At the Pleasure of the President

by Shayla Black

  “I shouldn’t be happy about that. But I am. Does that make me a terrible person?”

  “It would if she had feelings for me.” Zack needed Elizabeth to understand that he and Joy hadn’t had any sort of normal marriage. “I’ve talked to her about you. She knows I’m here today asking if you’ll see me after the election. She’s the one who told me to order the vodka gimlet for you. She said it always puts you in a better mood.”

  Elizabeth laughed, the sound magical to him. She was the single most radiant woman he’d ever met.

  “Well, she knows me.” Elizabeth shook her head, but she wore a wry smile. “This is surreal. This is crazy! I had no idea you felt this way…”

  “Is that a yes? I know we should probably wait a while, but I don’t want to. I want to finish out this campaign and get on with my life.”

  “By going on a date with me?” Her tone told him she was wowed by that notion. “Yes! But you should know, Senator Hayes, that I’m a lady. I require a man to be a gentleman.”

  Hey, it was practically his nickname. “I have no problem opening car doors and holding your seat for you. You’ll find me exquisitely polite.”

  “You already do all those things. I know how exceptionally well you take care of a woman in public. But that’s not what I meant. I’m definitely going to require you to be a gentleman in bed. A perfect one,” she insisted, and he wondered if she knew every word out of her mouth was heating his blood. “And I don’t mean polite, Zack. Underneath all that civility, I know there’s a bad boy. I want that part of you—and all the others you keep hidden—to myself.”

  His groin tightened and he was even more glad he’d reserved a private dining room. “I want to kiss you.”

  “I want that, too,” she admitted breathlessly. “But not here and not now. Not with Joy and the cloud of the election hanging over our heads. I want it to be special. I want to know when we kiss for the first time that we don’t ever have to stop again.”

  “Agreed. Where would you like to go on our first date? I say we steal Gabe’s plane and head to Paris. I’ll get a room with a view because you probably won’t get out much.”

  He’d meant to go slow, to ease her into a relationship, but she’d just hit the gas and he didn’t have any intention of pumping the brakes, not when it meant he could have her—and soon. He wasn’t a man given to impatience, but then he’d never craved anyone the way he did Elizabeth.

  “Paris sounds lovely, but I’ll be happy with the view from my side of your bed.” She gave him the flirtiest grin he’d ever seen.

  He’d suspected that, under her gracious charm, she would be sexy and sassy. No playing coy games. Elizabeth wasn’t girlish, after all. She was pure woman, and he suspected she would take him on the ride of his life—one that would last for the rest of his days.

  Finally, he had no doubt that he and Elizabeth were perfect for each other. She would make all the difference in his life because now he would have more than his ambitions. He would have his friends near and his soul mate beside him.

  Reassurance and contentment wrapped a warm hand around his heart and cradled his soul. Suddenly not being the most powerful man in the world seemed pretty damn sweet.

  He sat back and repositioned his napkin in his lap as the waiter appeared on cue to take their order. He couldn’t stop smiling. Despite the decades and the dramas, he felt like a dumbass kid again—this time, one with the world open to him.

  Tonight, he could give his stump speech with perfect confidence. He would say and do all the right things. Shake hands, kiss babies—and it wouldn’t do a damn thing to win him the election. In a few more days, he would be free. Then Elizabeth would be all his.

  He sat back and stared at her, barely holding in a smile. She did the same, her gaze eating him up from under her long lashes as she “accidentally” bumped his foot under the table. Life was good. The promise of tomorrow was right in front of him, so he was content to simply be near her—for now.

  * * * *

  Later that night

  Liz stood numbly in the middle of the nondescript hallway of the hospital, unable to move. Hell, she could barely breathe. She kept replaying the sound of gunshots in her head.

  “Ms. Matthews? You’re Senator Hayes’s media consultant. Do you have any update on his wife’s condition?” a reporter she vaguely recognized asked. “Is she expected to live?”

  Someone pressed a microphone in Liz’s face. The lights glared too brightly. She blinked and froze.

  God, she made a living responding to the press on Zack’s behalf, and she was damn good at her job. But right now, she was dumbfounded. She could hardly focus on the question, much less a coherent answer. All she could manage was an endless looping replay of Joy falling from her chair, her body limp, blood splattering everywhere.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” a deep voice admonished.

  Connor Sparks moved in, and suddenly the camera was out of her face.

  She caught a glimpse of men in black suits swarming the area, their eyes mirrored by identical aviator sunglasses, despite the fact that night had already fallen.

  The Secret Service agents hustled the film crew out in seconds. Liz watched, processing in slow motion.

  Had it really been mere hours ago that she’d sat in a restaurant with Zack, planning their future?

  Connor turned to her. “Are you all right?”

  God, he had blood on his shirt. She recoiled, even as she knew she had to get it together.

  “Where’s Zack?” The question slipped out, then she shook her head. She shouldn’t ask about him first. “And what about Joy? Is she out of surgery?”

  Joy wasn’t dead. She was alive. She had to be. The paramedics had gotten her to the hospital within minutes. Liz hadn’t seen them move her, but she’d seen the mob of first responders on the stage working to save the woman’s life.

  Connor’s face went blank. “No one’s told you?”

  Her stomach took a dive. “Told me?”

  “Liz! Liz!” a familiar feminine voice called out.

  Augustine. Her dear friend stood at the end of the hallway, held back from entering by security guards.

  God, she needed Gus.

  “Let her through,” Liz implored the uniformed sentries. “Please.”

  They didn’t move.

  “Let her through.” At Connor’s command, the guards parted like the Red Sea for Moses.

  Immediately, Gus rushed down the hall, for once looking less than perfect. Her usually impeccable caramel hair was in a haphazard ponytail. Normally, she was dressed to the nines. Tonight, she’d thrown on ripped jeans and a simple white T-shirt.

  “I caught a friend’s private jet and got here as fast as I could,” Gus said in a rush. “Oh, god, Connor. Tell me it isn’t true. Moments ago, the media said…they said she’s gone. Joy’s gone.”

  A shocked sob stuck in Liz’s throat as she whirled to Connor. Since he’d just left Zack’s side, he would know. But no, it couldn’t be true…

  Maybe they were deceiving the press. That made sense. They didn’t want anyone to know that Joy was okay. Because she had to be alive. Joy was sweet and kind. God, she’d had tea with the woman this evening before Zack had taken the stage. That woman couldn’t be dead.

  “Joy died on the operating table. Single gunshot to the heart.” Connor’s tone was softer than she could ever remember hearing it. He put a bracing hand on Gus’s shoulder. “Zack… They had to sedate him. Liz, I know this isn’t fair, but someone has to make a statement. It can’t be Zack. I can’t do it. I’ve already been filmed too much tonight. Roman is…”

  “Oh, god.” Tears flowed down Gus’s face. “Roman can’t do it. I will.”

  But this wasn’t Gus’s job.

  “No.” Liz shook her head. “I’ll do it. I just need a couple of moments to think this through.”

  Because what she said next would be important. It would be everything.

  Connor stared down at her. �
��Are you sure? Liz, do you understand what’s happened?”

  He wasn’t asking if she understood that Joy had been murdered. He wasn’t ensuring she grasped the fact that someone had attempted to assassinate Zack and offed his wife instead. He wanted to make sure she knew full well that one act of violence had shifted the balance of power forever.

  She glanced over at the large-screen TV in the waiting room. It was filled edge to edge with the shocking moments following the shooting. Yes, the footage showed panicked people scurrying for safety. But in the middle of the stage—and plastered across every TV in America—the video played something real, something heartbreaking and visceral.

  It displayed Zack Hayes holding his dying wife, his face a mask of shock and anguish. It revealed him in his most human moments.

  “Zack is going to be president,” Liz murmured. “We’re going to win the election.”

  They would be swept into the White House on a wave of sympathy.

  History had been changed with a single bullet.

  At her side, Gus nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll help you. Let’s fix your makeup.”

  “No. I go on like this. I’m not going to clean up a thing. I want the public to see what was done today. I want them to feel it. Connor, brief me on everything we know about this tragedy. I’ll take questions.”

  Gus squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right by your side.”

  But Zack would not. He would be the president of the United States.

  So she would remain alone.

  * * * *

  Mad and Sara

  Manhattan

  Three years later

  “Are you sure you have to go?” Maddox Crawford wasn’t usually anxious, but the evening had kind of gone to hell. It was supposed to be peaceful, damn it. This was the penultimate evening, the night before his engagement. Engagement Eve. Not that Sara Bond knew that. It was a secret he’d only let Augustine Spencer in on.

  He’d shared the info on the down low with Gus because he hadn’t trusted himself to buy the right engagement ring. Despite his ridiculously privileged upbringing—or maybe because of it—he tended to think big when it came to jewelry and forgot about things Sara would value, like elegance and good taste. Apparently, shoving a diamond the size of his fist on a band of the most expensive platinum wasn’t the way to go. Who knew?

  So that was why he had a half a million dollars’ worth of princess-cut diamond set on a pavé-encrusted rose gold band sitting in his dresser drawer, nestled in its velvet box, just waiting. Tomorrow night he would drop to one knee and beg the best woman he’d ever met to marry him. He’d done everything he knew to make the event romantic and sweet…but he’d hoped he would be spending Engagement Eve doing nasty stuff to his soon-to-be bride. He needed to remind her that while he came with some baggage, he also came with a super flexible tongue that could vibrate at just the right speed. Sure, she might be able to find some other scandalous billionaire who would love her—because who wouldn’t?—but she wasn’t going to find his tongue on any other man.

  Of course, he’d already done the one thing that might ensure she married him. He’d gotten her pregnant. Not on purpose…but that fuckup didn’t hurt his cause.

  Two days earlier, she’d cried and admitted her “terrible” state. He’d figured out he was supposed to be upset. So he’d frowned and told her they would make the best of it. Mentally, he’d danced a fucking jig and high-fived himself, then started planning exactly how he’d close that trap behind her forever.

  Sara turned to him with a groan. “Yeah, I have to. I’m sorry, babe. I’m exhausted and I have to be up super early for that meeting. Besides, I know what will happen if I stay at your place. You’ll do that tongue thing and I won’t ever get out of bed.”

  At least they agreed on that. “You don’t have to go to the meeting at all, you know. I happen to know the boss, and he’s cool with you missing that sucker. In fact, you can have the meeting moved to my place.”

  Her warm chocolate eyes held mirth even as she rolled them. “Oh, that will impress my manager. The other employees are already whispering and speculating. Once we attend that gala tomorrow night and everyone realizes we’re together, there will be even more gossip. Is it too much to hope that people will be more interested in your new head of security? I haven’t met her yet.”

  Oh, but she would. “Everly Parker will do great things. I’ll set up a meeting between the two of you when she gets back from the conference she’s attending this week. She’s young and smart.”

  She was also his half sister.

  He’d discovered the affair his normally good-for-nothing father had engaged in with his secretary years before. It had sparked an investigation that had led him to discover his shared blood with Everly. Unfortunately, he was almost certain she had no idea the father she’d grown up with hadn’t given her his genes. Mad wanted to tell her sooner rather than later…but he had no finesse. Luckily his almost fiancée had it in spades. Once he and Sara were engaged, he would get her advice on how to not freak Everly out. Because if he plopped his ass on a corner of Everly’s desk and suddenly said, “hey, sis, Dad was a bastard, wasn’t he?” she would probably lose it.

  Sara grinned up at him. “Excellent. I’m glad you’re hiring more women. If Gabe doesn’t do the same, I’m going to protest outside my own family’s company. I swear, if I have to sit through another board meeting where some rich, entitled guy mansplains the world to me, I’m going to turn homicidal.”

  He loved her idealistic side. “You know those rich guys kind of run our world.”

  “Not when women like me and Everly Parker start taking over,” she shot back. “I’ve been thinking… We should steal Augustine from Zack.”

  He also loved how confident she was. Sara knew damn well he and Gus had been fuck buddies for years and she didn’t feel threatened. It probably helped that he’d explained most of those late-night booty calls had been more about needing to not be alone than wanting sex.

  Mad pulled Sara to his side, wanting his hands on her. Soon they would be at her building and he would have to let her go. “No can do, baby. I worked too hard to get her that job at the White House.”

  She cuddled close. “Why? I always assumed Gus would head Crawford legal one day. I would try to convince Gabe to hire her, but we’re too small. Gus needs serious red meat. You get sued way more than we do.”

  Ah, but soon they would share all those fun lawsuits—along with their lives. “I sneakily convinced Roman to hire Gus because he’s been in love with her since we were kids.”

  He was sick of watching those two wreck their lives. If they didn’t get it together soon, he was fairly certain they would both end up alone and miserable, and his tender heart couldn’t take it.

  He’d figured out long ago that all the biblical stuff about time was right. There was a time to be born and a time to die. A time to enjoy strippers and cocaine, and a time to get married and not do either of those things anymore. Roman didn’t understand that lesson yet, but he was going to.

  Sara sat up as the limo rolled to a stop. “Huh, that kind of makes sense. I thought Roman loved Joy, but he always seems more alive when he’s near Gus.”

  Exactly. Roman was a dumbass for refusing to admit that. Not that Joy hadn’t been lovely, but Mad had never been as enthralled with her as the rest of the gang. She’d seemed so implausibly sweet that her demeanor sometimes felt false. Sara was sweet like pure cane sugar. Joy had been saccharine.

  “Roman and Gus had an affair a long time ago.” The rest of that story was theirs to tell. He owed Gus his silence about the baby she’d lost, but he could use Sara’s help to play cupid. “I don’t think either one of them got over it.”

  Sara cupped his face in her palms. “You are not at all who I imagined you were. You are so much kinder and more thoughtful. You’re loving and charming and… You’re everything, Maddox Crawford.”

  He was glad she thought so, but that was only because he w
as so good at hiding the fact he was a needy asshole. “I wasn’t until I met you.”

  She leaned in and brushed her mouth over his. “You met me when you were twelve.”

  “And that was the day I became a man.” He put his hand on her belly.

  God, he couldn’t wait until he could feel their child there. Sara was going to be so gorgeous all round and full, and he was going to be the best dad-to-be ever. He would rub her feet and agree with everything she said.

  He would be the kind of dad he’d always wanted, one who loved his wife and kid. One who put them first.

  She laughed, the sound filling his soul. “I love you. And now I have to go. We’re really on for the reception at the Met tomorrow night? No second thoughts?”

  Oh, they were so on. The Met was one of his favorite places. He’d found solace there as a kid, and he couldn’t wait to share it with his own. But tomorrow night would be even more perfect. The Met was debuting a new exhibit, one that Crawford Industries had sponsored. Tons of socialites and gossip writers would be there, so it was the perfect event for him and Sara to go public and announce their engagement.

  “None at all. I’ll pick you up at seven.” When she pulled away, he tugged her back. “Hey, you don’t have to go yet. You know, we could do it right here.”

  She groaned, but her smile was wide as she maneuvered out of his grasping hands. “We can’t.”

  “I’ll be quick.” But he wouldn’t be. He would get her under him and not care that they were sitting in the middle of Park Avenue making the ground shake.

  “I’ve always said you were the devil, Maddox Crawford.” The door opened, and his driver helped her out of the car. “See you tomorrow.”

  He hated letting her go. After tomorrow, he would never have to do it again. He would be an engaged man, and he would make sure Sara understood that when she accepted his monster good-taste ring and his last name, she’d also accepted his neediness.

  Mad also hoped she accepted what would likely be his latest lawsuit because he was going to fire Tavia Gordon as soon as he figured out her scheme. Something fishy was going on with the Crawford Foundation… But he refused to think about that now. Instead, he watched as Sara walk into her building, the doorman closing the door after her. She was safe for the night. And it was his last one without her.