There’s a knock at the door.
“Jules, it’s me,” Rick says from the other side of the door, and I flip the lock and let him in.
He shuts the door behind him, and I’m racing back to my trashcan. I throw up again. Poor Rick. This is not what he bargained for.
“Jesus,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I gasp and point over to my work area. “On the desk.”
I let myself fall down from my knees to my backside as he walks over to my desk. He flips through the photos and reads the note. His face becomes hard, and even I would find him a little terrifying if it weren’t on my behalf.
“Fuck,” he bites out. “I was hoping you were pregnant.”
“You think I’m pregnant?” I squeak.
“You just hurled in a trashcan,” he reminds me. “And you and Black are together together.”
“Yeah, and…?” I ask.
“Two plus two is four, honey,” he says gently. He must recognize the confused look on my face. “Are you guys using any protection at all?”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I catch his drift. “Umm… no. Not really.” His eyes gentle, and I know what he’s thinking I’m a Grade-A idiot, because I should have been using some kind of contraceptive instead of enjoying myself and throwing caution to the wind. “I’m probably not pregnant. It’s just stress.”
“Sure,” he says before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
“You’re not going to tell Ryan I’m pregnant, are you?” I rush to ask, and he smiles at me.
“No, Jules,” he tells me gently. “That’s for you two to figure out together.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“No problem.” And then he begins to unlock his phone and press a bunch of buttons.
“You said you wouldn’t call!” I practically shout, and his eyes cut to me.
Someone on the other end of the line must have answered, because Rick looks back to the photos spread across my desk now and says, “Lock Black down. And get Ghost too. Yeah. It’s bad.”
And then he ends the call.
“I’m not thinking that was a good conversation,” I mutter.
“No, honey, it was not,” he says as he delicately stacks the items from the envelope and stuffs them back inside.
He offers me a hand and does not flinch at all that I probably smell like puke. He wraps an arm around my shoulders in a brotherly hug. “It’s going to be okay. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“We’ll work it out,” he says softly.
And then he leads me out of my office and down the hall. He has the envelope tucked under his arm so it’s not easily spotted. We make our way through the halls and down to a conference room that is not monitored by closed circuit video cameras.
Rick does not knock; he just pushes open the door where Ryan and Jake are squared off against one another. Gus, Jake’s number one Secret Service Agent, steps aside so we can enter, and we do so quietly.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Ryan roars. He’s pissed. When Rick said to lock him down, he apparently meant literally. And Ryan does not look happy about it.
“I think I can answer that,” Rick says as we push farther into the room.
“Jules?” He takes one look at me and asks, “Are you all right, baby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
There’s that word again—ghost. I hope to never hear it ever again.
“No, Ryan,” I say with a shaky voice. “I’m not okay.”
“What’s going on?” he asks again.
Rick produces the envelope from under his arm and holds it up for everyone to see before he begins his explanation.
“This was waiting for Jules in her office inbox this morning when she arrived,” he says before opening the little tabs and upending the contents all over the conference table, much like I did this morning.
“What the fuck?” Jake asks with a hard face. Ryan doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he grabs a chair from the table, picks it up, and hurls it into the wall. I let out a little scream and cover my mouth with my hands.
“Come here,” Ryan says, and I know he’s talking to me, because he’s pointing his finger at the ground directly beside himself. When I hesitate, he growls, “I’m not going to ask you again, Jules.”
And then I go. I don’t waver now. I run directly to him. And when I get close, he holds his arms open, and I hit him full body. He rocks back on a heel to take my weight and then closes his arms around me. I bury my face in his chest and cry.
“No one is going to touch you,” he assures, still growling. “Not one fucking hair on your head. Do you hear me?”
I just nod.
“What are we going to do about this?” he asks the men in the room. I clearly have no idea. I knew he was going to lose his mind, so I called Rick. And it turns out I was correct, because when Ryan saw the pictures, he threw a chair. It was impressive when it was my answering machine, but now we’re escalating in size and value of the items thrown. At this rate, we’ll never be able to keep up financially, and I’m quite rich.
“Honey, what are you thinking?” Jake asks.
“That if Ryan keeps throwing things, I’m going to end up in the poor house trying to replace them,” I admit without thinking. “And I’m pretty loaded, so that’s saying something.”
“Babe,” Ryan says, and I tip my head back to look him in the eye. His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.
“What?” I ask. “It’s true. All of it.”
I look around, and Gus, Rick, and Jake are all smiling flat out.
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Rick inserts, “let’s sit down and discuss this. I think we need a plan.”
We all sit down around the table, and everyone passes the pictures, and I hand them along, not wanting to look at them for a multitude of reasons, one of them being I don’t want to toss my cookies in front of all these people and answer awkward questions. My mind flits back to what Rick said in my office. Could I be pregnant? I just don’t know. I make a mental note to find a moment to get to a drug store and buy a pregnancy test.
“She needs full coverage,” Ryan says. Well, so much for finding a private time until all this is over.
“We can’t justify her having Secret Service coverage,” Jake replies. “We would get raked over the coals for it.”
“And we can’t explain to the public why she needs it,” Rick adds.
“I have a buddy,” Ryan reminds. “His name’s King. He owns King Security. We were in the Marines together until he needed to get out for personal reasons.”
“Call him,” Jake says.
Ryan produces his phone from his pocket and swipes his finger across the screen to unlock it. He presses a bunch of numbers, and it starts ringing through the room.
“King,” a gruff voice answers.
“Hey, man, it’s Black,” Ryan says.
“Hey, I got some things going down,” he says. “Can I call you back in a few days?”
“Actually, I have some things going down too,” Ryan replies. “I was hoping you could come and help me keep my girl safe.”
“I’m on a… difficult job right now,” he tells him. “I can send a man though.”
“Can your man take over for you and you head to D.C.?” Ryan asks.
“I fucking wish,” King grumbles. “But no. The client wants only me.”
“I understand,” he says. “I’ll let you know what we decide.”
“Sounds good, brother. I’ll get in touch if this job uncomplicates itself anytime soon.”
“All right. Later,” Ryan replies before he disconnects. “Fuck.”
“It’ll be okay,” I murmur quietly.
“No, it will not,” he bites out. “I’m not playing games with your safety.”
“It’s not me that I’m worried about,” I tell him gently.
“I can’t protect y
ou, and I need to make sure you’re safe.”
“I know,” I reply. “So let’s keep safe together. Safety in numbers, right?”
“I can’t always be with you.”
“I know, and I promise to be good. I’ll lock myself up in my house when you’re not with me. I won’t go anywhere alone either.”
“If I find out you’re taking unnecessary risks….” He trails off, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“I know,” I assure. “I won’t.”
“You better not.”
“Aide-de-Camp Spotted with Mystery Blonde and Tongues Wag”
Chapter 20
Promises broken
Three days later
Quiet.
It’s been a quiet three days since the threat was delivered to my office. I’m actually wondering if it was a joke or a scam. Not that I would mention either of those ideas to Ryan, who is, to say the least, unhappy.
Ryan has to work late tonight, and I promised to go straight home after work. But I have other plans. It’s the first time Ryan is letting me out of his sight in three days, and I’m feeling a little stir crazy.
Not to mention that every morning, I toss my cookies like it’s my job. And then I’m just fine. When Ryan asks me what’s going on, I just chalk it up to stress. But the longer it continues, I think he thinks something else is going on. And honestly, I do too.
I haven’t said the words aloud yet, but I think I’m pregnant. Not only am I sick every morning, but I’ve been crying like… all the time. It’s so stupid. I hate crying and almost never do. Now, I’m crying at the drop of a hat.
So enough is enough. After work, I’m heading to a CVS so I can grab a handful of pregnancy tests and figure out what to do next. What I do know for sure is that whatever happens, Ryan and I will do it together.
Since the night I promised him me, we’ve been together, in every sense, even though we had to keep things under wraps for a little bit longer. Ryan and I are solid, and there is nothing anyone can say to me to make me think otherwise.
I grab my purse from the bottom drawer of my desk and sling it over my shoulder. I make my way through the offices and back through the staff lot to my car. I climb in and head toward my neighborhood.
I pull into the CVS parking lot and get out of my car. The automatic doors open, and the lady working the front counter doesn’t even look up as she says, “Welcome to CVS. Happy shopping.”
I don’t say anything. I just hurry back to the diapers and condoms aisle, where ironically the pregnancy tests are. Whoever plans the aisles for this store has a cruel sense of humor. It’s like the three stages of family planning. One, condoms. Two, pregnancy tests, because you forgot the condoms—that one is me. And three, diapers, because you forgot the condoms, and the pregnancy tests told you that you’re fucked.
Although, I’m not so sure I’d feel like my life is fucked if I’m pregnant with Ryan’s baby. Even as the world feels like it’s ending and death threats are hanging over our heads, I know in my heart of hearts I would be over the moon to have a baby with him.
If I’m being honest, I’m in love with Ryan Black. I’m in love with him and his two beautiful children, and I want nothing more than to marry him and be their stepmom and add to that family. All something I never thought I wanted, because I was so busy building my career and living my dreams while my parents were pushing me toward marriage, so I dug my heels in and refused to hear them out every time. I guess it just wasn’t the right man, because my life with Ryan is all kinds of right.
I roll my eyes at my hearts-and-flowers thoughts. What kind of sap is he turning me into? Who knew love would make me so soft?
I look back to the pregnancy test choices and realize I should have asked Grace or Cara, or I should have googled something, anything, because I have absolutely no idea which one to choose. I wonder if I should call one of my girlfriends. But then I quickly discard that thought, because then I would have to explain, and that would not be good. And besides, I’m in a goddamn CVS. This is not the place to be having life-altering conversations.
But still, I don’t know what any of the words say on the back of the box. Some say early testing options and others say more accurate results. Are those two options mutually exclusive? I just don’t know. So, I grab one of every box on the shelves and pile them into a little basket to carry them up to the front counter.
The cashier stares at my haul wide-eyed, and I stare right back. She must see my terror staring back at her, because she chooses to keep her mouth closed and just scans the eight different pregnancy test boxes.
“Is that all for you tonight?” she asks, and I panic. Is she judging me? I have no idea, but I don’t want her to judge me, so I grab a candy bar from the shelf below the counter and hand it to her.
“And this,” I say and then grab a cherry-flavored lip balm that looks fantastic too. “And this.”
She rings up my extra items and loads them into the plastic shopping bags with my little boxes.
“That will be one hundred and twenty-seven dollars and eighty-six cents,” she says, and I feel like my eyes bug out of my head.
Yeesh those little suckers are expensive. My impulse buys at the end couldn’t have been more than $2.50 combined. I just quietly pull my wallet from my purse and slide my credit card through the card reader.
“Thank you,” I say quietly when she hands me my bags and receipt.
I climb back in my car and feel like I’m going to be sick again, but this time, I know it’s just nerves. I drive past a little Japanese restaurant I love. A little teriyaki bento box and some vegetable tempura will hit the spot. What would really hit the spot is some damn sushi, but I know from talking to Grace and Cara during Grace’s pregnancy that it’s a pretty big no-no, which is a damn bummer, because so is wine. And until I have a yes or a no, both are off the table, because I would not do anything to risk our baby.
I pull my car into the parking lot and park. I grab my purse and toss it over my shoulder as I make my way up to the front of the building. I know I promised Ryan I wouldn’t go anywhere but home, and now I’ve made two stops, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Especially if I can give him good news when he hits my place later tonight.
The place is lit up brightly, and it illuminates the windows and the people inside. I’m halfway up the sidewalk in front of the restaurant when I stop in my tracks, and my breath seizes in my lungs.
No.
It can’t be. But then again, it is. It looks like mine weren’t the only promises broken tonight, because sitting at a booth right near the entrance to the restaurant is a beautiful blonde woman. She’s gorgeous. Her hair is bright and shining like she’s in a goddamn L’Oreal commercial. She has a wide smile, and you can tell, even from here, that her eyes twinkle when she smiles.
And she’s young. Not too young, but much younger than her companion. She’s probably five or six years younger than me, putting her right at about thirty years old, and by the look of it, the years have done nothing but enhance her beauty.
But it’s not the woman at the table who makes me realize that when I thought fate had finally smiled on me, that my lucky stars had finally found me, I should have known it was all a lie. Because the man she’s smiling so brightly at is none other than Ryan Black.
And then my heart smashes into a million pieces in a way that I know it will never be able to be put back together again.
Someone jostles me from behind. “Oh, excuse me,” they say. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I say quietly. “I am.”
Because I’m the one who’s really sorry.
They walk past me and into the restaurant. I’m not hungry anymore in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever be hungry again. I turn on my heels, get back in my car, and drive myself home.
For the first time in ages, the street in front of my house is empty instead of a news van here or there. Finally, a break in my shitty luck, because what I need is to take these stupid
tests into the house and take them.
I pull my car into my garage, grab my purse and my bags, and head into the house, closing the overhead door and locking it behind me. I set my stuff on the kitchen island countertop and pull a glass down from the cupboard. I fill it with water from the sink and drink it down. I fill it up and do it again while staring out at my backyard.
I laugh at nothing in a way that’s not funny while I sip my water. Growing up, my parents hated it when I would do things like drink water from the tap. They said it was common, and we weren’t common people. Although, judging by the last email I received from my mother, she’s changed her mind about whether or not I’m common. She referred to my romance with Ryan as common and said I was just a common whore. I’m trash and nothing but a disappointment. If only she could see me now.
I set my glass in the sink. I’ll deal with it later. I continue to look out the back window, and then it dawns on me. I know how he’s getting in the house. My hide-a-key rock is sitting right off the porch. And it glows a bright blue. How dumb could I be?
I hurry to the sliding glass door and fling it open. I rush out and grab the entire fake rock and rush back inside with it in my arms. I toss it under the kitchen sink, where he will never find it, and then I make sure every door and window is locked tight.
After I’m done with that chore, I am just done—period, end of. I grab my CVS bags off the counter, carry them upstairs to my bedroom, and drop them all on the bed. I change out of my work clothes and put on my frumpy sweats. I toss my hair up on top of my head and secure it with a rubber band, and then I grab the bags of pregnancy tests and carry them into the bathroom.
I upend the bags on the big marble counter and tear the top off a box. I pull out the instructions. It all looks easy enough. Open the test, pee on the stick, and then wait three minutes. So I take each and every test, and then I line them up in neat little rows like soldiers on my bathroom counter.
The Press Secretary's Passion (A Presidential Affair Book 3) Page 17