by Marie Force
“I’m trying.”
“I’m here if you need me. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need backup of any kind.”
“Thanks, Cap. I’ll let you get back to work.”
Malone nodded and took off toward his office while Gonzo headed back to the pit to check on the status of the investigation. The sooner they found the knife wielder, the sooner he could see about marrying the love of his life.
Chapter Four
The “car” Lilia sent for Sam was a black SUV with tinted windows, driven by one Secret Service agent while another rode shotgun. The thought of a Secret Service agent “riding shotgun” was funny to her, but she didn’t think they’d be amused by her little joke. They hadn’t said much of anything to her since they arrived at the house and whisked her away.
She wondered if they disliked her because she’d chosen to forgo the protection normally afforded the nation’s second lady. Didn’t that mean less work for them? The devil in her wanted to ask their thoughts on the matter, but she didn’t dare. Everything about this situation was new to Nick—and to her—and she didn’t want to do anything to cause him any heartburn. Well, any more heartburn than she’d already caused.
They drove through the gates to the White House, where the officer in charge waved them through. Upon pulling up to one of the many entrances, the car came to a halt and the driver jumped out to get her door. A young woman with a dark bob waited to greet her. She wore a pale pink suit, which had Sam immediately thinking of Shelby, along with pearls and sensible heels. Her big dark eyes were serious as her lips curved into a welcoming smile.
“Mrs. Cappuano,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Lilia and it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“You’re Lilia?”
Seeming baffled by Sam’s remark, she said, “Why yes. I am.”
“I had you pegged as a sixty-something blue hair with a ruler in her hand, determined to whip me into shape.”
“Did you, by any chance, go to Catholic school?”
“Briefly. It wasn’t a good fit.”
Lilia laughed, and Sam decided not to hate her on sight. In fact, it was possible she might even end up liking her.
“Right this way,” Lilia said, leading Sam inside the freaking White House. “Let me show you to your office.”
“I have an office? In the freaking White House?”
“Ma’am, you’re the second lady of the United States. Yes, you have an office.”
“Call me ma’am again, and we’re going to have a falling-out.”
Lilia pursed her lips, perhaps trying not to laugh. “Understood.” She cleared her throat and recovered her professional demeanor. “The second lady’s office is normally housed in the residence, but as you are not using the residence, space has been assigned to you here.”
“Space” turned out to be a suite that included a rather grand room for her. “Wow,” Sam said as she took in the office that consisted of a gorgeous dark wood desk and matching bookshelves, a credenza that held a vase of fresh flowers, carpet with the presidential seal and portraits on the wall of other women who’d held this office. There was also a sitting area consisting of a sofa and two wingback chairs arranged in front of a fireplace that had been lit in anticipation of her arrival. For the first time since Nick’s promotion, it registered with Sam all of a sudden that she really was the nation’s second lady.
Watching Nick take the oath of office in the House chamber hadn’t done it. Having her house overrun by Secret Service hadn’t done it. But this… An actual office in the White House… That was about as official as it got.
“We hope you like it,” Lilia said. “We weren’t sure of your taste as far as furniture goes.”
Sam snorted out a laugh. “If you could see my office at HQ, you’d understand that I have no taste when it comes to office furniture, and this is lovely.” She ran her hand over the smooth finish of the desk, thinking of the metal contraption she used at work. Unlike her desk at HQ in which none of the drawers opened properly, she’d bet every drawer in this desk opened the way they were supposed to.
“Are you interested in meeting the rest of the staff?”
“Sure.” While she waited for Lilia to gather the troops, she went to smell the flowers on the credenza. A flurry of activity behind her had Sam turning to greet the three women who walked in with Lilia, all of them young, attractive and smiling warmly.
“This is Andrea, your director of communications and spokesperson, Mackenzie, who oversees your schedule and travel, and Keira, our policy specialist.”
Sam shook hands with each of them. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“We’re so happy to meet you,” Andrea said enthusiastically. Tall and shapely, Andrea was blonde with hazel eyes and a bright smile. She wore a tailored blouse with a pencil skirt that showed off her killer body.
“I, um, I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to get in here. Things have been a bit, um, busy.”
“We were horrified to hear what happened to you,” Mackenzie said.
“Thank you, and thank you for the flowers and the card. It was very nice of you all.”
“Let’s have a seat,” Lilia said, gesturing to the sitting area.
When they were settled, a man came in with a tray that contained coffee and an assortment of Danishes. Sam waited for them to dig in, but then realized they were waiting on her. These women were nothing like the cops she worked with who would’ve devoured the entire plate in less than a minute. “Please, go right ahead.”
While they helped themselves to coffee and a snack, Sam said, “What have you all been doing to stay busy while I wasn’t available?”
“We’ve been fielding inquiries about you and assisting the First Lady’s staff on a number of initiatives,” Lilia said, reciting a long list of projects Mrs. Nelson was personally involved in. “Of course, you’re our top priority, and we’re looking forward to hearing your thoughts about how you’d like to be involved.”
Sam’s brain went completely blank. How she’d like to be involved? In what? “I’m not really sure what you mean. The job, er, my job, keeps me pretty busy when I’m not on medical leave.”
“We so admire the work you do, Mrs. Cappuano,” Keira said.
“Thank you, but please feel free to call me Sam.”
All eyes turned to Lilia. “I believe that would be appropriate when we’re behind closed doors, but it would not be appropriate for us to call you that in public.”
“Fair enough. So here, in the office, I’m Sam, okay?”
Their heads bobbed in agreement even if they seemed uncomfortable by the informality.
“As the second lady,” Lilia said, “you have a built-in platform that could be used to draw attention to issues and causes that are important to you. For instance, Mrs. Nelson’s son is a captain in the army so she is particularly involved in organizations that support military family members and veterans. She’s active in the arts and has promoted reading and literacy programs for elementary students across the country.”
Immediately intimidated by the staggering list, Sam said, “Wow, she keeps busy.”
“She’s a very active first lady,” Lilia said.
“Are there issues that interest you that you’d like to lend your name and support to in order to build awareness?” Mackenzie asked. She had long reddish-brown hair, brown eyes and pale white skin that would require SPF 100 sunblock.
“I, ah…” How personal did she want this to get? Did she want to lend her name to her issues or choose others that struck less close to home? If she were going to do this and get involved at this level, she supposed there ought to be some passion so she didn’t come off disingenuous. “Spinal cord injuries and research.”
“That’s a great one,” Keira said. She was petite with light bro
wn skin, long dark hair and a smile that lit up her brown eyes.
“My dad is a quadriplegic.”
“Yes, we know,” Lilia said. “We probably ought to tell you there isn’t much we don’t know about you.”
“Yikes,” Sam said with a good-natured grimace. “That’s kinda scary. You might be surprised to hear me add learning disabilities and infertility concerns as well as adoption and support for law enforcement to my list.”
“Those are all very worthy causes, but before we officially add them to your list and make the list public, I need to prepare you for what you’re taking on,” Andrea said. “Specifically, I need to know if you’re willing to speak publicly about how each of these issues has played a role in your life.”
“Speak publicly?” Sam asked, her voice squeaking on the last word.
Andrea smiled. “If we tell the world you’re interested in these issues, you’ll be in even hotter demand than you already are to appear and speak at events, to participate in fundraising, to become the face of your issue areas for the next four years and possibly beyond. You have the opportunity here to bring light to each of these areas.”
“Light,” Sam said. “What kind of light?”
“Attention, funding, recognition,” Andrea said. “You can start a national conversation in each subject. You and the vice president are the most popular second couple in the history of the office. Your poll numbers are through the roof.” She held up a stack of paper. “Interview requests and invitations received in the last week. These are just the latest. Every media outlet in the country is clamoring for an interview with you and your husband. We’ve been overwhelmed with requests.”
“And that’s unusual?”
“It’s highly unusual for the vice president and second lady to get as much—if not more—attention than the president and first lady,” Andrea said.
“More,” Sam said. “Than the Nelsons?”
“Much more.” Andrea handed the pile of paper to Sam. “You can go through these at your leisure and let me know what, if any, appeal to you.”
Lilia handed Sam several business cards. “Our email and cell phone numbers are on there. We’re available to you twenty-four hours a day.”
“Don’t you have lives?” Sam asked, incredulous.
“Our lives are devoted to you for the next four years,” Lilia replied without an ounce of guile.
“This is all a bit, um, overwhelming, I guess you might say.”
“We don’t mean to overwhelm you,” Mackenzie said. “But we’re very excited about the opportunity to work with you, to learn from you, to help you take full advantage of your new role. We’re at your disposal.”
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”
“We have a few somewhat urgent matters to address with you,” Andrea said. “Including the bio you’d like us to use on the White House website, an appointment with the White House photographer to take your official portrait and the agenda for the inauguration events.”
Sam took a deep breath and blew it out. She could do this, right? Of course she could. She caught murderers for a living. What was a bio and photo when stacked up against that?
* * *
By the time her staff—and she still found it surreal that she had a White House staff—had finished with her, it was close to five o’clock and already dark outside. “Would it be possible to meet with the vice president if he’s available?”
“Of course,” Lilia said. “Let me check with his office and if he’s free, we’ll walk over there.”
Left alone in the office, Sam took the papers Andrea had given her and sat behind the desk, feeling oddly official all of a sudden. She began going through the interview requests from some of the biggest magazines in the world—Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, Town & Country, Vogue, Working Mother, to name a few.
“I thought there had to be a mistake.”
At the sound of his deep voice, Sam smiled, but didn’t look up from what she was doing.
“When they said my wife was here and looking for me… I thought, my wife? Here? Are pigs flying in hell? Is it snowing in the desert?”
“Hahaha,” she said, smiling at him as he came into the office, closing the door behind him. “You’re going to start a scandal among my staff by closing the door.”
“They may as well get used to how we roll from the beginning.”
“Good point. Come on over here and say a proper hello to your wife.”
He crossed the room, came around her desk and leaned over to put his hands on the arms of the chair. “What would constitute a proper hello?”
Sam curled her hand around his neck and brought him down to show him what she had in mind. The instant his lips met hers, everything else faded away and there was only him. How he managed to do that to her every time they were together was one of the greatest and most amazing mysteries in her life.
When he drew back many minutes later, his cheeks were flushed and his lips wet from their kisses. “I believe there may be rules about making out in the White House.”
“You’re the vice president now. You need to do something about those archaic rules.”
“I’ll get right on that. What’re you doing here, babe?”
“Trying to be a good wife and second lady.”
“You’re a great wife and a great second lady.”
“Said the man clearly blinded by love. I’m neither of those things as you well know.”
“Why would you say that? You’re an amazing wife to me and mother to Scotty. We wouldn’t trade you for anyone.”
“You’re very sweet for saying so.”
“I’m hardly being sweet. You’re the only woman I’ve ever had even the slightest desire to marry. Doesn’t that say something about how awesome you are?”
“I suppose it’s a pretty good testimonial.”
“How’d you get here?”
“Lilia sent a car for me and they brought me in. Good thing because I wouldn’t have had the first clue where to go. They’re all very nice,” she said, gesturing to the outer office.
“What’s all that?” he asked of the papers on her desk.
“Interview requests. Apparently, I’m in hot demand.”
“You and me both.” He reached for her hand and when she took it, he pulled her up and led her to the sofa. Sitting beside her, he turned to face her. “Tell me what’s really going on, Samantha.”
“What do you mean?”
“This,” he said, waving his arm to encompass the room, “is not you.”
“Maybe it’s the new me.”
“I liked the old you who was screaming at me to do something about the woman at the White House who was calling to schedule meetings you wanted nothing to do with.”
“So you don’t expect me to be supportive of your new job?”
“There’s supportive and then there’s this. You coming here without being dragged kicking and screaming is unexpected, to say the least.”
“I was getting bored at home.”
“Then go back to work, but don’t do this for me. I don’t expect it.”
“I know you don’t, but she called and they sent flowers when I was injured and they were really nice today. They talked to me about how I can use my—our—notoriety to bring attention to issues I care about. It doesn’t totally suck to think about bringing awareness to spinal cord issues, learning disabilities, infertility struggles, law enforcement challenges and adoption.”
“You’d be an amazing spokesperson for any of those causes, but do you know what that would entail? Being a spokesperson?”
“I’m told it requires speaking. Publicly.”
Nodding, he said, “Among other things, such as interviews for print and television, intrusive questions about what these issues hav
e meant to you personally. I just want you to be prepared for what you’d be getting into.”
“I hear what you’re saying, and I have thought about what we might be able to do in these new roles. If me giving a few speeches and interviews about spinal cord injuries leads to more funding, advanced research, better treatment, then I’ll do it. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Um, because under normal circumstances you’d rather have the skin peeled from your body with tweezers than willingly meet with the press.”
Since she couldn’t deny the truth of his statement, she didn’t try. “You like me better that way? Kicking and screaming and bitching about all the many ways your new job is putting me out?”
“Frankly? Yes, I like you better that way. This docile Stepford wife thing is not you. It’s not my wife.”
“Well,” she said, looking down when tears suddenly—and unexpectedly—filled her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not what you want.”
“Samantha! Oh my God! How can you say you’re not what I want? I want you madly, desperately. I want you all the time. What I don’t want is you pretending to be someone you’re not to make me or anyone else happy.”
“I’m not sure where I belong anymore,” she said softly. “When I’m at home, I feel like I should be doing something else.” She wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek. It made her feel weak and out of control of her emotions. For that she blamed Stahl. “So I came here thinking maybe I’d find something to do until I figure out what I’m going to do about work.”
“If you want to be here, legitimately want to do the work, then please, by all means, do it. But please don’t do it for any other reason than because it’s what you want.”
“I liked them,” she said of her staff. “They were very nice and welcoming and opened my eyes to some of the things that might be possible while you’re in office. Some of it interests me. Some of it doesn’t.”
“As long as you’re doing it for the right reasons, I’m thrilled to have you taking a role. But the minute you’re ready to go back to work, that’s what you ought to do. Don’t let any sense of obligation to me or my job get in the way of that.”