Presidential Bargain (The Presidential Promises Duet Book 1)

by Rebecca Gallo

  “What?” My mouth fell open in shock. “I mean, you will? I mean…thank you, but I can’t pay for that kind of renovation.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” Jameson reached out and took my hand.

  I looked down at our hands, his large one dwarfing mine. It felt warm and heavy and comforting, but the small act of affection scared me. I jerked my hand away, his skin suddenly scalding hot.

  “You said we need to talk,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, we do.” He nodded, finishing off his last bite of dinner before wiping his mouth with a napkin. I might have stared a little too long at his gorgeous, wide mouth and the slight curl of his upper lip.

  “You want me to accept?” I questioned him with a hint of disbelief.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you easily saw the flaws in our plan. If I’m going to parade a fake fiancée around in front of the world, then it needs to be believable. No one is going to buy some doe-eyed Barbie who coos about how wonderful I am at every campaign stop.”

  “But aren’t you? Wonderful?”

  Jameson snorted. “Hardly. I tend to be a bit of an ass. I’m also extremely stubborn. I have far too many demons for one woman to handle for longer than a night or two.”

  Something deep inside of me screamed “YES!” because I wanted to agree to do this. I wanted to belong to someone again, even if it was only temporary. The loneliness of my life was beginning to feel claustrophobic and Jameson was offering me a way out. “I still want my cabinet pick.”

  “Give me your short list. If any of the names match the people I’m considering, then I’ll vet them. And potentially nominate them. It’s my compromise. Take it or leave it.”

  “Deal.”

  As soon as Georgie agreed, I wasted no time having her added to my schedule. I sat at her kitchen table for hours after our dinner ended, conducting business. It felt comfortable being there. She cleaned up around me, humming. Her hips swayed beneath the skirt of her red polka-dotted dress, and the modest neckline revealed a hint of the full breasts beneath. She brought me coffee, placing the mug down in front of me with a soft smile. It was then I realized how much younger she was than me. I struggled to remember her exact age; she was twenty-seven or twenty-eight and I had just turned forty. What would people say about our age difference?

  I called Lewis and Jenkins with the good news: Jameson Martin had a fiancée. Now they had to work their magic and create a convincing story.

  “You have to resign from your job now,” I stated matter-of-factly.

  “What? I don’t want to quit my job.” Georgie had to know, deep down, she wouldn’t be able to remain in her position. It just wasn’t possible.

  “Think about it. Your school will be hounded by press once we make the announcement. It’ll be a zoo. Do you want that to happen?”

  Georgie gnawed on her lower lip, working it between her front teeth. I saw her imagining the scene I described and knew the moment she realized that I was right. She sat back in the wooden chair and looked defeated.

  “What if you lose? What will I do then?”

  “You won’t need to look for another job. They’ll come looking for you.” I was confident that I wasn’t going to lose, though. I was only down in the polls by a few points, which could easily be made up now that I had a fiancée. Georgie was my ace-in-the-hole and once we announced our engagement, I knew my numbers would skyrocket.

  “Give me a week to get things settled?”

  “One week. I’ll have my team of spin doctors get started on your letter of resignation.”

  “Why? I can do that myself.”

  “Because it will become public record.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth curved into a tiny frown and I resisted the urge to kiss her. Then, as if by magic, her face transformed into a huge grin and she began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You called Lewis and Jenkins ‘spin doctors’. That’s exactly what I thought when I met them.”

  “Great minds think alike.” I glanced down at my watch. It was getting late and I cleared my schedule to drive out here and talk to her. I knew when she walked out of my hotel suite that she needed something more, something real from me, before she’d agree to this insane plan. Now that she took the leap, I had to get back to the campaign.

  “My press secretary will be in touch. And Sean Wallace, my campaign manager, will also contact you.”

  “Okay.” She suddenly looked scared, unsure of the agreement she had just made. I wanted to put the smile back on her face and the laughter back in her voice. But I had to win the election first. Maybe if we won… I stopped my thoughts from developing. I didn’t have room in my life for something permanent, only temporary.

  “I have one very important question to ask you, though,” I said.

  Her eyebrows immediately shot up, curiosity filling those huge green eyes that unmanned me whenever I looked into them.

  “What’s the question?” Her voice was cautious, with a subtle defiant tone, like she was ready for whatever challenge I gave her.

  “What’s your favorite Led Zeppelin song?”

  She laughed, a hearty sound that came from deep within her. Her head tilted back and she grinned, lighting up her entire face. Then she looked at me, shooting me right through the heart with two dazzling emerald green arrows. “Kashmir.”

  I approved.

  “I’ll see you in a few days.” And because I couldn’t help myself, I bent down to kiss her cheek softly before slipping my suit jacket back on and leaving her, looking like a deer in the headlights.

  Walking into school the next day, I had a stomach full of nervous butterflies. I felt physically ill at the idea of telling Paul Danville, the principal of my school and a man I considered a second father, that I was resigning and engaged to Jameson Martin. I knew he wouldn’t buy some bullshit story about Jameson and me secretly dating, so before Jameson left last night, I secured his permission to tell Paul the truth.

  “I know.” His response shocked me. I had spent a good twenty minutes explaining how I had met Jameson Martin and agreed to be his fake fiancée. My hands were sweaty and shook the entire time I relayed the story, and the butterflies only got worse the longer I spoke.

  “What do you mean? How could you already know?” Disbelief flooded my voice because there was no way that Paul knew about this.

  “Because I’m the one who contacted Jameson.”

  Apparently, I was meant to spend the entire week in shock. I imagined this meeting happening very differently. I certainly didn’t expect him to admit that he had been the one to contact Jameson Martin.

  “You contacted Senator Martin?”

  “Yes. I’ve been friends with his father for a very long time. We served together. When he told me about Jameson’s problem, I knew you were the solution.”

  “So have you just been waiting for me to show up this entire time?”

  “Yes. In fact, we already hired your replacement.” The school year didn’t start for a few more weeks, so there was still time to find someone to fill my position. Apparently, Paul didn’t need a few weeks.

  Suddenly, my life was being pulled out from underneath me. I had no idea what was happening and I knew for certain that I was no longer in control. How the fuck had this happened?

  “But I just agreed last night!”

  “I had a hunch,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulder. Paul Danville, a man I’d known for over half of my life, just shrugged casually, like this entire situation was no big deal. Well, it was a big fucking deal. His office suddenly felt small and a tightness grew in my chest. Holy shit, was this a panic attack?

  “I think…I think I’m just going to go home now. If that’s all right.” Concentration would be next to impossible for the rest of the day, which meant cleaning out my classroom could wait.

  “That’s understandable, Georgie.”

  We both stood and Paul came around to the front o
f his desk. He grabbed both of my hands before pulling me into an embrace, holding me tightly, like a father getting ready to give away his only daughter.

  “This is not the life they would have wanted for you, Georgie. They wouldn’t want you to be alone in that big old house. Your parents would be proud and so am I.” Paul let me go and then hurried back behind his desk where he busied himself with shuffling papers. I knew it was just a front to hide his watery eyes.

  I gathered my belongings and stumbled from his office, back to my car.

  I drove home in a daze, passing through the tiny town where I had lived my entire life. After college, I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. And truthfully, I needed these people to get through the deaths of both parents. Simultaneous deaths that continued to haunt my dreams at night.

  I took a moment to glance at the antique store as I passed it. It held many of the treasures I had to part with to pay for my parents’ funeral. The shop’s owner had sold very few of the items he bought from me and truthfully, I believed he purposefully tried not to sell them. I also believed that he had paid me much more than they were actually worth. Still, I held onto hope that one day I would be able to purchase them back. I thought about the great wooden desk that had been in my father’s study. That desk sat collecting dust in a storage unit not too far away. I tried to sell it, but the owner of the antique store refused to buy it. Suddenly, the image of Jameson sitting regally behind it, in the Oval Office, popped into my head. It made me happy to think that Jameson might one day use something that belonged to my father.

  I made one stop before home. I walked into the local grocery store where I had shopped my entire life. They made the best whoopie pies. I bought several different varieties, including my favorite: chocolate peanut butter. I also made a mental note to stop by the wine and beer outlet next door to stock up on a few bottles of my favorite zinfandel.

  “Rough day, Georgie?” The cashier, Sandy, scrutinized my purchases. She was old enough to be my mother and sometimes acted like it.

  “Yep.” I nodded as I slid my debit card into the machine. Some local high school kid I didn’t know bagged my pies and gave me a pitiful look. “Thanks, Sandy.”

  “Have a good one, Georgie.”

  The peanut butter whoopie pie didn’t even make it home. I ate it right there in the parking lot, sitting in my car. Then I drove to the one place where I could find peace and quiet, and maybe a little perspective: my family’s cabin in the White Mountains.

  “Democratic Presidential Nominee, Sen. Jameson Martin, is pleased to announce his engagement to Georgina M. Washington, of Exeter, New Hampshire. Sen. Martin and Ms. Washington will hold a joint press conference on Friday, August 21. At that time, they will provide additional details regarding their relationship.”

  This was the statement that my team released. Short. Sweet. Vague. We sent it out right away to all the media outlets as soon as Paul Danville called me to let me know that Georgie had resigned.

  “She was shocked, James.” Paul’s words were cautionary. She hadn’t expected the connection, which I assumed, and it worried him.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” I replied dismissively.

  “Jameson?” His tone was a warning; he had more to say.

  “Yeah?” I wasn’t in the mood for his fatherly lecture. I knew that he thought of Georgie as his daughter and when he approached the campaign with her name, his love and concern for her was evident in the way he spoke about her.

  “Take care of her.”

  “Paul, I’m not planning on—”

  He cut me off. “I know what you’re planning, James. But take care of her anyway.”

  “Of course.” I wasn’t planning on falling in love and marrying her, no matter how much I was starting to like her. She had been right, though, in her interview, when she said we hadn’t figured out what to do with her if I won. If I lost, ending our relationship would be easy. Wait a few months and then announce we had broken up. I’d take a little bit of heat, but it would die down quickly.

  If we won, though, I couldn’t break up with her. Then there was re-election to consider. Did I really want to tie myself to this woman for potentially the next eight years of my life? I didn’t have a fucking clue.

  When Sean Wallace, my campaign manager and best friend, walked into my office, I looked up at him expectantly. He was a few inches shorter than me, with a broad, burly chest and a shock of yellow blond hair that was constantly slicked back. He had bright blue eyes and an easy smile. Sean and I attended West Point together and then served side-by-side in Iraq and Afghanistan. He had saved my life countless times. After our last tour, we both went into politics. I chose to serve my country publicly while he decided to serve behind the scenes.

  Since Georgie’s resignation, no one could get in contact with her. She wasn’t home and she wasn’t answering her phone. Or returning emails. My fake fiancée was MIA.

  “Well?” It was all I had to say.

  “We found her. Her parents have a cabin in the White Mountains. She’s there, hiding.”

  “Is she going to be in Boston by Friday?”

  “According to her telegram, yes.”

  Telegram? What the actual fuck? “I hope you’re not serious, Sean.”

  “Relax, dude. The cabin has a landline. Took us fucking forever to get the number. I have verbal confirmation that she will be in Boston on Friday.” Sean sat down in the leather chair across from my desk and kicked his feet up, placing them on the edge of the desk. We were total opposites. I was often high-strung while Sean remained cool as a cucumber.

  “Good. Schedule the stylists to arrive two hours before the event to get her ready.”

  “Already done.”

  “How are Lewis and Jenkins coming along with the backstory?”

  “Still working on it.”

  “It needs to be tight.”

  “I know,” Sean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

  I was going over this more for my benefit than his.

  “And believable.”

  “I have expressed that to Lewis and Jenkins.”

  “This will ruin me, Sean. If the shit hits the fan and people find out that I paid her five million dollars to pretend to be my fiancée, then I’m fucked.”

  “I know!” he groaned impatiently.

  “Sorry, but I’m freaking out right now. You know this is important to me. I’ve worked too damn hard and sacrificed too damn much, only to be humiliated and lose the one thing I want more than anything else.”

  “Go for a run, James.”

  Sean was right. I needed to clear my head and the best way to achieve that was to push my body to its limits. Running helped me focus and escape the demons that still chased me, even while I was awake.

  I left my office ten minutes later in my running gear. With earbuds firmly in place, I began my run. I set a grueling pace as the unmistakable chords of “Kashmir” echoed through my mind. Hopefully, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant would exorcise some of the anxiety and fear over a risky bargain with a pretty blonde.

  I made the hasty decision to drive two hours north to immerse myself in how my life used to be. The cabin that my family owned still held the mementos from years of family vacations. Photos remained on the walls and crafts lined the shelves. Before I gave up my life entirely, I wanted one last chance to remember it.

  The White Mountains offered me no escape, no answers, and no perspective. Jameson Martin found me, even though I tried my best to hide from him. Or at least, someone from his campaign found me. The peace and comfort I longed for eluded me. A few days later, I sat in the back of a black SUV with heavily tinted windows, on my way to Boston. My life officially no longer belonged to me.

  “So, what’s the story?” I asked Jenkins—or was it Lewis?—during the journey.

  “You’ve been quietly dating. He proposed in London and he never mentioned a girlfriend or significant other until now because he didn’t want the press to needlessly hound you or show u
p at your school.”

  “How very alpha of him.” The romantic inside me twirled with delight. Protection. What girl wouldn’t want to be protected by the man she loves? Too bad we weren’t really in love. I sighed and looked out the window. “At least he did it in London. I was in London at the beginning of the summer.”

  “So was he.”

  “Good call, then.” I had no doubt that Jameson and his team of investigators knew every detail of my life. It worried me that he knew so much about my life but I knew very little about his. “Where did he propose?”

  “A private garden in Chester Square in Belgravia.” At least it wasn’t the London Eye. I was terrified of heights and wouldn’t be caught dead on it.

  “And my ring?” I looked down at the fourth finger of my left hand, wiggling it just a bit. It was currently bare and I wondered what Jameson would pick.

  “Senator Martin will let you pick it out. He sent for a selection from the best jewelers in Boston.”

  I was filled with disappointment. I didn’t want to pick out my own ring, even if it was a fake engagement. I wanted the ring to come from him; I wanted to know that he had personally taken the time to pick it out. I frowned and made a noise of disapproval before saying, “Call the senator for me, please.”

  Jenkins—I was sure of it now—reached into a canvas messenger bag and pulled out a phone. He pressed a few buttons and then held it out to me. I took it from him, holding it gingerly in my palm like it was a grenade. Finally, I held it up to my ear and waited for Jameson to pick up.

  “Lewis.” Dammit! I had been wrong. Well, now I knew for sure who I was riding with.

  “It’s actually Georgie.”

  “Georgie?”

  “Yes, the woman you hired to be your fiancée.”

  “I know who you are,” Jameson literally growled. “Why are you calling?”

  “Lewis said that I was going to pick out my own engagement ring. I want you to do it.”

  “You do?” He sounded surprised.