At the Pleasure of the President Page 20

  He stopped to talk to a security guard who checked his credentials. Then a man in scrubs came down the stairs and shook Paul’s hand. Together, they walked back up.

  Liz eased into the hall. “Hey, Jim. Is Paul Harding going to see Ambassador Hayes?”

  “Yes. He’s right on time,” the sentry said, gesturing to the schedule on his laptop. “It’s nice of him to visit since, according to the nurses, he’s the only one besides the president who can get the ambassador to talk for any length of time. They have pleasant chats.”

  Paul visiting Frank Hayes was a fairly recent development. He’d been active in the campaign, but after Joy’s death, he’d retreated to his California estate for a couple of years. Not too long ago he’d moved back to the DC area, saying it felt more like home.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” She forced a smile. “It’s nice that someone can calm him down. I need to go up and grab a few things I left up there. I won’t be long.”

  Jim’s grin told her he wasn’t unaware of where she’d been sleeping lately. “Of course, Ms. Matthews.”

  “Liz, please.” She didn’t love the formality so many longtimers clung to.

  “I don’t think it will be Liz for long.” He leaned over, his voice conspiratorially low. “You know we’re not allowed to call the First Lady by her first name.”

  “That is not happening any time soon.” She didn’t even try to deny it. They couldn’t exactly hide the fact that she had practically moved in. And then she winced as she remembered another tradition. “Tell me the staff hasn’t started a betting pool.”

  His laugh let her know they had. “I’ve got my money on under six weeks because I know President Hayes and when he decides he wants something, he goes after it and gets it very quickly. Work fast, future FLOTUS, because my daughter starts college soon and I need cash.”

  “You’re all horrible,” she admonished with a smile. His gentle teasing was a balm to the hurt she’d felt after her run-in with Vanessa.

  At least it seemed as if the general staff wasn’t bothered at the thought of her having a relationship with their commander and chief. She winked his way and climbed the stairs.

  How close could she get to Frank’s room without anyone noticing? Heck, why was she bothering? Paul was just pissed off and looking for someone to take his frustration out on. She’d been convenient. Unless he’d come to see if Frank could tell him who the president slept with these days—good luck with Frank remembering anything beyond his own name—she didn’t see how Paul’s visit could be anything except their regularly scheduled get-together.

  On the other hand, she didn’t trust Paul in this mood and she didn’t need him stirring the pot. Best to make sure he wasn’t agitating the ailing man.

  Liz turned down the hallway that led to Frank’s rooms. If anyone asked, she would say she was checking on him. She did it from time to time because it was hard for Zack to break free and see the older man…and because Zack and his father had a complicated relationship. Still, they both felt better knowing he was well taken care of.

  She turned again, just in time to see the nurse walk across the hall and into the space he used for his breakroom, a soft drink in hand. He hummed as he opened the door and entered.

  So the nurses left Paul alone with Frank. That was interesting. She crept further along the hallway. Frank had a suite of rooms, a bedroom, sitting room, small dining area, and a bathroom they’d converted to make it easy for him to shower. If the older men were back in his bedroom, she would have to sneak into the unit to hear them.

  Liz took two steps in that direction, then noticed the nurse hadn’t closed the breakroom door. She stopped herself inches shy of the nurse being able to spot her if he looked across the hall. Then she frowned, feeling foolish.

  What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t sneaky. She definitely wasn’t a spy. If Paul caught her, god only knew what excuse she could give. Probably not a good one, and in his mood she didn’t think it was smart to piss him off more.

  Liz shook her head. She couldn’t do this. So Paul was grief-ridden and bitter—who could blame him—and he might fire back at Zack in the press? It was nothing she couldn’t handle. She had no right or reason to listen in on this conversation.

  She turned around to head back down the hall—and ran smack into a wall of muscle.

  “Elizabeth?” Zack cupped her arms, balancing her so she didn’t stumble over.

  Why did she feel like she’d been caught doing something wrong? “Sorry, I was…this is going to sound crazy, but Paul Harding showed up in my office. He was very upset about the Capitol Scandals story. He made some threats and stormed out, so I followed him.”

  “He’s here, visiting my father?” Zack looked toward Frank’s door. When she nodded, Zack frowned. “And you wanted to listen in to find out what they discussed?”

  She winced. “Maybe it sounds crazy, but I wanted to make sure Paul wasn’t stirring up trouble by either planting suggestions in your dad’s head or trying to ask Frank for dirt about our relationship. But the nurse didn’t close the breakroom door and he would have seen me walking by. I couldn’t think of a good excuse for being up here, so I turned to leave. I wouldn’t have followed him at all…except he said some things that worried me.”

  “Which means he was angry about the Joy and Roman story and threatened to expose you and me, right? We’ll talk about it this evening.” Zack started leading her away.

  She nodded, following. “Paul was really furious that we’re allowing Joy’s good name to be smeared. As much as I hate to ask…I wonder if Freddy can find out if there’s any surveillance equipment inside your father’s suite. Just in case. I’d rather not be blindsided if Paul decides to spread gossip.”

  He kissed her and promised to look into it before sending her down the stairs that led to the first floor.

  It wasn’t until she’d gone that she realized she forgot to ask him why he’d been there himself.

  * * * *

  Mad stared down at row after row of photos displayed on the computer screen in front of him. He wasn’t sure why Sara was scanning the pictures they’d found on Joy’s laptop. Well, he understood the purpose. Maybe Joy had captured something—unwitting or not—that might help them end the Russian syndicate’s blackmail threat. But he didn’t think that was Sara’s current focus as she stared at endless pictures of Zack and Joy’s wedding.

  Row after row of Zack in his tuxedo looking young and ready to take on the world, yet still oddly remote. He and Joy smiled gamely for the photographer, but Mad saw the disconnect between them, as if they’d been puppets, their strings being pulled by others.

  Or maybe he thought that because he knew it was the truth.

  “I remember that day well,” he murmured.

  Sara started and turned on him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  He set the mug of tea he’d made in front of her. “I didn’t. First, I asked if you wanted sugar. Then I cursed as I tripped over the extension cord and nearly dropped the mug. Next, I kicked the coffee table because I was frustrated that it was in my way. Baby, a bull charging through a china shop would have been more subtle.”

  She sent him a sheepish glance as she picked up the mug. “Oh. I was lost in thought. I came across these pictures and couldn’t forget how I felt that day.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, glancing at the image on the large monitor, one of him and Gabe. They each had a champagne glass in hand as they peered at the happy couple. “I hated that tuxedo. Uncomfortable as hell.”

  “You looked nice in it.”

  Mad turned to her, brow raised. “Did I?”

  “All of you did,” she clarified quickly. “Why didn’t you like it?”

  “It wasn’t just the penguin suit. Zack’s wedding was a big event, which would have been all right…except I didn’t feel a lot of happiness from either the bride or groom. It was more like a show than a celebration of two lovers choosing to sp
end their lives together. And then Roman killed what little fun we had planned. You have no idea what he threatened to do to us if we, say, tied twenty-five of the largest neon-colored dildos to the back of the getaway limo.”

  She turned to him with an impish grin on her face. “Is that where those came from? Later that year, Mom asked me to go to Gabe’s old room and grab a coat or something out of his closet. When I opened the door, they all fell on me.”

  Oh, Mad wished he’d seen that. “Well, we needed a place to stash those, and Gabe didn’t trust me. I have no idea why.”

  He glanced back at the monitor, then took command of the mouse, scrolling up to what he liked to think of as the “before” shots. Photographers had been in both the groom’s and bride’s rooms, snapping photos of them getting ready and speaking tenderly to their friends and family. He pointed to a picture in the groom’s room with all of them sitting around, Scotch glasses in hand. Frank Hayes glowered at them all as if they were ill-bred mongrels, not yet house trained, that his son had dragged home.

  “The pictures don’t show it, but Zack was miserable that day. Not because of Joy but because her parents ruled that wedding with an iron fist. He literally had no say in anything. They picked the cake, Joy’s gown, and those horrifically uncomfortable tuxedoes. The wedding planner was some distant family member who yelled a lot and harped about how important the seating arrangement was. She was one bitter woman, let me tell you. But some of her assistants were, um…nice young ladies.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How many of them did you sleep with?”

  His stupid mouth got him in trouble a lot. “It’s hard to remember. Hey, you weren’t exactly an angel, either. As I recall, you showed up to the wedding with that asshole you were dating who thought he was the shit because he was on that soap opera.”

  Her smile turned distinctly coy. “He came to Bond Aeronautics because he had to learn how to fly for a movie he was in. But I taught him lots more that summer.”

  Her challenging expression told him she was waiting to see if he was a hypocrite. Sadly for Mad, he could be a big one, at least when it came to Sara.

  “Last I heard he’s now doing local furniture commercials in the Midwest. So sad for him.”

  She tsked at him and turned her attention back to the screen.

  “Hey, I can’t help it if I’m jealous. I pretty much hate every man who’s ever touched you.”

  “If I had the same attitude, I’d have to hate half the women on the planet, including one of my best friends.”

  Damn it, he didn’t want to fight or hash out a past they couldn’t change. “I’m not saying this the right way. The truth is, I don’t blame a single one of your former lovers for wanting you. God knows I understand how they must have felt to be with you. I only wish…” He shrugged. “I wish I could look back on my life and that I’d only known you.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Mad. You started having sex when you were what? Thirteen?”

  “Actually, I had just turned seventeen.”

  “Impossible.”

  “No, I’m serious. Gabe had been the stud of Creighton for over a year. Your brother plowed through them all—students, teachers… Pretty sure even some of our moms.”

  She scowled in denial. “He did not.”

  Mad quit that topic. No reason to disillusion her more. “Anyway, you probably knew my first time was with Gus. That was nice. But after that…the first girl I really wanted to be my girlfriend was a beautiful girl from our sister school. I got with her, and after we did the deed, which was over far sooner than I’d like to admit, she asked me when she could meet Zack.”

  Sara gasped. “Are you serious?”

  “Even then, everyone knew how important Zack would be. I’ve had more than one woman use me to get to him. But that’s not the point. I’m trying to explain that I wish I’d waited for you. And when I think about those other guys, I hate that they got to spend time with you that I didn’t.”

  Something soft crossed her face, but she pressed her lips together, not saying a word.

  Trying not to be disheartened, he turned back to the pictures, his gaze landing on one of Joy in her white gown, pale roses in hand as she allowed the assistants to fix her long lacy veil. It had taken three young women to get it just right.

  Something was off about that picture. Mad couldn’t quite figure it out, but that image bugged him for some reason.

  “You were mighty busy with all those other women.”

  She was missing the point. “I would never have bothered with the vast majority of those women if you had said yes the first time I asked you out. That’s the difference.”

  “I was sixteen.”

  He shrugged. “I would have happily walked away from any one of them to simply hold your hand.”

  She turned back to the screen, but not before he saw her expression turn thoughtful.

  Mad hoped that meant something good. In the last few days, she’d proven incredibly mulish. She hadn’t softened much. Oh, she’d been perfectly fine with him working beside her, talking to her about anything at all–except their relationship. If he brought that up, she would carefully stop whatever she’d been doing, escape into the bedroom, and shut him out. He had to take some solace that she hadn’t done it this time, but he also wasn’t going to push it. He’d said what he needed to say for now.

  Baby steps. That was his new plan. By the time his daughter was walking, maybe her mom would smile at him again.

  Or maybe she would have found someone else without his shitty reputation who hadn’t found himself ass deep in international espionage. Someone who would have concocted some clever way to keep them all together instead of immediately jumping off the nearest ledge into chaos.

  Lately, he wondered if she was right about his decisions.

  He shook off the introspection and resumed looking at the pictures, his gaze straying again to the image of Joy having her veil straightened. Her father was standing to the side, with Frank.

  What was off with this snapshot?

  “Gabe’s wedding was far more reserved, and I think he liked it that way,” she said, reaching again for the tea he’d brought her. “He didn’t like Zack’s wedding either. He thought it was more about the press than their devotion.”

  “What was it like, Gabe and Everly’s wedding?”

  Her lips curled up, but the smile seemed bittersweet. “Lovely and intimate. Only a few of us were there, all close friends and family. I won’t go into details. You’d get bored.”

  “No. I want to hear everything. What did she wear?”

  Sara turned. “Really?”

  “She’s my sister and he’s…he was my best friend. I hate that I missed it. I was supposed to be his best man. We’d never talked about it or anything because we’re guys and we don’t plan weddings in our heads, but we both knew how it would go. Roman and Zack. Dax and Connor. Me and Gabe. And I missed it. I can’t get that moment back. Those guys…they’re the only family I have left. Hell, sometimes I think they were the only family I ever had.”

  She stood and lifted her mug. “All right, then. I’ll tell you the whole story. Come to the kitchen though. I’m craving soup and I think there’s some chicken noodle in the pantry. But first, you were planning on tying all those neon dildos to Zack’s limo, right?”

  Not only was Sara talking, she was joking with him. Humor and something even warmer lit her eyes again. That gave him hope in a way nothing else lately had. “After Roman’s threat, I didn’t dare. But I had this great idea to do a whole confetti-swap at the reception. Remember all those sparkly hearts they dropped on Zack and Joy during their first dance and how romantic everyone said that was? I was going to replace the hearts with penis-shaped glitter.” When Sara didn’t look amused, he sighed. “I can tell you don’t think that’s funny, but sometimes subtlety is called for. Imagine everyone smiling at how pretty the reception looked and how lovely the happy couple seemed in their confetti before the crowd realized they
were covered in dicks.”

  Her laugh sent a wave of joy through him.

  “You know, at some point I’ll throw Gabe and Ev a beautiful anniversary party because I would love to see that,” she vowed. “Now, we’ll start with the dress. Getting Everly in a decent wedding gown was not an easy task. She wasn’t remotely interested in designer. That girl is all about comfort.”

  She continued talking as she returned to the monitor. Mad followed, his stare drifting back to that niggling photo.

  He would figure it out eventually. For now, he just wanted to hear Sara’s story.

  * * * *

  From the doorway, Zack stared at the old man in his comfortable room. The hour was far later than he’d hoped, but then he’d gotten caught up in briefings about a skirmish of warring factions in the Middle East. So much war that had such far-reaching ramifications.

  A butterfly flaps its wings…and oil prices go through the roof.

  Sometimes he wished his father had wanted him to be an insurance salesman or something normal. Something where the fate of the freaking world didn’t rest on his shoulders.

  “He had a good day,” the nurse was saying. “He always seems happier and more settled after Mr. Harding visits. These days, he seems to remember his friend better than almost anyone else.”

  Maybe that wasn’t surprising since they’d been friends for decades. They’d definitely played a lot of golf together, and after the wedding, they’d been shoved together at every family function until Joy’s death. “I’m glad. Can you tell me something? Has he been wandering around a lot lately?”

  “Not as much as usual,” he said. “Honestly, he’s seemed tired lately. He’s needed more medication than, say, a few weeks ago. Are you worried about him?”

  No, he was trying to rationalize why Elizabeth had been in the Treaty Room shortly before they’d gone to Camp David. Yes, Gus had corroborated that Elizabeth had been told his father was wandering around upstairs, but Gus hadn’t seen Frank in the room herself. Roman kept harping that Elizabeth could be in bed with the Russians, but Zack refused to believe that she would riffle through his papers without a reason.