“I thought your family supported the match?”
“They may support the match,” I answer, “but that doesn’t mean a match is happening. While in that vein, I will not be commenting on the inner dynamics of my family and personal life. Now, does anyone have any questions about House Bill 2250?”
“The Moan Heard Round the Word: Press Secretary Sex Tape Beats Out Reality Star for Top Views in Minutes”
Chapter 16
Cornered
I finally wrap up the press conference and leave the room with my head held high and a stiff upper lip. My life might have gone to hell in a handbasket, but I’m not going to let it get me down.
One step at a time.
I know there will be even more press camped out at my house, even more questions, because I didn’t give them the whole story, and I will not. Besides, it’s none of their goddamn business.
I make my way back down the hall toward my office, when suddenly, I’m grabbed by the arm and pulled into a dark, vacant office. The door closes behind us with a snick, and I’m pushed against the wall. I open my mouth to let out a scream, but a large hand covers my mouth.
“Hush.” I instantly still at the sound of a voice I recognize. “Are you going to scream if I move my hand?”
I shake my head, and he moves his hand, but he does not step away from where he has me pinned with his body against the wall in a dark room.
“Ryan?” I whisper.
“Yeah, babe.”
“Why did you kidnap me?” I ask quietly.
“I need some answers,” he responds cryptically.
“Okay.”
“What the fuck was that?”
“What the fuck was what?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to the question.
“The tape?” he thunders in hushed tones.
“I didn’t make it,” I say, and anger pours through my body and I see red at his accusation. “Wait a minute. Do you think I made it?”
“Babe, you have to see that is the logical conclusion.”
“You’re really something, you know that?” I snap as I realize that like all the men—hell, all the people, period, end of—in my family, Ryan is just fucking like them. Not one person thinks I might just be a decent human being with hopes and dreams, thoughts and feelings of my own. Everyone is out to use me or expects to be used, and it’s disgusting.
“Jules—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish. I buck against him.
“Let me go,” I demand, because I can’t stand to be in this room, this close to him, for a minute longer.
“Jules, listen—”
“No,” I snap. Suddenly, I’m close to tears. My emotions are riding me hard, and I can’t help it, but what I can help is the situation. It’s time I start standing up for myself. I can’t be Ryan’s doormat any longer. “I need you to let me go.”
“Honey, stop,” he says, but I don’t care. I fight harder. I need to get away from here, from him, from his soft voice that makes me purr like a kitten.
“No.”
“Stop,” he commands. “Before you hurt yourself.”
“No!” I cry. “You stop. You’re hurting me.”
He instantly lets me go at my words.
“Baby, please.”
“No,” I repeat, wrapping my arms around my waist. “I’m not strong enough for this. No more honeyed words or pet names, no more late-night trysts, and no more dark office conversations. I’m not this person. There is no duplicitous bone in my body. You may think I’m that kind of political mercenary, that I would take a video of us on a night, I’ll remind you, that you instigated, and I tried to avoid. And then you feel like I’m the kind of woman who would then publish a video of an intimate, private moment between us for some reason that I’m not sure of. So we’re done, here and anywhere. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Are you done?” he asks me.
“Well… yeah.”
“Good, then it’s my turn,” he says, and I feel my belly drop into my shoes. This is not good, and I need to get out of here.
“Ryan,” I whisper. I can hear the panic in my voice, and by the white flash of his smile in the dark, I can tell he hears it too. I need to get out of here like yesterday. I should have gone on safari when I had the chance and never came back, and now it’s too late. “Let me go.”
“No,” he says as he presses in. He crowds me against the wall again, and the hard heat of his body presses into mine. He has me cornered, and I have nowhere to go. “You had your chance to talk, and now it’s mine.”
“I… uhh…” I stammer and then lick my lips. His eyes drop down to my mouth and heat before they flit back up to my eyes again. “I think we covered everything we need to.”
“See,” he says, pressing closer still, “I don’t think that we did.”
“Well, I do.”
“You had your say, and now it’s my turn,” he begins once more, and I open my mouth to form a rebuttal, but he stops me with a hand low on my belly. “I will admit that, for a second, I considered you may have orchestrated this whole thing, but now I know for sure you did not.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’m sure,” he says. “You also have to admit that this will harm me more than it will harm you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, and I’m not sure why, but I do not like the idea of anything hurting Ryan, even if he did hurt me.
“Honey, celebrities weather this kind of storm all the time,” he says gently. “You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, and…?”
“I’m not a celebrity,” he answers.
“I don’t understand.”
“Think about it, Jules,” Ryan starts. “I’m a military man. When my identity in that video gets out, I’ll be court martialed.”
“What?” I gasp. I don’t know much about the military, but I do know that a court martial is not a good thing. I thought it was only for big criminals, but I might be wrong.
“This kind of conduct is not befitting of an officer,” he explains gently. “I will be tried and convicted, and then my military career will be over.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he presses on. “So you have to forgive me for the two seconds I had to weigh all the facts that I know so far. And I really am sorry you were hurt by any part of that.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “But you have to know, I won’t tell.”
“Honey, you have to,” he says. “They’ll eat you alive if you don’t.”
“Ha!” I laugh, suddenly finding my confidence again. “This is my world. The hive doesn’t eat the queen, and I am the queen bee here.”
“Okay, well how about the fact that I’m not the kind of guy who will let his woman take the fall for him?” he prompts, knocking some of the wind from my sails for a variety of reasons.
“Let’s start at the beginning with that one,” I tell him. “One, I’m not your woman.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” he says again.
“Take it back.”
“No.”
“Fine,” I snap. “If I’m your woman, why do you leave me every time? You treat me like a hit it and quit it.”
He seems stunned for a moment, and then his smile is huge and blinding. “I was trying to give you space. I had no idea you wanted me to stay.”
“I don’t. But you still left!” Shit, I’m letting all of my cards show on the table. I can’t let Ryan know how much he affects me. This is so not good.
“Honey,” he says, his voice whiskey-smooth. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I ask, and if he said anything else, it wouldn’t have surprised me more.
“I was afraid that if our courtship, which you have to admit has been rocky—”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” I mutter under my breath, but he hears it, and I know he does, because his hand at my belly slides around to my hip and i
t hard and quick in warning.
“—and I was afraid that if I didn’t get you settled and good and used to the idea of a you and me before that played out in the media, then it would be an absolute clusterfuck.”
“And now it’s playing out in the media,” I add helpfully.
“And it’s an absolute clusterfuck.”
“But they don’t know who you are.”
“Not yet, at least,” he says with a heavy sigh. “But I think they’ll figure it out real quick when we’re seen in public together.”
“Not happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening,” he says, his voice low. “I haven’t wanted anyone like this in years, if ever, and I’m not going to come this far only to have you slip through my fingers now.”
“You just want a fuck buddy. I’m sure any woman will do,” I mumble and instantly regret my words. I wish I had never let them fall out of my mouth, because if he agrees with me, I’m not sure how I’ll cope with the knowledge.
“Wrong.”
“What?” I whisper.
“It’s you,” he says. “I don’t want a fuck buddy. I want you. All of you. In and out of bed.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m about as serious as a heart attack,” he growls. “Now, I’m going to kiss the fuck out of you, and then we’re going to sneak out of this office, which chafes against everything I am, and we will continue this conversation tonight after I’ve sank my cock so deep inside you that you forget where I end and you begin.”
“Ryan,” I gasp.
“This is happening,” he says.
“But—” I try again. My heart is racing so fast it feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest. I feel like my life is now wild and out of control, and the wild has 100 percent to do with Ryan Black.
“This is happening,” he repeats in a low, gentle voice, and then he touches his mouth to mine, licking at the seam of my lips. I gasp, and he pushes his tongue inside to tangle with mine. I hold onto his shoulders for dear life.
And then the kiss is over just as fast as it began. Which is probably for the best, because it wouldn’t do for us to be caught making out in a vacant office if I’m going to protect him and his career from scandal and ruin.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he says just before he gently kisses me one last time.
And then he’s gone.
How does he keep doing that?
“Who is the Man in the Video? Inquiring Minds Want to Know!”
Chapter 17
Be with me
“How could you do this to us?”
After my invasive press conference, no one wanted to discuss the bill that the president openly opposes but Congressman Grissom seems hellbent on passing, so I decided enough was enough and called an end to the workday.
Not to mention Ryan said “we were happening” and that he would be at my house tonight, so I decided to batten down the hatches. I was determined to find how he was getting in my house and to put a stop to it. He’s not magic. He can’t walk through walls. Can he?
So I grabbed my purse from my office and locked up for the evening. I kept my head held high and my chin up and dared anyone with my eyes to stare at me as I moved through the offices and hallways. I have done nothing wrong, and I refuse to behave like I have something to be sorry for, because I absolutely do not.
I made my way back through security and out to the staff parking lot, where I climbed in my car and headed toward home. I drove through the Taco Bell drive-thru near my house and ordered the giant two chalupas and a taco meal, because if there was ever a day that one could indulge in junk food, it’s a day like today.
Now, I pull into the garage, not wanting to deal with all of the news vans camped on my front lawn, but at the same time knowing I will have to eventually. I turn the car off, grab my purse and my takeout bag, and shut the garage door before locking the door and walking in the house.
I kick off my heels and set my purse and takeout bag on the kitchen island, when my cell phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Honey, are you all right?” Grace asks.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. “Really.”
“You know we can be on a yacht in the Greek Sea by two tomorrow,” she says with a smile in her voice.
“I’ve already been the cause of a national incident,” I droll. “I will not be the cause of an international one too.”
“Party pooper.” She laughs. “But seriously. If you need me, I’m there.”
“I know,” I tell her. “But really. I’ll be all right.”
“Taco Bell?” she asks.
“And Tequila.”
“Got it. Go conquer the world,” she says and then hangs up.
I head upstairs and slip out of my clothes and put on a pair of men’s style sweatpants that have baggy legs that gather at the ankles and a tank top. I pull wool socks on my feet and make my way back downstairs.
I eat a chalupa while standing at the kitchen counter and look around the room. How could he be getting in? But I get distracted by the blinking red light on my answering machine. I know it’s old-fashioned and not many people have landlines and answering machines anymore, but I do. I like the feeling of being connected.
I wad up my wrapper and reach for another as I hit the Play button on my machine and instantly regret it when the hateful tone of my mother’s voice fills the room.
“How could you do this to us?” she screeches. “We are so embarrassed by you. No, we’re not embarrassed; we’re humiliated!”
I take a bite of my second chalupa while she continues her tirade over my lack of decorum and class. I shrug. It is what it is. It would have been nice to have a family who rallies around me when I need them during a crisis like this, but again, it is what it is. You can’t miss what you never had.
“You’re just lucky Jefferson is willing to look past this,” she says. “He’s still willing to have you and goddammit, you listen and you listen well. You will do the right thing for this family or there will be consequences.”
I snort. There’s literally nothing she can do to me. She has nothing to hold over my head anymore. I’m thirty-five years old and have a fantastic career and plenty of savings. She should worry about me. I could easily write a tell-all. Although I would never do that to my brother, Gil, no matter how mad I am at him right now.
Another message clicks over, and Gil’s concerned voice fills the room. I guess speak of the devil. Say his name and he shall appear on your answering machine.
“Jules, what’s going on?” he asks. “I’m worried about you. Give me a call.”
I sigh. I’ll give him a call when I’m ready, but for tonight, I just want to hunker down and lick my wounds. And with that thought, I drop my half eaten chalupa on the counter. I’m no longer hungry. I fill a glass with water from the kitchen tap and chug it down before placing the glass in the sink. I’ll deal with this mess later.
I make my way into the living room, pull my lilac throw from the back of the sofa, and wrap it around me. I lie down on my side across the sofa with my back against the cushions. A shuddered breath forces its way out of my chest, and then the first tear rolls down my cheek. Then another and another.
It’s dark by the time I’ve had a good cry, and the room is filled with shadows, since I didn’t turn on any lights in this room, but I don’t care. I just want to be alone with my thoughts. I can’t conquer the world until I conquer what’s inside my brain first. But my dark thoughts are interrupted by my sexy nighttime intruder, reminding me that I forgot all about my quest to figure out how he gets in night after night.
“Babe, this shit on your counter will kill you,” he says from the doorway that connects the two rooms. I jump up from the sofa. I’m sure my eyes are wild, and I know my heart is racing.
“W-w-what are you doing here?” I stammer as I clutch my blanket around me like a cloak.
He stares at me for a beat before answering. �
�I told you that I would be here.”
“Oh… that’s right,” I mumble. “How do you get in?”
“I have my ways,” he tells me as he stalks into the room.
“I think you should tell me what those ways are,” I say out loud and then think, so I can stop them.
“Not yet,” he says. “Come here.”
“No.”
“I’m really thinking you should come here,” he says gently.
“No.”
“Then I’ll come to you,” he says, taking another step closer.
“No!” I blurt.
“Why not?” Ryan asks casually as he stills his movements. He’s totally in tune with me, and I equal parts love it, because no one has ever completely seen me like he does, and hate it, because he sees everything, and I can hide nothing.
“Kids!” I practically word vomit on the rug in front of me and wish I hadn’t shown something so important to me, but Gil’s words ring in my head. Ryan is twelve years older than me with two mostly grown children. He isn’t going to want to have babies with me, not that we’re there in our relationship.
“What about kids?” he asks me. Actually, maybe this is good. Maybe I can make him see we’re a bad match and he needs to walk away, that we have to end this dangerous game we’re playing before my heart is engaged as much as my body is and I can’t take it back.
“You have them,” I explain.
“Yeah,” he says, and I don’t take notice that his body went dangerously still. He’s alert and waiting to see what I say next. I should have paid more attention that I was on precarious waters in a dinghy.
“You have them,” I push on. “You’ve already raised them. I want them. Someday. Maybe soon, I don’t know. But you’ve already done that. So you see? We have to break up.”
“What?” he asks. “Why?”
“Because,” I explain again. “You’ve already done that. I haven’t. So we can’t be together, because I want them. I’m going to adopt. I don’t need a man to adopt.”
“What about a sperm donor?” he asks, and I shrug my shoulders.
The Press Secretary's Passion (A Presidential Affair Book 3) Page 14