tapped it
first to the left, then to the right.

But he
laughed once more. He brought his hands to his stomach and shook with such a
jolly manner. The fat beneath his crooked shirt seemed to jostle. “I suppose
you don’t care too much about your true love’s reputation, now do you? You talk
and I play show and tell.”

Xavier’s
face flashed before my eyes. Up until this moment, I’d thought that everything
with Xavier had been resolved. He wasn’t going to tell his wife about us—not
yet. And he was going to ease off that pressure, allowing me to take on my
career without his assistance. However, for some reason, I’d allowed this
shadowed, terrifying part of my life to drape away. I shook my head, feeling my
lungs hiccup in my chest. “If you don’t stop—if you don’t stop—“ I said the
words over and over again. I felt like I was hyperventilating.

But he
just laughed again. He took a step toward me. I thought he was going to spit in
my face. He bit his lip and then kissed me on the side of my face. I felt my
stomach turn over. “If you ever make good on your promise to go to the Secret
Service,” he began in a whisper, allowing the words to course through my body,
“I will make good on my promise to ruin your goddamned life. Both your life and
the president’s. Know that your problems are always lurking behind your back.
I’m always watching you, Amanda.” He lurched his head back and winked at me.

I
thought I was going to throw up.

He
shuffled around me, leaving me to stand in the shadow of the corner. Sweat
dripped from my armpits. I was certain I wouldn’t make it out of that
predicament; I had made too many mistakes. I had such a big enemy. I knelt down
on my knees and felt the tears cascade down my face, to the ground. I didn’t
know what to do.

I took
a taxi from the White House that afternoon, anxious to get out of that place.
Jason had sat across from me in that massive room, humming to himself and
continually eyeing me with this terrorizing gaze. I continued to stare at my
own computer, but the light was burning my eyes, and I was falling into a state
of unrest, of fright. For some reason, every time I grew afraid of this
uncertain, rocky future at the White House, I pictured myself in that room with
the president once more—the room with the candles. He was hovering over me, and
he was kissing my mouth, my cheek. We were sure of each other, of each other’s
bodies. We didn’t have to be sure about anything else. Not in this daydream.

The
taxi screamed across the city, toward my apartment. I knew I had to get some
more things out of there and take them back to Rachel’s apartment. Perhaps I
would offer to pay for rent; perhaps I would ask her if she could help me find
a new apartment. But it would all seem too suspicious. I didn’t want her to
think I was too needy; I didn’t want her to think that I needed her, after all.

But
god, I did.

I
rushed up the steps and burst into my apartment. I tossed my things on my couch
and screamed to the walls. “I DON’T KNOW IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, JASON, BUT YOU’RE
A FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

I
wiped the back of my hand over my mouth, feeling my heart beating so fast in my
chest. I would kill him someday, I thought to myself. He was as good as dead.

I
gathered my things and then I was out the door once more—a few suits and
dresses draped over my arm. I hailed a taxi and popped into it, directing him
toward Rachel’s apartment.

When I
arrived, she was already home, sitting outside on her balcony. She watched me
as I left the taxi, and she peered over the balcony, waving her long, thin arm.
“I didn’t think you’d be back today!” she called to me. Her voice seemed
hesitant. I couldn’t actually tell if she wanted me there, or if this was an
unfortunate thing for her—if she just wanted her free time, alone. Without
anyone.

I
shrugged. “Can I take up another night on your couch? I’ll pay you a couch
surfer fee!” I called. She laughed and waved me up. I felt my heart beat
quickly with the thought of a friend, of companionship. I’d forgotten what it
was like to actually care about someone.

She
opened the door and helped me with my things, allowing me to collapse at the
table. I poured us both a glass of wine, and she laughed from the couch.
“Already? It’s only five-thirty!”

“Exactly,”
I said, my eyebrow raised. I took a sip and pursed my lips together, eyeing the
red liquid. “It’s good. In fact, it’s probably great.”