When they did push their agenda, it was five days after she returned from her wedding trip, and they sent the one person she’d never been able to say no to—her father-in-law.
“Madam President,” John senior said as he entered the Oval Office and kissed her on each cheek.
“Senator. It’s so nice to see you again so soon after the wedding.”
“Well, Marjorie has decided that I’m healthy now and finds me annoying if I sit at home too much. I thought I’d stop into town and visit you as well as have lunch with the boys and girls from South Carolina. That asshole Deke Sheppard from our fourth district has taken a stance on this new carbon trading initiative that’s asinine, so they asked me to help lobby him a bit.”
“Well, I’m glad you could stay with us while you’re in town. Kamal had the staff make up the Lincoln Bedroom for you. I don’t think you’ve ever stayed there, and he thought you’d enjoy it.”
“And how is that new husband of yours?” John said, taking a seat and patting the sofa next to him for Jessica to join him.
She sat down, slipping off her shoes and tucking her legs up on the sofa too. He gave her a fatherly pat on the knee, smiling as she talked.
“He’s taken to the job of First Gentleman like a pro. He’s already chosen his cause—sensible gun reform—and has the staff working so efficiently that they’ve cut the time it takes to do maintenance on the property by ten percent in less than a month.”
“Well, running the White House must be very similar to running the embassy, so I’m sure he’s excellent at it. And as a victim of gun violence himself, he’ll have sway with those on the fence about reform.”
“Yes.” She looked at him with her eyes narrowed. “Now. Tell me why you’re really here, John. Because as much as I know you love us and DC, I don’t buy for a minute that you came all this way for lunch and a night in the Lincoln Bedroom.”
His smile faded, and his eyes grew serious. “You’re right, I’m not here simply for fun. The party sent me, Jess.”
“I’m shocked,” she deadpanned.
“You know there isn’t anyone who can replace you. We’re going into primary season, and while we have Kimpter and Hernandez running, neither one of them can beat the opposition. Neither one of them has what it takes to lead the country.”
She sighed.
“You do, though. You do, and now you even have a partner. Someone to help govern the country, to be your sounding board and support you. You have everything you need to be the president for another term, Jessica, including my last name.”
He looked at her with soft eyes then, the blue faded beneath his white eyebrows, the skin on his face powdery with age and lined with experience.
“I loved my son.” His voice cracked, but he soldiered on. “He was a fine man and would have been a great leader for this nation. But I believe you’ve been a better president than he would have.”
Jessica couldn’t help the small gasp that came from her lips.
“John had idealism and ambition and desire. But Jessica, you have heart and determination and empathy. I wouldn’t wish what you’ve suffered on anyone, but I think that it makes you a better president. I think that it gives you an understanding of what others are going through that a son of wealth like John might never have had.”
Jessica bit down on her lip, pausing for a moment to process his words.
“I never wanted the job, though,” she said.
“I know, but now that you’re here, and you’re excellent at it, and you have Kamal to stand by you, couldn’t you rethink the possibilities? Your country needs you.”
“I can’t give you an answer right now,” she said. “I need to think, and to talk to my husband about it.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“But I will give you one—a final one—before you go back home on Sunday.”
“Thank you,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. “And Jess, no matter what you decide, Marjorie and I support you—both of you. We’re lucky to have you as our daughter. Nothing will ever change that.”
“And what do you think?” Kamal asked after Jessica explained her conversation with John senior.
“I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I think that maybe I should do it.”
Kamal hummed, stroking her hair where her head rested on his shoulder in bed.
“A lot of things have changed since I took office, not the least of which is that I married you. Having a partner in all this gives me a strength that I didn’t have before.”
“You always had it. It just wasn’t as fun,” he murmured. “It’s not strength you get from me, it’s regular sex—that makes any job easier.”
She smacked him lightly on the chest and giggled as he rolled her onto her back, gazing at her with devotion.
“But seriously, I feel very different than I did three years ago. I feel like I’ve earned this job, not just inherited it.”
“Because you have, love.” He kissed her on the nose. “You’ve proven time and time again that you are smart and competent and measured. You have weathered battles with Congress, assassination attempts, and public censure, and come out of it all stronger than you were before. Your approval ratings are at an all-time high, and the Millennial Accord is one of the most promising treaties in Middle Eastern history.”
Jessica sighed as Kamal kissed down her throat and reached her breast, planting tiny kisses all around her nipple before taking it into his mouth.
“And you?” she asked, her voice breathy with need. “How would you feel about four more years here?”
He released her with a small pop. “Darling, I’ve only just started in my new duties. Four more years would allow me to actually accomplish something. I have plans for a redesign of the grounds that would reduce water use and make the park much more comfortable than it is now, plus the production of more than half the food used in the White House from the grounds themselves.”
She wiggled, settling his hips between her open thighs just where she liked them. “There’s only one thing that makes me sad about the idea of staying,” she whispered in the dark.
He gazed down at her, wiping his thumb across her cheek, tenderness in his eyes.
“And what is that?”
“I had hoped that when we were done next year, we could talk about children.”
His smile was warm. “And why can’t we do that and serve another term in the White House?”
“How would I have time to raise a baby and be president?”
“The same way any working mother does, with very little sleep, a devoted husband, and hired help.”
“Do you really think?” Her heart raced with excitement at the thought.
“I think you can do anything, Madam President. Anything at all.”
Epilogue
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Kamal asked.
“It’s a little late now if I don’t,” Jessica answered as she fastened the last button on her coat.
“It’s never too late, love. Just look at our lives. We’re the living proof.”
“Are you ready for him, Mr. Masri?” a plump older woman asked.
“Of course I am,” Kamal said, smiling as the nanny handed him his four-month-old son.
“There’s my sweetheart,” Jessica cooed, bending down to kiss the tiny cheeks that were the only thing showing beneath the infant’s winter gear. “I can’t believe how much he’s grown in just a few weeks. He was so thin at the orphanage.”
The baby gurgled and smiled at his mother as his father bounced him a couple of times in his arms.
“As good an orphanage as it was, Egypt often doesn’t have the resources needed for the littlest ones. You know that for an infant to thrive, it needs to be held and loved. Peter wasn’t getting everything he needed those first few weeks, but now he is, and he’s fat and happy, and his mother needs to get moving because the ceremony can’t start without her.”
“Did you call me, sir?” Peter said, turn
ing from his post a few steps away.
“No, I was referring to the baby.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I told you it was going to become confusing. You should have never named him after me. It’s embarrassing.”
“Get used to it,” Jessica said, smiling. “We’re not going to change it.”
“Madam President,” the chief justice of the Supreme Court said as he looked behind the large partition that screened the backstage where Jessica and Kamal stood. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said, kissing her baby and then her husband. “I am.”
They walked onto the stage, amid the cheers of a crowd that went on for blocks. Massive television screens were set up all around the National Mall, lit up with the beautiful face of America’s first woman president. Jessica stood, hand on the Bible in front of her, Kamal and little Peter at her side, as the chief justice read the words. Then she repeated them, for the second and final time in her life. But this time was so very different. This time it was still for her family, and for the people, but it was also for her, because she really had become the president, only her, and she owed it to herself to finish the job.
“I, Jessica Marie Hampton Masri,” she said, voice strong, eyes clear. “Do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
THE END
Thank you for reading! I loved writing this book and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have a couple more minutes, I would be so grateful if you would leave a review for at the retailer of your choice. It doesn’t need to be long, just a couple of sentences are so helpful. It makes it easier for other readers to decide if they want to try out this book, and helps me with things like advertising.
As a Thank You, I’ve given you a chapter from The Kingmaker on the next page, and two chapters from the first book in my Rhapsody series after that. Enjoy!
Sample from The Kingmaker
Washington’s most famous political consultant just met the woman who might bring him down…
He's America's golden boy. A power broker. A Kingmaker.
She's America's dirty little secret. A sex broker. A scandal maker.
Together they are headline news.
Lies, deceptions.
A presidency hangs in the balance.
Then, there is the chemistry.
It's combustible, incendiary, explosive.
She.
Will.
Ruin.
Him.
He might not care.
Chapter 1
He stared at a pair of legs—long and shapely, with dark olive skin that glowed in the low light of the room. They ended in a pair of very strappy stiletto-heeled shoes, and toenails the color of a fine burgundy. Unfortunately, those spectacular legs were currently pressed against a wall while his client—his very married client—mauled the owner of said legs in a swanky hotel suite in southwest D.C.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Derek groaned as he stood in the doorway viewing the clusterfuck that had just exploded all of his plans.
“Unh,” Jason Melville grunted as he stopped ravishing the woman’s neck and raised his eyes to gaze over his shoulder at his very pissed campaign consultant. “Derek,” he gritted out. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Derek slammed the door and strode across the room to glower at Jason and the woman splayed against the wall.
“What exactly is it then, Jason? Because it looks to me like you’re about to screw a woman who is not your wife hours before we’re supposed to announce your candidacy for President of the fucking United States. Did it ever occur to you that she could blow your entire campaign to hell before it even starts?”
Derek’s gaze drifted from Jason’s rapidly reddening face to the brunette he had pinned, hands above her head, against the expensive wallpaper. As Jason released her and she straightened her clothes with a huff, Derek could see that the rest of her was as exquisite as her legs. Classic bone structure covered with smooth as silk, flawless skin. Exotic eyes the color of dark chocolate, tipped up at the outside corners, the lashes long and luxurious. And below all of that, a pair of tits that would tempt any president—well, maybe not the current one, since she seemed to swing toward men.
“I’m a professional escort,” she hissed. “And I’ll have you know that I’m very discreet. I would never discuss a client’s business with anyone, whether he’s the president or a janitor.”
Jesus. A hooker? Could it get any worse?
“Look, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re the picture of discretion, but the presidency is not something to risk over a tumble with an escort.” He squeezed out the last word like he could hardly tolerate saying it, and her cheeks turned pink in response, her mouth tightening and eyes narrowing.
Jason exhaled a big breath and stepped further from the brunette.
The woman pursed her plump lips and nudged Jason out of the way before brushing by Derek, heading for the bathroom, her perfectly firm and round ass swaying in the pencil skirt that hugged her like a second skin.
Derek whipped around to glower at his candidate who blatantly adjusted himself in his $1000 Armani dress slacks.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Derek snarled. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“I’m under a hell of a lot of pressure,” Jason muttered. “And I’m tired of being the only one in D.C. who doesn’t get to indulge a vice once in a while. I need a goddamn way to relieve the stress.”
Derek walked to the thermostat on the wall and turned on the AC to rid the room of the scent of the hooker’s perfume, which was perversely turning him on even in the midst of his anger.
“Well, if this is how you handle your stress, I’m not sure you’re cut out to be president. While indulging a vice, as you put it, may be commonplace in D.C., it also nearly always ends in scandal that ruins careers. Particularly for a young, good-looking candidate with little kids at home. Do I need to mention Gary Hart and John Edwards to you?”
Jason grabbed his jacket off of the bed. Derek heard the water turn on in the bathroom and wondered exactly how much money he’d have to cough up to make this woman go away, and how long it would be until she came around again wanting more.
“London is known for her discretion,” Jason said as he unrolled his shirtsleeves. “No one will ever find out.”
Derek raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. I’ll stop, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I won’t see her again, and I’ll be a good boy and jack off in the shower instead. God knows Angela’s not going to help me out.” Frustration rolled off the Senator in waves, almost palpable in the re-circulated air of the room.
Derek thought of Jason’s Patrician blonde wife and their two preschool-aged children. His stomach churned. Why the fuck did these guys get married if they weren’t going to make the commitment? It wasn’t essential to have a wife in order to be successful in politics these days. He shook off the thoughts and focused on the problem at hand.
“How much?” he asked.
“How much what?” Jason responded, searching for something on the floor next to the bed.
“How much do you normally pay her?”
Jason muttered, “Got it!” in triumph and stood to put on a pair of diamond cufflinks. “London? She’s a grand an hour.” He checked his watch. “And she’s been here about twenty-two minutes.”
Jesus. A grand? The last time he’d gotten laid, Derek had spent fifty bucks on two cocktails, and then taken the pretty young reporter home for a couple of hours before sliding her into a taxi and saying goodnight. Final total? Maybe a hundred dollars. A grand seemed excessive.
“So how much do you think it’s going to take to keep her quiet?” he asked.
Jason ran a hand through his perfectly disheveled dark hair tipped at the temples with the first smatterings of gray—hair dye to lend him more gravitas—and cocked his head
at Derek.
“She won’t talk. Really.”
“Bullshit,” Derek answered just as the woman in question emerged from the bathroom looking every inch the respectable wealthy D.C. wife, a perfectly fitted plum-colored business jacket molded to her hourglass figure, her thick hair in an upsweep, and those sexy as hell strappy shoes still attached to her perfect legs.
“I won’t talk,” London repeated, casting him a dismissive look.
Derek turned to her, fury simmering only slightly below the cool as steel façade he’d worked to develop and maintain for fifteen years.
“Look, I’m sure you’re a lovely escort, very trustworthy and all, but you have no idea what kind of investment I’ve made in Jason here. One wrong word, one wrong look, or a secret shared between you and one of your ‘friends’, and his career, as well as mine, are shot to hell.”
“I don’t tell secrets to friends or anyone else, and I’ve never looked wrong at someone in my life.” She paused. “So what are you going to do now? Kill me?” Her left eyebrow lifted and he could see the spark of derision in her face.
He rolled his eyes at her. “We’re not on House of Cards, sweetheart,” he answered drolly. “How much will it take to have you leave the country for a few weeks?”
London smirked. “Really? You want to pay me to take a vacation even though I have absolutely no intention of saying anything to anyone ever?”
“It’d make me feel better,” Derek answered.
“Fine. I’ve always wanted to do the Bahamas. So, what? Ten? Twenty?” She looked at Jason before striding over and adjusting his tie. Jason’s face lit up and he licked his lips as he looked down at her like a piece of prime grade steak.
Derek’s rage bubbled up threatening to explode. “Senator!” he snapped. “Eyes on me.”
London snorted delicately and stepped away from Derek’s candidate.
“Jesus,” Jason’s face flushed. “Just pay her and get it over with,” he snapped before he stepped out of the room swiping the screen of his phone as he went.
POTUS: A Powerplay Novel Page 23