I slumped against the edge of the bed. He was right; I’d have to deal with the inequality in our relationship one way or the other. “Fine.”
“Most women are excited about shopping, Georgie. I don’t understand what the big deal is about the money. When we get married, everything that belongs to me will become yours.”
“That’s different, Jameson.”
“I don’t see any difference. You don’t have to be my wife in order for me to support you.”
“Ugh. This conversation is driving me toward the kitchen and the chocolate chip cookies that I know are hiding in the Teddy Roosevelt cookie jar.”
But I didn’t leave the room because cookies weren’t the answer, even though they really seemed like it. Jameson would never understand what it felt like to be dragged in the press the way I was because he was a man. He didn’t face the same level of scrutiny; no one accused him of sleeping his way to the White House.
“I’ll ask Avon to help me. Maybe we can go shopping between visiting schools and hospitals.” I caved because it was the only thing to do.
“You’re going to start visiting schools?”
“And hospitals,” I added.
“But what about hiring your staff? Getting tours up and running?”
“I hired a chief of staff. I really feel like I need to be seen doing positive things to escape all the horrible things that are being written about me and our relationship.”
“Georgie, a chief of staff isn’t enough. The previous first lady had like a staff of thirty-five people.”
What the hell? What did all those people do? Mallory was enough for now. I’d hire more people when the time came.
“I’ll take care of it, Jameson. Just let me have this little bit of freedom, okay?”
Nothing else was said, and silently, I claimed victory as Jameson relented. I scurried into bed, eager to plan out the next few weeks. When Mallory arrived tomorrow in the East Wing to officially begin her job, she’d have an inbox full of requests waiting for her.
Jameson
I woke up to an empty bed, and that disappointed me. Since Inauguration Day, everything has essentially been on overdrive. We both had the morning free, and after a disastrous dinner last night, all I wanted to do was get lost in a heated round of what Georgie called “kiss and make-up sex.” But she was gone. So instead, I rolled out of bed and got ready for the day. Just because I had a rare morning free didn’t mean the world stopped turning.
I made my way down to the East Wing where Georgie was officially posted. I stopped just as I reached the threshold of her office. Edison’s confirmation. Shit. That was today. I didn’t need to confirm it, but I stepped into her office anyway. She wasn’t there.
“Is Maple on Capitol Hill?” I asked the Secret Service agent who constantly shadowed me.
“Yes sir. The first lady is attending Mr. Edison’s confirmation hearing.”
Storming out of her office, I headed for the West Wing.
I pulled out my cell phone and sent out a text to Sean, Elias, DeWayne, and Lewis and Jenkins.
ME: Situation room. 10 minutes.
I arrived first and tuned the televisions that were on constantly to the only news channel that televised congressional proceedings 24-7. And there she was, my fiancée, sitting behind Maxwell Edison. Not two or three rows back, or even in the back of the committee chamber, but front and center, directly behind him. And he was turned toward her; they were talking and smiling like the whole fucking world wasn’t watching.
“What’s happening?” DeWayne asked in a panic as he strolled into the room. “I wasn’t alerted to anything.”
“This. This is what’s fucking happening!” I pointed at the TV set as I shouted. Lewis and Jenkins walked in just as I sent the remote flying across the room.
“Whoa. Calm the fuck down, dude. Who bombed us now?” Sean was next to arrive and stopped right in front of the television just as Georgie reached out to rub Edison’s shoulder. “Never mind.”
“Is this seriously happening right now? Is my fiancée really sitting in a committee hearing with another man? I mean, fuck, they look like they’re flirting!”
The scene on the television sickened me. There was clearly a break in the hearing, otherwise they wouldn’t be talking and laughing with their heads bent toward each other intimately. I saw red the moment Maxwell Edison covered Georgie’s hand with his. It was too much for me.
“Why don’t you marry her already?” Sean’s blunt question shocked me out of my anger. I stared at him, confused.
“You’re acting like a jealous asshole right now, James. Why don’t you just haul her down to the Supreme Court and put a ring on her damn finger?”
I felt like everybody was always asking me that question. When was I going to marry Georgie? I knew she was constantly thinking about it too. After the chaos of the election, our marriage was probably expected. A wedding was just a distraction from the important work we were just beginning.
“Let me know the moment she returns.” And then I disappeared into my work, because obsessing over how much time Georgie spent with Max Edison wasn’t an option.
I waited for Georgie to return all day. The hearings only last a few hours, three at the most. At the three-hour mark, I checked with the East Wing, and she had not returned. And then back to work I went, trying to make heads or tails of complicated treaties and trade agreements.
When another three hours passed, I checked in again, this time with Secret Service. No Georgie. So I spent that time reviewing an arms agreement.
Georgie walked into the Oval Office just as the sun was beginning to set over the Capitol. From my window, I could see the entire city bathed in an orange glow. It was a magnificent sight that I wish I could have enjoyed. Instead, anger and disappointment clouded my vision.
“Where have you been?” I growled, not bothering to look back at her.
“You’re the president. I’m pretty sure you know where I’ve been,” she flippantly replied.
“Goddammit, Georgie!” I roared, spinning on my heel and slamming my fist down on my desk. “You are my fiancée and that doesn’t mean you can leave and go to Capitol Hill, sit in on a hearing for one of my cabinet members, and flirt with him like a fucking teenager.”
“I didn’t flirt with him!”
“That’s not what it fucking looked like on television. That’s not what all the gossip sites are saying about you.”
“I don’t give a shit. I was there to support him.”
I was on the verge of losing what was left of my temper. Despite what she might think, I was holding back. I sat down in the plush, leather desk chair and closed my eyes. Silently, I counted to ten and regained some of my composure.
“Georgie, we serve the American people. We’re here because the American people believed in our vision for the country. Isn’t that enough?”
“Of course, it is, Jameson.”
“Then act like it. If that means you have to be here to hire staff members or plan state dinners, then that’s your job. That job takes priority over everything else.”
Georgie staggered back as if she had been slapped. It gutted me to see her look so defeated. I knew she felt like I was lecturing her, but she needed to understand her new role and responsibilities.
“I know how eager you are to work with Edison, to start making a difference, and that will come. But right now, you’re needed here. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be.”
Georgie sat there with a stunned look on her face for a long time, and that silence worried me. It was a hard truth for her to accept; that we served the people, and there was very little time for anything else. I hated that we were spending this time at odds with each other.
“Georgie, please, say something.”
“Of course, Mr. President.” She finally looked me straight in the eye, and I saw something new. Disappointment. Her green eyes were dull and cold and filled with disappointment. Then she got up and left.
“Georgie! Stop!” Miraculously, she hadn’t made it very far down the hallway, and she stopped walking. “Why are you angry?”
She pivoted on her heel and charged toward me. “Why am I angry, Mr. President? I’m angry because, once again, I’m sacrificing something that I love for you. I have given up nearly everything to constantly be at your side, supporting you, cheering for you. You promised me, Jameson. You promised I could have this back, and now you’re breaking it.”
Her words, laced with bitterness, stunned me. I stumbled back against the wall and looked up at her. She was equally shocked with what had just tumbled from her lips.
“I thought this was what you wanted, too. I thought that, once everything changed, this was your dream, too. Do you not want to be first lady anymore, Georgie? Do you want to end this?”
“Is that what you think, Jameson? That I don’t want this anymore? The only thing I want to be more than first lady is to be your wife. But I don’t want to be left behind to plan state dinners. I want to do all of those things and more but I’m trying to figure out what that role is going to look like. Just be patient with me.”
Relief coursed through my veins. She still wanted me, still wanted to be my wife, and still wanted this life. This was new to us both. I held out my hand to her, hoping she would accept it. “I can’t do this without you, so whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”
Georgie slipped her hand into mine and tugged me forward. Her arms snaked around my waist, and she laid her head on my chest. “This is the only place I truly want to be, Jameson.”
The next morning, Sean brought bad news; not a single senator wanted to vote in favor of Edison’s nomination. Half of me was glad. If his nomination failed as a result of his messy personal life and his shady relationship with Global Education Initiatives then I was off the hook. I kept my promise to Georgie. The other half knew that Georgie wouldn’t settle; this was her guy and she wanted him come hell or high water. That meant I was going to Capitol Hill to call in a few favors and promise some of my own. By the end of the week, Maxwell Edison was the newly installed Secretary of Education.
Georgie—Six Months Later
The transition to life in the White House evened out a bit after Jameson and I had our blowout in the West Wing. I focused on my new duties as the first lady, and I found joy in certain aspects of my job. My priority became to finish hiring the rest of my staff. The demands of my new duties quickly overloaded Mallory. There was so much planning and preparation for the dinners that I loathed, but Mallory loved. We were the perfect team, but that team needed more members.
What I loved the most were the daily tours. Quite often, much to the dismay of the Secret Service, I dropped in on them to provide my own special tour. Jameson was still very much the “people’s candidate,” and I wanted to maintain that, even though the election was over. By interacting with the visitors who came to the White House, I showed them that we were still listening. These interactions invigorated me and helped me engage with the personal stories that I missed hearing. If I had to wait for Jameson’s green-eyed monster to disappear to become fully vested in our country’s plan for education reform, then I could focus my energies elsewhere.
At night, when Jameson and I had a few spare moments to rehash our days, I’d tell him about the things I wanted to do. Most of the time, I needed his approval. Even though I was the first lady, there were still things I couldn’t do on my own. These nightly talks strengthened our partnership. In Jameson, I found someone willing to listen to my ideas. He often knew people who could help or offered alternative suggestions if what I wanted to accomplish was too farfetched.
“You want to talk to Senator Aiello about that,” Jameson told me one night after I approached him with something that weighed heavy on my mind. I met a woman on one of my surprise visits, who had been trying unsuccessfully to get more resources for her town to help with addiction awareness. Her son had died from an overdose of prescription painkillers, and she found the city where she lived offered very few resources for those struggling with and recovering from addiction.
“Senator Aiello might seem like a dick, and he is, but his son is in recovery, so he cares,” Jameson informed me. “If she can’t get any help from the state, then Senator Aiello will help.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, jotting down his name in my notebook.
“I’m happy to see you so involved with these people. You’re doing amazing work.”
His feedback was welcomed and appreciated, but I was afraid to admit that helping random people sort out their issues wasn’t completely satisfying. I itched to do more, to be involved at a deeper level.
“Jameson, Max Edison asked me to join him for a few meetings. Is it all right if I attend?” Diplomacy was my only option, and even though I despised asking him for permission, I knew it was the only way to tame his rampant jealousy.
“What kind of meetings?” He sounded distracted, and I looked over at him to see him studying a file of information intensely. His brow was wrinkled, and his mouth frowned deliciously. He wore his thick black-framed glasses, which I adored, and his chest was bare; he wore only a pair of ancient West Point sweatpants. He was so delicious and handsome that I didn’t want this conversation to end up in an argument. I wanted it to end up…differently.
“He’s meeting with the presidents of the NEA and Teach for America to discuss teacher preparation programs. He believes that reform should start there, and I agree with him.”
“Max believes this? So are you constantly talking to him?” Jameson removed his glasses, squeezed his eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he looked directly at me.
I simultaneously felt both guilty and angry. The way Jameson was looking at me and the way he spoke to me made me feel like the back and forth communication that I’d been engaged in with Max was somehow illicit. But I was also furious because I should be able to talk to someone without feeling ashamed.
“Jameson, stop acting like a goddamn caveman and just say yes. Even though I’ve been here, planning state dinners and hiring staff, I’m still communicating with Max. I’m still involved in what’s happening. But out of respect for you and our relationship, I haven’t pushed for more.”
“I appreciate that, Georgie. I really do. And I don’t have a problem with you attending the meetings because I know that you put all that on the backburner while you settled into your new position.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes because, at this moment, I didn’t feel like his equal. I felt like his employee rewarded for a job well done. “Thank you so much for your approval, Mr. President.”
Next to me, Jameson groaned and rolled his eyes. “Georgie, don’t act like that. I didn’t know that you and Max Edison were in frequent contact. You don’t discuss it.”
“Maybe because every time I try to bring up the subject, you start acting like a jealous baboon.”
Jameson turned so that his entire body faced me. I had to look away; I couldn’t have this conversation with him shirtless and his muscles all sexy and tense. “Georgie, I’m not going to apologize for not wanting to share what’s mine. I almost lost you to one psycho asshole.”
“That’s…sweet, Jameson. I love when you go all alpha on me—”
“Don’t patronize me, Georgie. This is not me being some raging alpha. This is me protecting you. This is me not wanting to see you get taken advantage of by some ambitious prick.”
“If you don’t like Max, then why did you nominate him?”
“Because I promised you that I would. He was the best candidate, and I want the best working for me. It doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
I slid my hands up his naked chest and tossed a leg over his thigh so that I could straddle him. We were nose to nose, staring right into each other’s eyes. Aquamarine and emerald.
“Jameson, I’m not going anywhere. You have to trust me.”
James
on’s large hands skimmed my thighs and disappeared under the silky satin nightgown that I wore to bed. His thumbs grazed the insides, brushing against the edge of my panties, and I shuddered involuntarily at his touch. He tilted his head and nipped at my chin before kissing a trail down my neck.
“I do trust you,” he growled while freeing his cock from his sweatpants. He fisted it, stroking its full length until he was completely erect. He pushed aside my underwear and thrust himself, without warning, inside me. “I just don’t trust him.”
I tightened my grip on his shoulders and adjusted myself until I was fully seated on his cock. A few seconds passed while I adjusted to the fullness of him buried deep inside. And then I rode him. I rocked back and forth in a filthy erotic dance, grinding myself against him. And then I leaned back, supporting myself with one hand while stroking my clit with the other. Jameson let out a heavy breath.
“Fuck me,” he moaned.
“Oh, I am.”
Jameson batted my hand away and replaced it with his, flicking and rubbing my clit with his talented fingers. I supported myself with both hands and pumped my hips up and down. He used his free hand to grip my hip, holding me steady while I worked his length, letting him slide out all the way to the tip before plunging myself down to the base.
“When did you get so dirty?” he murmured, his voice rumbling and low.
“The moment you became a caveman.”
Jameson grabbed the hem of my slip and pulled it up and over my head, tossing it aside, and then wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest. He placed light kisses between my breasts and then over the swells until he made his way down to the nipples. He sucked one into his mouth, pulling it taut before letting it pop out of his mouth. He repeated this action until both nipples were rosy pink tips poking out proudly. He flicked them, increasing their sensitivity. He repeated this over and over until I started to squirm. Each time his mouth landed on me, a jolt of electricity surged right through me and straight to my core.
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