Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (94 page)

But as
I walked from the office, I heard footsteps behind me. “Wait.” The voice was
quiet, yet firm.

I spun
back around to find Xavier before me, a look of earnest in his eyes. I brought
my hands across my chest. “What is it?” I whispered. I was so conscious that
Jason would exit the campaign office at any time, that he would see us talking
here. We didn’t have much time.

“I
need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”

“And I
told you I’d make time very soon,” I returned.

“The
last time you said that, you disappeared for four days,” he whispered. His eyes
skirted from left to right across the hallway. “Please. Hear me out. It’s all I
ask.”

But I
shook my head. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I wanted this all to
pass over us like a bad storm. I wanted the winds to die down. I wanted Jason
to lose interest in the entire operation. I wanted this universe—this universe
in which Xavier and I had loved each other—to close and leave us in peace. I
opened my mouth and hissed toward him: “This conversation will have to wait.” I
wanted to be a professional once more. I knew that the first moment he erupted
with any “love” stuff, I would lose my cool. I would falter, fall away. Perhaps
someday, when all this fell away and we were just two normal people, alone
somewhere in the world, we could discuss what had occurred between us. But not
there in the White House.

Never
again.

But he
reached toward me. He grabbed me at my elbow. Not hard. Just hard enough,
though, to make me rear back, as if I’d been shocked. His eyes were dark, at
this moment. He evoked such seriousness. In that moment, I understood why the
people respected him enough to name him as their leader. I swallowed, feeling
pain coursing up and down my arm.

“This
is serious, Amanda,” he stated, then. “I need to discuss the campaign with you.
As you can see, the campaign is faltering. You’ve fired two people today and
Jason is a goddamned nervous wreck.”

The
words turned over in my stomach, making my eyes grow wide.

“I
must speak with you at once. Alone, and in my office. Now.”

He
took his fingers away from my vein once more. I shook out my arm, feeling the
blood pulse into my arm once more. I felt his shadow pass beyond me, toward his
office. I turned and followed him, hanging my head like a dog. His feet were so
fast, sweeping into the room. I nodded toward the agent on the way in,
acknowledging my defeat. I knew, in so many ways, that this was the end of me.
I had to be alone with this man. Everything would unravel at once.

Everything
would cease.

He
closed the door behind us. The sound was oddly muffled. He brought his arm out,
gesturing forth to allow me to move into the room further. I was trapped. I sat
at the first couch, feeling the cushion breathe beneath me. I folded my hands
in my lap. I blinked toward him, and he paced back and forth, his eyebrows
folding over his eyes. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he turned
toward me. His eyes blinked ravenously. He stuffed his hands in his pockets,
and he sighed.

“Listen,
Amanda. I owe you an apology.”

I
swallowed, knowing that I was about to fall apart. My voice quivered. “I
thought this was about business,” I murmured. I looked toward my hands.

He
took a step forward. “In a way, this is about business. It’s about you and I
getting along in order to produce the best result.”

I
continued to look toward my hands.

“But I
don’t care about the best result anymore. I don’t,” Xavier whispered, finally
falling into a whisper, a voice filled with passion. “I just. I want to tell
you that I made a terrible, horrible mistake, as far as we are concerned.”

“There
is no ‘we’ Xavier,” I began.

But he
talked over me, drowning me out. “When you told me about that slimy snake,
Jason, I surely thought that I would kill him. I was in such shock. I felt
that—that my career was in jeopardy. Can you understand that?”

I
didn’t say anything. I still didn’t look toward him. I maneuvered my fingers
through themselves, lacing them up tight.

“I
never meant anything I said about you. I didn’t mean anything I said about—about
you not being qualified for the position, certainly. You’re very qualified.
You’re meant to be here, on your own merits.”

Something
inside of me—perhaps a sense of anger—had begun to grow, to flourish in that
moment. I frowned, bringing my fingers tighter and tighter together. I wanted
him to skip to the business portion of this meeting; I wanted to resort back to
what I was meant to be doing. I felt the tears growing hot in the back of my
eyes, drizzling to the surface. I had cared about him with my entire being. But
he couldn’t just take those words back. My heartbeat began to pilsate in my
face, in my hands.

“Amanda.
Did you hear me? You’re incredibly qualified, one of the smartest women I’ve
ever met.” He swallowed, stupidly. “I was in shock. But the only thing I really
want—after several days of not seeing you, after several days of finally
realizing the carelessness of my words—is you. All I want is you, Amanda.”

The
air hung around us: so dry, so archaic. I wanted to rush out of their immediately.
I wanted to fall away from this relationship, to pretend like nothing had ever
happened between us. I blinked up at him, suddenly. “Is that all?”

Xavier
shrugged his shoulders slowly. His eyes grew sallow, sad. I could see his
shoulder bones beneath his suit.

I
finally pulled my fingers apart in the midst of the silence. I wiped the new
sweat over my fine business dress suit. “All right. I’m prepared to hear the
business side of things, now,” I stated. My eyes drew up toward his, and I knew
they were dark, filled with judgment.

But
his voice quaked, then. He brought his hand before him, pointing toward me.
“What do you—“

“The
business element of this conversation,” I stated, gesturing. “You said to come
in here to speak with you about business. And so I came. Please. Proceed.”

“Did
you even hear everything I just said?” Xavier murmured. His eyes were
quizzical. I could see a single bead of sweat sweep down his face.

“I
did,” I retorted. “And I don’t see how it’s relevant. Please. Proceed.” I
nodded emphatically, knowing that my words were ripping through him. I couldn’t
care.

Finally,
Xavier smacked his hands on his legs. “Fuck, Amanda. I didn’t have anything
else. I just—I just said I wanted to see you professionally so that I could see
you privately. I wanted to say my piece. Can’t you understand that?”

But I
stood, quaking. I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “So. You told
me you had something incredibly important—and work-related to talk about—and
then you bring me in here to talk about something privately. Something that
should be kept out of the confines of this office.” I felt my voice growing
hot. “And you still expect me to believe that you honestly hired me just
because you thought I was professionally appropriate for the job? You lie about
everything, Xavier. You lie about fucking everything, and I can’t hack it
anymore. You’re no better than anyone else. You’re a cheater, and you’re a
liar. I didn’t earn this position. That much is clear to me, now.” Every word I
spoke seemed like an emphatic bite into the air, taking a strand of life from
the president’s shoulders. He bent lower and lower.

But I
continued. “You’re even worse than Jason,” I growled. “Jason is taking
advantage of me, sure. But he’s doing it cruelly, outwardly, with that gross
sneer on his face. You, Mr. President. You’re taking advantage of me in very,
very different and personal ways. You’re hacking into the very essence of my
soul and expecting me to fall all over you, to give you all of myself.” I shook
my head. Xavier had opened his mouth, ready to retort, to argue back. But I
wouldn’t allow him. “You don’t keep to your word. You’re angry with me; you
kick me out of bed; and then you come stumbling back, searching for my body
because your wife doesn’t give you what you need.” I sniffed, stomping my heel
on the carpet. I started pounding toward the door.

Xavier
reached his hand out toward me, trying to grab my arm once more. But I reared
back, hissing through clenched teeth. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”

“But—“

“No.
Xavier. No.” I righted myself, feeling the passion and power fueling from
Xavier’s eyes. I wanted to toss water on it, to give myself the time to
breathe. This was my moment. I tried to imagine my life before me: I tried to
comprehend if this political scene was really where I belonged. I shook my
head, knowing what I needed to do. I felt my stomach flip over as I began the
sentence. “I’ll be leaving the campaign team until further notice.” The words
came out in a stream of near-laughter. I almost didn’t believe them, myself.

“What?”
Xavier asked, taking another step forward. But I held out my hand, warning him
not to come closer.

I
reached toward the Oval Office door—the camouflage that snuck out toward you in
the wallpaper. I ran my eyes around the room, knowing this would be my last
time. I searched Xavier’s face for a moment, as well, finding only pain, only
suffering.

As I
turned the handle, Xavier spoke once more. His voice was resigned, if hesitant.
“Amanda. I urge you to take a few days to think about this before making a
final decision.” He tucked his hands in his pocket and looked at me like an
old, schoolboy crush. My heart did a flip flop.

But I
turned back, not willing to answer. I swallowed and prepared myself for a new
life, a new line. I tapped into the hallway, willing only to grab my purse from
my desk and scurry from the shell of this terrorizing White House. I heard the
Oval Office door slam behind me as I walked quickly, noting that the entire
west wing was empty, void of the many milling workers of the usual day-to-day.
The office was still cluttered. I found the young campaign girls’ coffee mug
shards on the ground. I picked one up and felt my finger begin to bleed. The
blood dripped onto my fine business dress suit. The stain spread a bit as I
walked quickly, out toward the hall and into the cool night air.

October
was coming. I would dismiss myself from the political world. I would find a new
line of work. Perhaps I could find someone to love—someone who loved me the way
I was meant to be loved. Perhaps I could find happiness.

I
shivered in the taxi on the way home, wishing for this strange feeling to pass.
I knew everything took time. And time, in this new, unemployed future, was all
I really had.

Chapter 6

Yes. I
had time in this new, unemployed future. But I had a friend, as well. I wasn’t
alone. I opened the door to Rachel’s apartment and sat, drinking wine at the
table and waiting for her to come home. I tapped my fingers against the table’s
wood, sensing that the stress from the past few months was falling from my
shoulders. I tried my hardest not to feel disappointed, not to feel like my
entire world was crashing around me. I tried not to remember that being
involved in the political spectrum was all I had ever dreamed of for my entire
life. I didn’t have time for such sadness. Not now.

Finally,
Rachel burst into the apartment. She took a single look at me, and she brought
her hand to her heart. “What’s happened?” she whispered. She looked stricken.

“What
do you mean, what’s happened?” I asked her. I shook my head, biting my lip.
“Nothing’s happened!”

But
Rachel tapped forward and placed her hand on my cheek, wiping at a tear I’d
allowed to escape, unnoticed. “Honey.” She shook her head. “I don’t regret
getting out of that political world for one second, I can tell you that. Look
at what they’re doing to you?”

I
wanted to tell her I was out—that I’d moved on, as well. But it felt like such
sacred knowledge. And so, instead: “Hey. Would you want to go for a run by the
monuments tonight? It’s one of our nicer evenings—one of the last of the year,
surely, before winter.” I swallowed, my eyes peering up toward her. “What do
you say?”

She
raised her eyebrow toward me. “It’s not such a bad idea, is it?” she said,
tipping her hip to the right. She checked her watch. “We can get there before
the sun falls away for good.” She winked at me.

We
rushed into our separate rooms and pulled on our running clothes. I felt the
running tights align so well with my taut muscles. I hadn’t been running in
several weeks, I knew, but the strain of the past few weeks’ terror had
initiated a great boost in my metabolism. I had actually lost weight.

We met
in the kitchen, stretching our limbs and easing our arms into the air. I felt
my back pop. Rachel wasn’t asking any further questions. It seemed that she
understood: I wanted to stay away from the subject, at least for now.

We
leaped into a taxi, and the man took us toward the monuments. They seemed to
catch fire in the orange from the sunset. I grabbed both my knee caps with my
harsh fingers and felt the strain of my bones. I grinned into the sun, closing
my eyes.

Naturally,
with my eyes closed like this, I could only see Xavier; I could only imagine a
life with Xavier. I nearly felt his fingers cup my breasts, play with my
nipples. I could nearly feel his smile on me as we walked by each other in the
White House, each fueled with the secret of our affair. That life had been so
beautiful, so true.

“Hey!
Amanda!” Rachel called to me, rattling against my shoulder. We had arrived at
the monument park, and I was jostled out of my reverie.

I
blinked toward her, finding a smile. “You ready?”

We
rustled out into the cold sunset air and began an easy job through the park. I
liked the feeling of having a companion beside me, someone to run with. Someone
who could hear the rattling of my breath as I moved forward. We were both
natural runners; we used to run together when we’d both worked on the campaign
for Xavier’s first reign. I remembered that we used to cackle together in the
park, two slim, young women (just twenty-five years old!) with our futures
looming ahead of us.

We
whizzed past the Washington Monument. I stopped, watching as the stark sword
shot into the orange sunset. I was breathing heavily. Rachel continued jogging,
leaping ahead of me, until she understood that she’d left me behind. Because
I’d been left behind so much, lately, it seemed natural—natural to be the one
falling behind. I brought my hand in the air and waved ahead, toward her. As if
to say: “Jog on.”

But
she didn’t. She walked back toward me, her neck bobbing this way, then that,
stretching out. She frowned, a small patch of fear appearing in her eyes.

I
spoke lightly, efficiently. “I’ve left the White House.” The orange wafted over
my cheeks, over my lips. I heard the words echo over the water. “It’s over.”

Rachel
nodded primly.

“I
just need a bit of time to think about everything that’s happened,” I
continued. I didn’t know why I felt I needed to verify myself to the woman
before me; I didn’t know why I felt that she was my protector, she was my only
savior. “Xavier and Jason—the whole spiel. It was all becoming far too much for
me. So I took a step back.”