At the Pleasure of the President Read online

  In fact, the blackmailer had threatened everyone even remotely close to the president. He’d vowed to expose the emails Roman and Joy had exchanged during the campaign when they’d been having a non-physical but emotional affair. He’d procured a sex tape Gus had made with a past sexual partner. Both Roman and Gus had offered to release their “sins” to the public to render those threats pointless. But the blackmailer had even more damning dirt.

  Following Mad’s death, the FAA had opened an investigation into the crash. The blackmailer claimed he had proof Zack had pressured the organization to halt their inquiries so Gabe wouldn’t be implicated in their friend’s death. Gabe swore he’d had nothing to do with Mad perishing, just as Zack vowed he hadn’t interfered with the investigation. But how would that play out in the court of public opinion? Collectively, they might be able to weather the storm, but the blackmailer also had information about Connor’s involvement in a CIA op that resulted in the death of a cartel head’s son. If word got out that Connor had participated in that raid, the cartel would stop at nothing to destroy him. And while the operative could handle almost any threat that came his way, they wouldn’t hesitate to take their revenge out on his gentle wife, Lara.

  More than once Liz had offered to quit so the blackmailer could no longer use her sister’s past to threaten Zack, but he’d merely fired the lawyer Anne had hired and sent in a high-priced pit bull to deal with the fallout.

  Liz frowned. Zack didn’t want her, but he refused to let her go. It made no sense.

  “You don’t have to do anything at all,” Gus promised. “The new attorney is handling everything. Besides, that case is based in Atlanta, and you’re not going there for the weekend. You’re confined to DC, right? We all are. Bastards.”

  The men were concerned something could happen to one of their wives/fiancées since Zack hadn’t given the blackmailers what they wanted. But Liz didn’t know why she’d been included in the restrictions. It wasn’t as if she mattered to Zack personally anymore.

  Unless Zack suspected she would betray him.

  After weeks of consideration, that was the only logical reason she could figure for his insistence that she stay on his staff and remain confined to the White House. Keep your enemies closer and all that.

  Liz sighed. When had they become enemies? She couldn’t pinpoint a moment. After that fateful day in Memphis, he’d pulled back. Not surprising since he’d become a widower and been elected president in the same week. But instead of getting closer to her as he healed and found his feet, he’d grown more distant. Then recently, he’d told her that his feelings for her had changed, and he now thought of her as a sister. Nothing could have stabbed her heart any more.

  She would never be able to think of him as a brother. Never. She couldn’t look at him in one of those tailor-made suits, with his broad shoulders and that granite-cut jawline, and feel any sense of familial connection to him—unless she counted the fact that she’d once thought she might have a family with him.

  “No, I’m going to talk to him on the phone,” Liz admitted. “I just want an update on how it’s going.”

  “You have to know Zack won’t allow anything to happen to your sister.” Gus crossed her arms over her chest in that “big sister is about to lecture you” way. “There’s more going on than we imagined, Liz. Be patient with Zack. He has his reasons. I don’t know all of them, but I believe with every fiber of my being that man is still in love with you.”

  He’d never been in love with her. Maybe he’d thought so once, years ago. Maybe it had merely been lust. But no one who loved another person could be as cold as Zack had been recently. He’d seemingly turned angry, too. She couldn’t soothe him anymore. In fact, her presence only seemed to perturb him.

  Liz was prepared to argue the point when a brisk knock sounded on her door. Gus opened it.

  Vanessa paused in the portal. “I told him you were about to leave.”

  As the officious man skulked through the door, Gus groaned. Liz was tempted to join in. Vice President Wallace Shorn hadn’t been chosen to round out Zack’s ticket for his charm. The older man, whose suit was a bit too tight around the middle, projected calm and experience, at least according to Franklin Hayes before he’d succumbed to dementia. Together with Joy’s father, they’d selected Shorn, a senator from Florida, to balance out Zack’s northeast-elite vibe.

  “What are we doing about all the rumors flying around following the meeting with the prime minister?” Wallace demanded, a frown creasing his face. “Does the president even understand what he did by refusing to talk about the pipeline? I’ve put months into that project. Mind you, I told him it was a bad idea in the first place. It’s going to get us into a war we can’t win, but I was willing to go along with it because I’m a team player. Then he announced it’s all up in the air without even consulting me. My neck is on the line here. I’ve made promises. Hell, I’ve got a meeting with the gas lobby next week, and I have no idea what to say.”

  “You should talk to the president,” Gus replied. “Somehow I don’t think the press secretary has the answers you need.”

  Wallace sent a withering look Gus’s way. “Do you think I would be in here if Hayes would take my calls? He’s avoiding me. Calder set up a lunch for next week, but I need answers now. What’s going on? And what the hell happened in England? I’ve heard talk of someone from the prime minister’s contingent going missing. For that matter, how did we lose a Secret Service agent? No one is talking.”

  Liz didn’t have any of those answers since Zack had shut her out. He used to tell her everything. She’d been the one he came to at the end of a day to share whatever had happened. He’d often asked for her advice. Sometimes they had dinner with Roman in the residence, and the three of them talked things out and planned their strategy. Often, they’d talked so long into the evening, she’d stayed in one of the White House’s many guest rooms. Every time, Zack walked her to the door, and she’d pretend they were everyday people on a perfectly normal date.

  Had it really only been a few months since she’d straightened his tie before they’d attended a private fundraising party? She remembered the evening like it was yesterday. They’d flown up to New York together, and she’d ensured he’d worn the right suit. He hadn’t protested when she’d fussed over him. If anything, he’d eased closer. Then he’d told her how beautiful she looked.

  That night, his stare had vowed it was only a matter of time before mourning and circumstance would no longer keep them apart. That expression had promised they would find a way to be together.

  That expression had lied.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Vice President. I know as much as you do about the president’s current thoughts on the pipeline. He chose not to announce his reasoning in England.” She wasn’t getting in the middle of that fight. She would do her job and run the press office. She would stand in front of the press corps and dutifully answer every question to the best of her ability. She wouldn’t organize Zack’s life anymore, nor would she be the buffer between him and his annoyances any longer. Roman could manage that. He was chief of staff and an insider. Liz had become merely an employee, and he didn’t pay her enough to deal with this crap.

  “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. Everyone knows who to go to when they need something from the president. I want a meeting with Hayes and I want a full briefing on all the pipeline’s developments,” Wallace insisted, staring pointedly. “And while you’re at it, keep him in a better mood. He’s been irritable lately.”

  She bristled. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Everyone sees through the two of you. For god’s sake, apologize for whatever you’ve been fighting about and take care of the man so he’ll be in a better mood.”

  Gus stepped between them. “Listen up, Wally…”

  Liz had to intervene before this altercation turned ugly. Of course Shorn’s intimation was a sexist insult. But the last thing she needed was Gus dres
sing down the vice president of the United States in front of the whole press office.

  Maneuvering around her friend, Liz carefully blocked anyone in the outer office from seeing her expression and she lowered her voice. “Let’s be clear about one thing: the only way I take care of the president is by being his press secretary. Your insinuation that my only value is in keeping the president sexually satisfied is offensive. I’m excellent at my job, which is restricted to relaying the president’s message and keeping unfavorable stories about him out of the press. I also assure you that if I’m capable of stopping the negative, I can release it, too. I might look like a sweet little woman, but I’ve made a career of ferreting out helpful information. For instance, Mr. Vice President, I know all about your wife’s little incident at Bloomingdale’s last month. It’s not the first time she’s been caught shoplifting, is it? The pattern of behavior suggests she’s got a problem. Oh, you’ve done a good job covering it up. I’m better, so I suggest you watch your mouth around me.”

  “Is that a threat?” Wallace asked, clearly shaken.

  “It’s a promise.”

  Shorn’s behavior reminded Liz of something she’d suspected for some time. She’d let the last few years soften her up. She’d spent more time crying over Zack than she had asking the right questions. Something was going on behind the scenes, but she’d been far too caught up in her own heartache to decipher the problem.

  That stopped now.

  “You should leave.” A shit-eating grin stretched across Gus’s face, which only widened when the older man huffed as he complied. The moment the VP was out of the office, Gus shut the door behind him. “That was classic Liz. I’ve missed your badass side, my friend.”

  “You know what? I have, too. I’m going to drop one last press release off with Vanessa, then I think I will join you this evening. I could use some girl time.”

  “All right.” Gus gave her a thumbs-up. “We’re going to rock this town. Maybe we can even find you a hot stripper.”

  It was funny how quickly Gus’s mood could turn when the occasion called for it. Minutes ago, she’d been preaching patience. Now she was talking strippers. “I thought you said Zack still loved me.”

  “He does…but pictures of you with a hot exotic dancer is bound to get him off his ass. Besides, I’m dying to see how Lara handles some guy in a G-string with his junk in her face. She’ll either protest or try to talk him into finding a line of work that more appropriately honors his body. Personally, I can honor a guy’s hot bod just fine with cash.”

  Gus was incorrigible. Perhaps a night where Gus led her posse into wild times was exactly what Liz needed. She grabbed the last of her paperwork off her desk. “Or maybe she’ll go the sex-positive route and praise them for not having sticks up their asses. I’ll be right back.”

  She grabbed the press release she needed to distribute about the White House’s upcoming social events. She wasn’t going to manage those personally anymore. It was the First Lady’s duty. She’d played that role for the last time. Vanessa or Gus could do it from now on.

  As she walked toward the copy machine, Liz overheard some of the interns talking.

  “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think he’s supposed to be in that room. I was only up there because I was taking a couple of pictures for the website,” said one young woman.

  A brown-haired senator’s son shook his head. “How did he get in that office? What do we do when the president isn’t around?”

  “Doesn’t he have a nurse or something?”

  Damn it. There was only one person they could be talking about. She refused to let this be her problem anymore. When Zack had shut her out, he’d also forfeited her willingness to deal with his father’s dementia-related episodes. So she felt zero guilt about walking away from Franklin Hayes. Someone else could deal with it.

  Except Frank could be difficult. They’d hired four different nurses in the last couple of years, and every one of them had abruptly quit. For all she knew, the latest had decided he’d suffered enough and left without notice, so now Frank was ambling around the White House without supervision. Usually he didn’t get out of the East Wing, but the staff was thin late on a Friday afternoon, especially because the president wasn’t in residence for a few days.

  Liz sighed. As much as she’d like to, she couldn’t leave the man to wander. What if he hurt himself? Or if someone saw him, stories might leak to the press that Zack didn’t take care of his father. When she thought about it that way, helping Frank really was her job.

  “Vanessa, could you get this out on Monday?” she said, handing the other woman the paperwork. “And call me if you hear anything going on with the vice president. I don’t need him causing trouble. I have to go hunt Frank down.”

  Vanessa groaned. “He’s out again? They need to put that old codger on a leash.”

  Liz would have admonished the younger woman…but she was kind of right. Frank could be a handful. Sometimes, he thought it was still 1960, and every female in the vicinity needed to see him mooning the Harvard football team.

  She shuddered. There were some things she could never, ever unsee.

  After asking the interns where they’d last seen Frank, Liz rushed to find him. With a huff, she climbed the stairs to the second floor, which housed the residence. At least she could be thankful that Frank almost never wandered downstairs.

  As she started toward the small, private study known as the Treaty Room, she caught sight of a middle-aged man in hospital scrubs racing from the back of the East Wing.

  “I’m so sorry. He was asleep when I went to the bathroom.” The man Liz recognized as Frank’s second-shift nurse approached, looking flustered. “He’s probably playing with paperwork or something. He likes to pretend he’s working.”

  Liz frowned. “That door is supposed to be locked.”

  But someone somehow had managed to open it.

  “He’s very good at getting into places he shouldn’t be able to,” the nurse complained, pushing through the door.

  And out of places that should be secure, which was why Frank now lived in the White House.

  Zack had tried putting his father in a memory care facility. But the older man had been belligerent and combative whenever the facility managed to contain him. But too often he’d escaped, walking the streets of DC in his pajamas and attracting the attention of the press while looking for his son. It was a PR nightmare.

  After his latest escape had been plastered all over the news, she and Zack had sat up late one night, and he’d opened up to her about his mixed feelings where his father was concerned. Franklin Hayes had pushed Zack hard, always demanding the best from his son. It had been something of a relief to not live with the man, and he should have been getting far better care in the facility than anywhere else. But in the end, Zack agreed that his father wandering the streets was too much of both an optics problem and a security risk, so it was better to keep him close.

  Zack was obviously doing the same with her now. He saw her as a liability. She recognized his behavior since she’d been the one to teach him this tactic.

  “Mr. Hayes, you’re not allowed to be in here. Let’s get you back to bed.”

  Dressed in blue pajamas, a thin maroon robe, and slippers that could have come out of the 1950s, Frank peered at them with a scowl. To the outside eye he appeared perfectly normal, like any other upscale man of means at an advanced age.

  He turned back to the desk and shuffled through the papers now scattered across the surface. “This is my office. Where are my papers? Don’t you know I have to meet with the Kremlin in two days? Where is Constance? Don’t tell me she’s crying again. She has to get over that.”

  The moment he opened his mouth, Liz was reminded that appearances were deceiving and that Frank’s mind was lost in the past. She also knew from experience that she had to take a firm stance with him. “Mr. Hayes, this is your son’s office, not yours. You do not work in the Russian embassy anymore. You’re
in the White House, and you need to go back to your rooms.”

  It was obvious he’d been going through the notepads Zack often used when he was working. He’d also turned on the laptop there.

  Zack preferred this office to the Oval when he wasn’t meeting with people. When he was alone, he liked the privacy of the Treaty Room. But Frank didn’t know that. He probably came here because it was close to his rooms. Poor old guy…

  “My son is a child.” Frank paused and looked around. “This isn’t my office. Where am I?”

  Liz grimaced. When Frank was having a really bad day, he couldn’t remember more than a few moments at a time.

  The nurse took over, gently easing the man back out into the hallway. “It’s okay, Mr. Hayes. We’ll get you back to your room.”

  “Where is my son? I would like to see him before his bedtime. Shouldn’t he be here?” Frank ambled out with a glower. “Tell me he’s not with those boys from the school. Bad influences. That’s what they are, especially that Crawford brat.”

  Liz sighed and glanced down at the desk. It no longer looked neat and organized, the way Zack kept everything. The man was practically obsessive compulsive. She squashed the impulse to put it all back to order so the chaos didn’t bother Zack.

  Her fingertips glided across the notebook, over his clean, masculine handwriting. She missed him. Even when he was an asshole, she missed him like she’d lost a piece of her own soul. The ache was that deep.

  “Ms. Matthews?”

  A deep voice startled her, and she turned with a yelp to find a Secret Service agent standing there, Gus at his side.

  “Sorry, I came up here to see if I could help with Frank. He was up and about again,” she explained, closing the notebook. She shouldn’t be in here, either. She wasn’t welcome anymore. “What’s up?”

  Gus handed her the Prada bag she’d been so excited about when she’d bought it in New York. That had been her last good trip with Zack.

  “Sorry about the scare, but this one insisted we find you. Apparently our girls’ night out has been canceled. I told Mr. Serious here that he was costing us strippers.”