Billionaire's Amnesia: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #9)

by Claire Adams

  I could hardly think. I reared up on my seat, turning toward him once more. “So. This meeting—it’s over?” His face broke into a sort of sad, evil smile. I suddenly realized that this man had taken advantage of me in nearly every way possible. He’d tried to ruin my life, and everything still wasn’t working so well for him. He grinned, but I saw the instability in his smile. His teeth were brown.

  I got a bit daring, then, just as I placed my hand on the handle of the vehicle. “So you’re—you’re planning on meeting with the president for what reason, exactly?” I asked him, spinning my head around once more. I tapped my heel against the plastic on the side of the car.

  But his face broke out into an angry grin then. He shook his head. “Ah, no. You won’t fucking ask me questions like that.” He reared up, as well, and leered toward me. “You don’t have the right to ask me things like that. I know it.”

  I bowed my head, feeling so angry, so horrified. I suddenly became certain that he only wanted this meeting so that he could hang the photos over Xavier’s head. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want Xavier to know that I was being manipulated. Surely he would think that I was stronger than that. But of course, I wasn’t.

  I bit my lip and pushed myself from the car, out into the street. I spun around and watched the limousine speed away. I felt my sanity dipping away as it fled.

  I didn’t know how long I would be this puppet. I felt like I was going to be strung along forever. I turned back toward my apartment. When I reached the table, I poured myself the largest glass of wine of my life. I had to drink away my sorrows. I had to fall away from this existence. Perhaps in the light of the morning, I would discover another realm of possibility. I could understand what to do.

  Chapter Six

  The next day, I sat at my desk, across the churning room from Jason. I watched as Xavier walked toward him and leaned down, whispering something to him over the chaos. Jason nodded curtly and turned back toward his computer. It was so rare that I saw them talk; I wasn’t sure what was going on.

  But then, Xavier turned toward me. His eyes were bright. I could feel him analyzing every single cell of my body. I felt naked in front of him. I licked my lips and turned back toward my computer, trying to find something to think about, something beyond my sheer infatuation with the President of the United States.

  But then, his shadow appeared before me. I looked up, acting surprised. My voice came out so slowly. “Hello, Mr. President.” I could hardly hear myself.

  “Amanda,” he said. His face looked so open. “I just wanted to check in with you about—about the other day.”

  A bit spastically, I waved my hands in front of my face. “No, no. Mr. President. It’s fine. I’m just—I’m a mess right now. The campaign is going really well, but at the cost of my sanity, I’m afraid.” I gave him my surest smile—the smile that told him I had everything under control. But God, I didn’t.

  He nodded. I wanted him to take my face in his hands; I longed for him to kiss me so deeply, in a manner that forced my knees to dip to the ground. I bit my lip, wishing him to both go away and stay.

  Stay.

  But he remained, for better or for worse. “Jason’s doing an okay job, isn’t he?”

  I turned my head toward Jason, watching him as he spewed into a phone, his face red. “He grows angry easily,” I murmured, gesturing.

  But Xavier placed his hand in the air, in a fist. “I suppose you must have passion in this business.”

  The words hung between us like a cloud. I longed to tell him, then. I wanted to tell him that Jason was terrorizing me; that he was the only person who knew about our one-night stand. (Because, at the end of the day, what else was it? It was a one-night stand. It couldn’t be termed anything else.)

  Suddenly, two Secret Service agents appeared on either side of the president. One whispered in Xavier’s ear. Xavier’s eyebrows rose, and he turned toward him, speaking loud enough for me to hear. “Well, did you tell her I’m working?”

  My mind began to rush. Was he talking about his wife?

  The Secret Service agent whispered in his ear once more. His voice was so low, I assumed it was in some sort of code.

  “Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,” Xavier stated then. His voice came gruffly from his throat. He casually rolled his eyes toward me, like we were sharing a secret joke.

  I nodded, feeling my hair as it ruffled up against my neck. “I’ll see you later, Mr. President,” I murmured casually, watching him as he walked away. I felt nearly like swooning for a moment. God, this was all too much.

  I turned my head back toward Jason then. He was still at his desk and he slammed his phone onto the wood, his hair in a mess above his head. I felt confidence surging through me. I plucked myself from my desk and walked toward him, feeling my firm shoulders waving this way, then that. I sniffed toward him, leaning over his desk with such femininity, such confidence. I knew he couldn’t handle it—that his confidence came and went with his sliminess.

  But he leaned toward me, seemingly unperturbed. “Amanda. Can I do something for you?”

  “Actually, you can,” I whispered. “I would love to speak with you in the other room, campaign manager. Just if you have a moment.” My words were laced with sarcasm.

  He stood then. “Lady can’t keep her hands off me,” he muttered toward me, making another snide remark.

  But I turned and led him toward the back office—the same office in which he’d revealed the photos to me all those days before. When the true terror of my life had begun.

  I closed the door then, trapping us in there together. I turned toward him and brought my arms together in front of my chest. I cleared my throat before I spoke, tracing my eyes over his sloppy body. He was in such strange contrast to the president.

  “How long do you plan on holding these photos over my head, Jason?” I asked him then. My voice was high-pitched, but laced with such anger.

  He raised his eyebrows toward me. “Now, that isn’t the language I want to hear from my champion girl.” He took a step forward, toward me. He was intimidating. I leaned against the wall. “Better question is this; have you arranged my meeting with the president yet? I saw you both speaking a bit earlier. He was giving you those eyes. God, office romances are the worst, aren’t they?”

  I felt the wood of the door behind me. I longed to rush out, away from him. But I had to stand firm. “Tell me how much longer you want to play with me,” I demanded in a harsh whisper.

  He took an additional step toward me, and he brought his finger to my face. He traced my cheekbone, my eyebrow with his first finger. I felt such menace from him, like he would hurt me if we weren’t stuck at the White House, the two of us. Together and so alone in that middle room—the very belly of the great political home.

  “I can’t be certain how long I’ll need you, can I?” he finally whispered. I thought he was going to kiss me, and I braced myself. “I suppose I’ll keep the pictures until I get what I want, ultimately.”

  “And what is it that you want?” I asked him. I swallowed, feeling such anger and hysteria beneath him.

  He shrugged once more. “What I’ve always wanted, of course. What I’ve always wanted.”

  I shook my head. I sputtered another question, feeling the quivering deep in my stomach. “Are there any more cameras in my apartment?” I finally asked. I swallowed, closing my eyes.

  I felt him step even closer to me. I could feel his breath on my mouth. I could nearly feel his lips upon mine. His words echoed over me then. “I will answer this question, of course. For it is the most interesting of all. How many did you find?”

  “Three,” I said, still keeping my eyes closed. I wanted to run away. I wanted to get out of there. But I felt so trapped, like an animal in a cage.

  He started laughing then. I could feel him tip his head back to laugh stronger, harder than I’d heard him laugh since that first day, when he’d brought the photos to me—when he’d ruined my life. “Three
cameras. Of course. Those were the ones I wanted you to see. The one in the armoire? What nice china, by the way. Antique, no?”

  I bit my lip, feeling waves of nausea pass through me. Three cameras. Three. “How many are there total, Jason?” I asked him. My voice was on the hint of begging. I felt that this was the only way I could translate my sheer anxiety.

  “There are five cameras, my lovely. Five.”

  My eyes snapped open, and I viewed his hand before me—the five fingers out like rockets from his palm. I swallowed.

  “Two others.”

  “And you’ll never find them,” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “Never.”

  He jutted past me. He grabbed the door knob and jolted into the hallway, through the crowded room with all the rushing campaign employees. I began to run after him, but I was immediately bombarded with questions, with papers. I felt the anxiety close around my throat. There was nothing I could do, in that moment.

  Chapter Seven

  I sat at my desk for a long time, thoughts of quitting and leaving the White House forever coursing through my brain. I actually saw no way out of this dilemma. This terrifying man was watching my apartment. I was losing control of my position. I was desired by the president—by this wonderful, stunning man—and yet this was the very root of my dilemma.

  The phone started to ring once more. Always, it was ringing off the hook. Sometimes, I considered snipping the wire and falling away from this reality. I looked across the room at Jason once more, catching his eyes. They were brimming with dispassion, with anger. He mouthed the words, “Meeting with the president,” in such a way that made me feel like he still had me pressed against the wall, forming his mouth over mine.

  I answered the phone in a hushed whisper. “Hello?”

  “Amanda. This is Xavier. I need to see you immediately.”

  I leaned back in the chair then. I felt my heart beating fast in my chest. “Is your wife all right?” I asked him. I blinked wildly, knowing I was touching a nerve. I wanted to remind him who he was and what he was meant to take care of. If he left me alone—maybe I could get out of this alive and unscathed. Maybe.

  But Xavier didn’t put up with it. “I need you in my office immediately.” And then he hung up the phone.

  I felt like both the good guys and the bad guys were hounding me. I hated it. I brought my hands to my eyes and then tugged at my hair, allowing myself this sensation of real pain. It rooted me back in reality.

  I darted down the hallway, toward the Oval Office. Again, Dimitri was nowhere to be found outside the office. The Secret Service agent pulled open the door for me and allowed me entrance, bowing his head soundly for me. I felt like a queen, if only for a moment.

  I closed the door behind me and turned, finding the president in the center of the room instead of his usual position, behind his desk. He looked so serious. His eyebrows dipped over his eyes, and his mouth was pressed firmly together.

  “Mr. President,” I whispered. I both hoped and didn’t that he’d brought me in there just to ask me out again, to save me from this terrifying world. I swallowed. “If this is about the campaign, I think I’d better retrieve Jason.”

  But the president held up his hand at once, shaking his head. “Please. This is a meeting between you and I only.” He gestured forward, toward the center couch. I proceeded to sit down, bringing my long brown hair behind my ear. I felt myself quivering and I hoped he didn’t notice.

  “Amanda,” he began. He sat down hesitantly next to me, leaning toward me a bit. He brought his hand toward my face and played with a small curl that wandered around my ear. “I’m worried about you.”

  I swallowed. I peered at a painting of George Washington on the wall. What a terrifying presidency that had been; what a terrifying life Martha had had to live all those years before.

  But Xavier was still staring at me. “I think about you all the time, Amanda. You have to know that. Before, they were—blissful thoughts. Thoughts of such happiness we could have together. But now. Those thoughts have changed.” He sighed. He placed his hand on my knee, and I curled my toe in my shoe, wanting him. His touch felt so good. I still held my eyes toward the wall. I could hardly look at him. I knew it would draw tears.

  “My thoughts are now—affecting the presidency,” he murmured. “I can hardly focus on anything anymore. The other day, I was in a meeting with the Secretary of State and I just stared out the window, thinking of you.”

  I blinked, feeling a small tear formulate in the corner of my eye. Why was he telling me all of this?

  “I feel like you’re pulling away from me,” he finally said. His voice broke. “I feel like we had something really special; I feel like we could have really done something, together.”

  “You mean as a couple?” I whispered. My voice was breaking, as well. I couldn’t believe he had had these thoughts; I couldn’t believe that he’d thought about me in any manner that wasn’t sexual; that he actually admired my talents, my drive, my very being. He wasn’t typical in this way, of course. Most men just wanted to fuck me and leave me at the curb.

  His grip tightened on my leg, then. He cleared his throat. “I know it’s insane to talk about. I know I’m a married man. And I’m devoted to my marriage, of course. But I can’t stop thinking of you. Please. Assure me that this—this—“

  “This?” I whispered once more. The tear had made a trail down my cheek by then, leaving me seemingly naked beside him.

  “This beautiful thing that we have. I don’t want to lose it. Assure me that it isn’t over, okay?”

  My mind was spinning. I knew I needed to tell him that I couldn’t see him anymore; I knew I couldn’t tell him that Jason had me in his grasp, that I literally hadn’t a single sliver of free will anymore. I swallowed and turned my head almost imperceptibly toward him. “I just—I just have so much on my plate, Xavier. I need… I need some space. Some space would be really good right now for me. So that I can focus on the campaign. So that I can focus on making you the best president you can be.” I heard the quivering in my voice. I remembered the confident girl I had been just a few weeks before. I no longer recognized that person anymore.

  The president leaned back and removed his hand from my leg. He clucked his tongue. “You need space?” he asked. His voice was nearly incredulous. “Space from me? From the White House? From the United States? Space from what?”

  But I just shook my head, knowing that he could never truly understand. “Just space, Xavier,” I whispered. “I have to work through this, now. You have to leave this to me.”

  Xavier stood. He grabbed a small, decorative bowl from the table before us and flung it at the wall, allowing it to crash to the ground. The glass shards crashed everywhere, reminding me of the wine glass I had broken the week before when I’d been searching for the hidden camera in my apartment. He stomped his foot, almost like a child but with a man’s passion, with a man’s anger. In a way, it aroused me, making me want to leap toward him and take him in my arms, kiss his lips with mine.

  He sat at his presidential desk then. He left me on the couch by myself, my hands folded before me like a peasant. I bit my lip.

  He waved his hand. “That’s it, then,” he muttered. It sounded like he was ending a business meeting—something incredibly formal, instead of the final rousing after an evening of titillating pleasure.

  I stood. I bowed my head, feeling such sadness in my belly. I agreed with everything he said, of course. I agreed that we could create a beautiful life together. If things had been different. If people weren’t eternally watching our every step. If slimy creeps like Jason didn’t exist, always around the corner with a camera, ready to ruin your life.

  I walked toward the door and brought my hand forth. I wrapped it around the handle, hearing him move in his chair. I paused. His voice rooted me back into reality, humming through my ears. “Amanda,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

  I sp
un my head back around toward him and bowed, allowing my eyelashes to drip down to my cheeks. I felt so unsure in his presence, so jittery. “I’m sorry, too, Xavier,” I whispered.

  “There’s more,” he said then. “I need you to know something. Even if we’re never in the same room again, alone. Even if this beautiful thing falls away forever. I need you to know that I am completely devoted to you, in this here and now. And I have been for quite some time. It took me a moment to make a move, and for that I am sorry. I wasted precious time I could have had with you. That kills me.”

  He tapped his chest with his long, thin fingers. I held the door knob loosely in my hand, listening to his words as they fell through my ears, making me feel so open to him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss him, feel him, love him. But instead, I saw Jason’s laughing face in my head.

  “Thank you, Xavier. I—“ I started shaking my head. I wanted to words to come churning from my mouth once more, but I couldn’t find them. I wanted to tell him that I felt the same way—that I’d always felt that we were right for each other, from the first moment we’d spoken.

  Instead, I spun around and left the Oval Office. I tapped down the hallway, feeling like the world was spinning around me. This tumultuous White House offered so much: so much drama, so much lust, and so much potential for love. But I had to put my head down. Continue to answer phones. Do Jason’s bidding. I had to continue doing what I’d always done before.

  I couldn’t fall in love with anyone. Especially not Xavier. Especially not the most powerful man in the world.

  No. Especially not him.

  Chapter Eight

  I went home a bit later, feeling beat from the day. The mental and emotional fatigue from Jason’s continuous game was making me feel off my game. I slumped in the back of the taxi on the way back, not even bothering to laugh at the taxi driver’s jokes as we flew across the city.