1. Jaclyn

Chapter 1

Jaclyn

" A ll right, Jackie, we'll begin once Christopher is ready," Lisa quips, studying her clipboard and adjusting her glasses.

I purse my lips, not daring to correct her for calling me Jackie, even though I detest it. The last thing I need is someone leaking to the press that I'm a ‘bridezilla.' Instead, I admire my A-line satin gown in the mirror, swiping at my non-existent wrinkles and nod once.

Poised. Pleasant. Polished.

"Thank you, Lisa. You've been a tremendous help today." She offers a genuine smile in response and steps out.

My entire life has been curated to bring me to this moment. Growing up in the White House, society and the media have dictated each facet of my life. Today is no different. Except, my wedding coordinator has given me more stress than the planning itself.

As for my fiancé, Christopher will be the perfect husband. Or, rather, he's a good political match; we have plenty in common. Perhaps plenty isn't the proper term. Enough. We have enough in common.

Who needs love? Friendship and respect are more important.

Or at least friendship.

Friendship is essential… Right?

Chris and I come from political families who have the highest expectations of us, and he understands the microscope I've been under since I was a child. Chris and his twin brother, Alex, are Senators, and their father was the President before mine. Despite my father's political career being over three years ago, as a soon-to-be Senator's wife, I'm still in the limelight.

State Assembly, Governor, Congressman, and two terms as President… I don't remember the last time I wasn't supporting my father. The next decade will be more of the same, this time for Chris.

Inspecting the last few details of my appearance, I can't help my sigh. It may be a loveless arrangement, but it's advantageous for both of us. As one of the youngest of the party, Chris' chances of being the presidential nominee increase exponentially when he's no longer a bachelor—especially marrying a Taylor. If everything goes to plan, he should be able to announce his candidacy shortly after our honeymoon .

The perfect Washington power couple.

I check my phone for what must be the tenth time in the past hour, and there are only twenty minutes before I'm supposed to begin the next chapter in my life. My attention is pulled away from it when, without looking up from her own phone, one of my bridesmaids robotically tells me, "You look beautiful."

Glancing around the bridal suite, my bridesmaids are three women I hardly know. None of them appear anxious, though given we're practically strangers, I shouldn't expect them to be. With nothing going the way I envisioned it would on my wedding day, my nerves are slowly getting the best of me, and I'm starting to regret my decision to not have my real girlfriends stand up with me.

I wouldn't want Ileah or Evelyn to be part of this charade—today is more for the country, the party, and the press, than it is for me. Though, I suppose my stand-in bridesmaids and I have more in common than I'd like to admit. We've all been meticulous about our public personas to ensure we'd be the picturesque wives to Senators and Governors.

Educated, but not opinionated. Feminine, but not too delicate. Social, but always keeping secrets guarded. First Lady is in my future if I marry Chris; I have to play the part.

Despite having political aspirations of my own, being an unmarried woman in my father's party, my career would fail miserably if I ran. While the Taylor name opens some doors, those doors are only a crack you can slip a hand through, and after today, the name will no longer be mine. My best chance at being anything other than a political trophy wife is to help my husband's career flourish. If luck is on my side, in a few years—and after birthing a few obligatory children—I'll have my shot at stepping into the political ring. I just need to bide my time.

Five more minutes pass before Lisa breathlessly rushes in. One hand presses her headset closer to her ear, and she gasps, "You need to speak with Former President Taylor."

My shoulders sag with a sigh. "What does my father need?"

"He didn't say, but he's in room seven down the hall."

She's as utterly useless as my bridesmaids.

With a last look around the room, I lift the skirt of my dress enough not to trip over it, and briskly walk to room seven. Hand poised to knock, I pause. There's shouting coming from inside, and I rest my ear on the ornate wooden door.

"We have to cancel," Father grits out.

"No, Tim! That's not what we discussed. In no world will I allow my daughter— our family —to be disgraced because of his mistakes!" Mother snaps back. "She's worked too hard for this. I've worked too hard for this. I don't care about him saving face; we find another way. Isn't there some crisis we can make up and toss to the media sharks? Something to distract them?"

What the hell is happening?

I finally knock, and to my surprise, Christopher answers—wearing a navy suit, not his tuxedo. "Chris, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be—" My breath is stolen from me; the blue in Chris' hazel eyes is more brown. We haven't talked in years, yet he still makes my heart stop and my stomach twist. As the air returns to my lungs, I exhale, " Alex ."

"Well, don't you clean up nicely?" His heated gaze slowly takes in every inch of me, sending shivers down my spine. While they may be identical in appearance, they couldn't be more different. Alex's irises flare, looking at me with a hint of longing; something Chris has never done. When Alex eventually meets my eyes again, he smirks. "Seems you don't know my brother all that well, if you're confusing me for him. Maybe it's best you're calling it off."

"No one is calling anything off. What are you doing here?" Shouldering past him into the room, I don't wait for his response and address my father, "You summoned me?"

"Yes. Christopher was in an accident ."

Looking back at Alex, I gulp. "Is he okay?" He better be, my plans depend on it .

Father pauses and lets out a long, almost exaggerated breath, pulling my attention back to him. He lowers his head for a moment before his stoic expression and stiff posture returns. "I'm sorry. He's not coming."

Mother rushes to me, pulling me into a tight embrace as she whispers, "Don't let him cancel it. We have to find a way to fix this."

Quickly stepping out of her hold, my brows pinch. "If he was in an accident, why don't we just postpone?"

"Because we can't disclose how my brother got into said accident. The story will be that he stood you up," Alex replies, though he's less smug about his suggestion than I expect. He actually sounds… sorry? Hell must've frozen over; this man has been nothing but a thorn in everyone's side since he took office. Not only does he not vote with his brother on a single policy issue, but based on his approval rating, it's blatant to all of us that he's making his own moves for the executive branch. He should be elated by a chance to take Chris down; none of this makes sense.

Also, how can those golden flecks in his hazel eyes still draw me in after well over a decade?

I'm still unsure why he's here and not his father. Even more curious is why he can't keep his eyes off me. My skin is on fire under his gaze, and I can't seem to keep mine to myself, either.

With my jaw tight, I bite back my words and keep my composure. Mother is right. It would ruin me if the story is that Chris stood me up—it's bad enough some tabloids have dubbed me an ice queen. The safest route is to echo her sentiment. "If you need to sweep the accident under the rug, we need to find another way."

Alex's lips tilt up in a half-smile, and my eyes briefly fall to them before I catch myself. There is absolutely nothing humorous about any of it, and I hate that he's enjoying this. He briefly hums and asks, "Do you actually want to marry my brother?"

His tone isn't accusatory, but I still pierce him with a cold glare and dramatic scoff. "Of course." I have no desire to participate in whatever game he's playing.

He nods thoughtfully. "Then, marry me? " His words steal my breath yet again. The suggestion is absurd, but somehow Alex's odd proposal feels more honest than Chris'. A public relations company staged our engagement—the time, the location… all of it. Unlike today, everything was executed with precision.

"What?" Mother laughs. " You? Don't be ridiculous, Alexander. It would be a bigger scandal than your brother's accident. Absolutely not."

"She's right. You're a damn playboy, not to mention the wrong side of the aisle. You'd ruin her life," Father seethes.

"Just as a stand-in for Chris. No one would know it's me," Alex explains, raising his hands in surrender. "Jaclyn briefly thought I was him when I opened the door; it's not a stretch. So, I marry her in the ceremony. Everyone thinks I'm Chris, and we say ‘Alex' had an emergency. The only one who saw me here was your secret service detail, so as far as everyone else is concerned, I'm not here."

My plans are in flames. After all these years of avoiding each other, why would Alex do this? I can't marry him, even if he's only pretending to be Chris. I'll have to lie to my friends, our families… to God. We were both brought up in the church; he has to know vows aren't empty words.

No, I can't do this.

"Their marriage certificate is already signed," he continues, "except for the officiant and witnesses, correct? So, she'll be married to Christopher, his accident remains a secret, and you—" He pivots to face me, and arrogance drips off him as he purrs, " You , princess, will get your happily ever after." His words are a twisted knife to my heart. He has to know this is just an arrangement, not a happily ever after for me.

I thought agreeing to marry Chris would be like marrying someone like Alex, but the twins share no emotional similarities. It's been years since Alex and I were friends—though I secretly wanted more. Even now, he's one of only a few people who really understands me. My childhood was spent on campaign trails, making it difficult to be able to maintain true friendships. It was lonely—still is. If only Alex and I could've remained close, perhaps he wouldn't be so aloof about this ?

Perhaps if I hadn't listened to my family, Chris wouldn't be in the picture, and I would be marrying Alex instead…

"That's… actually brilliant. It'll smother the scandal for now. She'll do it," Mother accepts before I even have a moment to register what she's agreed to.

"It could work," Father adds, void of emotion and smoothing his beard. "As long as it's temporary."

Small laugh lines appear at the corner of Alex's eyes; he's enjoying this far too much.

"We don't have much time. Alex, go find Lisa. For it to work, none of us breathes a word of this... or the accident," Mother announces indignantly.

"Will anyone tell me what's going on? Where is Chris? Where was the accident? Was he hurt?" My questions come out in rapid succession, glancing between the three of them. Father gives me a knowing look—he'll never tell me. My gaze lowers in submission.

Unfortunately, given my current predicament, marrying Alex appears to be the only viable option for a chance at creating my own happiness. It isn't as if it matters what I want; if it's my father's wish, I'll be marrying Alex within the hour.

"From this moment forward," Mother tells Alex, "you're Christopher Blake. At least until Jerry and your father say otherwise. Is that understood?"

"Hold on," I shout at the same time as Alex replies, "Yes, ma'am. "

Everyone is talking, and my ears are ringing; all I see are lips moving. My whole body silently vibrates, my heart racing to escape my chest, as I pray this is all just a bad dream.

No, this is my reality, and I'll be damned if they destroy everything I've worked for by being careless—they are all rushing into something without considering the small details.

"Stop!" My raised voice is enough for everyone to cease speaking over each other, and face me. "I'll do it, but we need to make sure our stories are straight. Alex— Chris —was in traffic, to account for him being late." I close the distance and grasp his tie with one hand, loosening it with my other. After popping his collar, I slip it over his head and hand it to Mother. "You can't go out there looking like Alex. Take off your jacket." He does as I ask, and I smooth his collar down. My fingers linger longer than they should, and my cheeks heat as I quickly pull away. Mother takes out a small comb from her purse, handing it to me. "Thank you."

I reach up to comb Alex's hair, but he snatches my wrist. "I don't think so."

"You're impossible." Jerking out of his hold, he reluctantly lets me part his hair the same way Chris does. "We don't have any styling gel or pomade, but you need to appear unprepared. It works."

"I'm never unprepared. "

"There's no time for this," Mother grumbles, taking the comb back. "Go find Lisa. While she's not the best event coordinator in the world, she'll at least be able to find you a hair stylist, and whoever has Chris' tux."

"Why did you hire her if she's not good at her job?" he asks with a light chuckle.

"No time, Alex," Mother snaps. "Go!" Then she tells me with less fire, "You too, Jaclyn. It's almost time." I nod, and as Alex begins to walk me out, my father's voice pierces the air. "Jaclyn, you know what's at stake."

Heat creeps up my neck; if steam could come out of my ears, it would. I do not , in fact, know what's at stake, only that my marriage to Chris is part of some elaborate plan of my father's. With a deep sigh, I straighten my posture and paint on a smile. "Of course."

Alex leans in to whisper, "You know, anger looks good on you, wife ."