“Thus began the Bratva’s attempts on my life. They assumed that if I were removed, then the chaos and ensuing national crisis would derail the accord indefinitely. However, as you have now guessed, I’m sure, Mr. Masri and his investigative staff were able to connect the dots from President Abbas to the Bratva, the accord, and the assassination attempt. And so he resigned his post, gave up his citizenship, and asked us for asylum. Then, a few days later, another attempt was made on my life, and Mr. Masri stepped in front of that bullet.”
There was a small gasp from the room, and Jessica had to remind herself not to let her gaze wander from the camera lens.
“We gave the information Mr. Masri and our own intelligence efforts gathered to the prime minister of Egypt several days ago. He was able to confer with his parliament, as well as confirm the information, and tonight, with parliament’s approval, he instructed law enforcement to arrest President Abbas. The country is stable, our embassy there is safe, as are any American citizens traveling in the area, and we are working with the prime minister and parliament to ensure that stability is retained.
“You now know the full facts, and I hope that you also know that these attempts on my life were never a threat to the nation as a whole. It was the attempt of self-serving criminals to prevent their income from being jeopardized, nothing more. I also hope that you will not hold the nation of Egypt or its elected officials at fault for the actions of one man. Egypt is our friend and, in fact, a natural-born Egyptian, Mr. Masri, has been our best friend in all of this.
“And finally, I want to address the issue of my relationship with Mr. Masri. When I accepted the job of president, I understood that everything I did and everything I said was done as the president and needed to be considered accordingly. I did not get involved with Mr. Masri lightly, nor would I ever risk the security of the nation with a friendship of any sort.
“However, while I am your president, I am also a human being, and I am entitled to friendships and relationships just as anyone is. For those who think that this gives you the right to question my morals, judge my private behavior, or remark on my competence—it does not. If any member of Congress truly believes that they have just cause to investigate my relationship with Mr. Masri, then I will cooperate fully. Until such time, I’d thank Congress to stay out of my personal life and focus on the many issues that face our nation and the world at large.
“Thank you for listening, everyone. God bless the United States of America, and God bless each of you.”
The camera turned off, someone yelled, “It’s a wrap!” and the slow applause broke out not only around the room, but around the country.
Chapter 19
“Your girlfriend put on quite a show last night,” Derek said as he sat by Kamal’s bedside. “She defended you, told the country it was safe, bolstered Egypt, and gave everyone the middle finger at the end.” He chuckled. “It was pretty impressive.”
“What…are…you…talking about…?” Kamal muttered, his voice sounding like it was filled with sand.
Derek leapt out of his seat. “Fuck! Holy shit! You’re awake!” He dove for the call button on the table next to the bed, punching it repeatedly.
Kamal’s eyes slid open, and he looked at his friend—his haggard, disheveled friend. “What…happened…to you?” he croaked out.
Derek kept gawking at him, grinning like a madman and looking like he might actually cry at the same time.
“Jesus, man, you’ve been unconscious for eight days.”
“How…?”
“You were shot. Do you remember?”
Kamal’s heart nearly beat out of his chest, because yes, he did remember, every moment.
“Jessica…” He struggled to sit up. He had to get to her, make sure she was okay.
“Hold it, Mr. Masri,” a doctor said as she entered the room and strode to his bedside, her eyes scanning the various screens that sat next to him. “You need to relax for a bit while I see how everything’s going.”
“Jessica…” he wheezed again, his gaze desperate as it landed on Derek.
“She’s fine. You protected her. She’s perfectly fine,” Derek assured him.
“Want to…”
“Don’t worry, I’m calling her right now.” Derek held up his phone to show the screen, then put the device to his ear. “Vanessa? It’s Derek Ambrose. Tell the president he’s awake.”
Jessica’s heels slapped against the tile floors of the hospital as she ran through the halls, Secret Service agents on both sides and behind her.
“Ma’am, you’re going to wipe out in those damn shoes,” Peter huffed next to her. “He’s not going anywhere.”
She ignored him, her heart feeling as though it were going to beat right out of her chest. She swung around the corner into the last hallway and felt one heel slide on the slick surface, but she corrected and kept going.
“Jesus Christ,” she heard Peter mutter.
When she finally got to the door, though, she stopped, breathing hard, every nerve ending racing.
“I’ll go in alone,” she told Peter and the other agents as they waited in a group around her.
“At least let me check out the room, ma’am; then I’ll leave.”
“No. Mr. Ambrose is inside, it’s fine.”
Peter looked unhappy but acquiesced. Jessica slowly turned the handle on the door, took a deep breath, and walked through.
Her eyes landed on him immediately. He was sitting up in the bed, the tray table in front of him, a cup of water and some Jell-O on it.
“Madam President,” Derek said, standing from the chair next to the bed—her chair, she thought.
She knew she ought to address him, but all she could say was “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he answered, and then she was aware of him slipping past her, out the door, but only just, because her entire being was so focused on Kamal—on his eyes, his mouth, his breath, his heartbeats lighting up the monitor screen.
“Come here, love,” he said, his voice low and rough.
She put her hands over her mouth and shook her head as she stared at him, all the tension and fear and pain of the last week rolling through her in horrible, relentless waves.
“Jessica,” he commanded quietly. “Come here.”
She walked to him, and when she reached the bedside, she realized that she was shaking, not just a small tremor, but full-on violent shudders, from head to toe. Kamal shoved the bedrail down and swung his legs off the bed, reaching for her at the same time.
He pulled her into his arms before slipping an arm beneath her legs and settling her on his lap. Then he slid them both back into the bed, making soothing noises the whole time as she shook like there was an earthquake inside her.
“It’s okay, love. It’s all going to be okay now. I promise.”
She still couldn’t speak, only cling to him and listen to his voice—the voice she’d thought she might never hear again.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured, stroking her hair and squeezing her hip. He placed soft kisses on her temple and waited patiently while she recovered from the adrenaline that had overtaken her.
“How could you have missed me—you were unconscious,” she finally responded, sitting up so she could look him in the eye. “I was the one who was missing you. Eight days you made me wait. Eight days.” She smacked him on the chest, and he grinned at her.
“I was dreaming of you every second of those eight days. I dreamed of you and I couldn’t reach you, and it was sheer torture.”
She watched him, trying to discern if he was making things up or being genuine. “You did not.”
He pressed a palm to her face, his rough fingers sliding along her cheek before he swiped his thumb across her bottom lip, his eyes hot and liquid. “I did. And I wanted to touch you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“I tried to stay with you. I stayed for days, but you didn’t wake, and everyone was telling me I had to go back to the W
hite House. But I didn’t want to leave you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke. I never wanted to leave.”
“I know, and it’s okay. I would have told you to go back to work myself. You are too important to this country for you to sit at my bedside. You did the right thing. You did what you had to do.”
She lay silently for a moment, listening to the beat of his heart, remembering that she’d almost lost that lovely sound forever.
“I should be furious with you. You put yourself in front of that bullet.”
He held her and rubbed her back. “And I’d do it again, and again, and again. As long as I have breath, I will protect you.”
“But I don’t want to do this without you,” she whispered.
“You won’t have to. This will never happen again. You know that, right? It’s all over now. You’re safe. I’m safe. The country is safe.”
She nodded, and then they lay there, holding each other for a very long time, because they didn’t need words, they didn’t require proclamations. They simply needed one another, and if they had that, Jessica knew that she could conquer anything.
Chapter 20
Three months later
“Welcome home, Madam President—Mr. Masri.”
“Thank you, Vanessa. It’s good to be home,” Jessica answered as Kamal helped her out of her jacket.
“Sir,” Vanessa said, turning to Kamal. “While you were gone, we came up with an extensive list of your new responsibilities as well as some suggestions for who you might want to appoint to your staff besides Shamira.”
“Vanessa,” Jessica chided. “The First Gentleman just got off Air Force One. Maybe we could let him have until tomorrow before we start with the staff appointments.”
“No, no,” Kamal interjected. “This is fine, I’ve been making some notes as well, and I’d actually like to have meetings with the household staff beginning tomorrow so that they can tell me their various duties and plans.”
Vanessa looked relieved, and Jessica couldn’t help but smile. She’d had no idea just how much stress the White House staff had been under the last three years without a First Spouse to handle the household. She’d always trusted them to make the decisions, but apparently they really wanted someone in the First Family to do that for them, and they’d been ecstatic when Kamal had asked her to marry him after he was released from the hospital.
They walked through the house toward the West Wing. “Ma’am, I know it’s late in the day, but I’m hoping I can get you to make a few quick decisions before you go to the residence for the night.”
“Of course. I realize a weeklong honeymoon comes with a price.” She turned to Kamal. “I’ll just spend a couple of hours, if that’s okay.”
“Mr. Masri might want to stop by the First Gentleman’s offices. We took the liberty of rearranging some furniture so that the offices are a bit more masculine. And Shamira came by to advise us. She chose which pieces could stay and which needed to go. She seemed to feel that you strongly dislike anything gold, so that’s been removed entirely.”
Kamal grinned, and Jessica rolled her eyes.
“She’s correct. Thank you, Vanessa,” he said with a little bow. “I believe I’ll go take a look and start reviewing your suggestions for my staff.”
“I’ll send some tea up to you, sir.”
As Vanessa walked with Jessica down the hall, she kept up a rapid-fire list of items requiring Jessica’s attention. It had been a whirlwind wedding on the White House grounds, and a weeklong honeymoon spent visiting various dignitaries throughout Europe, but she was home, and duty called. Jessica sighed, then remembered that when she went upstairs for the night, the sexiest man she knew would be there as well, ready to take charge and give her exactly what she needed.
Kamal walked into the residence and pulled off his tie, draping it on a coatrack inside the front door.
“Sir, I’ve set out dinner in the dining room, and the refrigerator is stocked so you can fix yourself whatever you’d like as well.”
“Thank you…Meghan, is it?”
“Yes, sir.” The woman smiled shyly.
“Are you off now?” he asked as she made her way to the door, pushing the rolling food cart from the kitchens downstairs.
“Yes, sir. My shift ends at eight.”
“Have a good night, then.”
“Thank you.”
After she left, Kamal walked through the empty living quarters, noticing bits and pieces of his belongings placed amongst the things Jessica had brought, as well as the things that belonged with the house. He made his way to the dining room and surveyed the covered platters that contained dinner. He was starving and wondered if he’d have to go collect his wife from her office when he heard the front door open and shut.
“Is that you, love?” he yelled.
“Yes! Coming!”
In a moment, Jessica walked into the room, and just as it did every time he saw her, Kamal’s heart took an extra beat. She smiled at him, her hair slightly disheveled from traveling, and her feet bare. She had a bad habit of removing her heels in the Oval Office and leaving them under her desk. Kamal had already trained the staff to look under the desk each night and leave the president’s shoes outside the door to the residence so that Jessica could find them in the morning.
He gathered her into his arms, planting openmouthed kisses along her neck and jaw. “I missed you,” he murmured.
“It was only two hours.” She shivered as he caught her earlobe between his teeth.
“That’s two hours too long, Mrs. Masri,” he rumbled, his hand inching its way up her leg and underneath her skirt.
“What are you going to do when we both have to go back to work tomorrow?”
“Lunch sex,” he growled as he lifted her and set her on the edge of the dining room table.
She shrieked and laughed while he shoved her skirt up to her waist and tore her blouse open, sending buttons flying everywhere.
“Oh dear God, the staff will wonder why all those buttons are on the floor.”
“I don’t care,” he said as he slipped her breast out of the cup of her bra and leaned down to suck one pert nipple into his mouth.
“Mmm. Oh. Yessss,” Jessica muttered as his tongue circled her areola, and then he sucked harder.
He slid his hand inside her thin silk panties, and his thumb found her clit in moments, pressing the tiny bud as she moaned. Using two fingers, he checked her core and found her hot, wet, and waiting for him.
“Thank God, you’re ready. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
“Yes, please.”
He unbuckled and unzipped, and his cock sprang free, hard as a two-by-four and throbbing with need for the sexiest woman in the free world.
“Heels on the table,” he commanded, smiling as she complied. He would never tire of the rush of telling the world’s most powerful person what to do.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, kissing her ravenously as he found her entrance and slid inside.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “I’ll never tire of this, never.”
She wiggled against him as much as she could in her compacted position, knees alongside his forearms, heels on the edge of the dining table.
He leaned her back slightly, one of his arms still clamped firmly around her waist, while the other hand supported them against the table. He pumped in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, his breath catching each time she squeezed his cock or rocked against him.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Jessica Hampton Masri,” he whispered in her ear.
She threw her head back, her long neck stretching out before him. He licked all the way up until he reached her mouth, where he crushed his lips to hers and mimicked the motion of his cock with the motion of his tongue.
“God, need to…” she gasped.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded, his voice harsh with need.
She slipped one hand between them and pressed on her clit, coming apart almost imm
ediately, groaning his name into the empty room as he pumped harder and faster until he stilled, every muscle tensed, breath held, heart suspended between beats. And then he came, hard and long, roaring his love for this woman as if his very life depended on it.
When the aftershocks had faded, they both collapsed onto the table, his body bowed over hers, both breathing hard.
“I think my hair is in the butter dish,” Jessica gasped, laughing.
“I think you broke me,” Kamal replied.
She laughed again, and he slipped out of her, missing his favorite place in the world almost immediately.
“I have faith in your recovery powers,” she said, shoving at him to get up so she could slide off the table.
He watched her shimmy her skirt back down with a glimmer in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. But I need to eat first, or I’ll never last for another round.”
“The table isn’t too hygienic at the moment.”
“That’s why there are trays and a bed.”
Ten minutes later, Kamal had dinner on two trays, and both he and Jessica were in bed eating. He wore his boxers, and she had one of his dress shirts on with nothing underneath.
“This might be the best dinner I’ve eaten all week,” she said as she scooped a large forkful of rosemary mashed potatoes into her mouth.
“It’s the sex,” Kamal remarked.
Jessica laughed, and he thought that it was the most musical sound in the world. One he would adore hearing every day for the rest of his life.
“I love you, Madam President,” he said softly, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.
“And I love you, Mr. Masri,” she answered.
Jessica was grateful, the party bigwigs waited until her honeymoon was over. However, though she wished she could credit them with being considerate, she knew it was really because they were waiting to see how she polled after marrying the former Egyptian ambassador, who, while not Muslim, was from a Middle Eastern country, brown skinned, and with the remains of a British accent. She knew the party had to be sure Kamal’s otherness wouldn’t be a detriment to their objectives.
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