8. Jaclyn

Chapter 8

Jaclyn

M y father suggested Alex take me to the hospital, instead of a hired driver. "The fewer people who know about this, the better."

The ride is quiet as Alex white-knuckles the steering wheel, his jaw tight as he continuously checks the rearview mirror. He saved my reputation today, but he's so on edge that I'm afraid to even properly thank him. If he's anything like Chris, I don't dare say anything, out of fear of upsetting him further.

Pulling up to a high-rise hotel in Alexandria, I can't handle the silence a moment longer, and tread carefully. "Is this where Chris is staying?"

"No, we had a tail." His tone is clipped, unlike the rest of the evening. "I'm going to get us a couple of rooms for the night. We might be able to sneak out in a few hours." The wedding was for show, and I shouldn't read anything into his kind gestures. I have whiplash from the change.

I sigh, though it comes out more like a grouchy whine. "One room."

"What?" he snaps, finally looking at me.

Hoping to defuse the situation, I keep my tone sweet and quiet. "One room. It'll look suspicious if we get two. We didn't come this far to slip up with a simple mistake."

Alex's shoulders tense, and before he can fight me on this, the valet opens my door. He gets out and hands the key to the valet with a tip and asks, "Could you have someone run our luggage up to the room?"

"Of course, sir. What name is the reservation under?"

Alex looks to me and stammers, "N-no reservation… but the room will be under the last name Taylor."

I frown at Alex as the man nods and begins retrieving our luggage. Sliding my hand into Alex's for show, he lets out an annoyed groan. I never expected him to enjoy the charade, but it's still a blow to my ego that it pains him to hold my hand.

So much for being friends…

Once inside, he leans in to whisper, "I only have my wallet, we'll have to use your card."

It takes me a second, and he's right; how could I be so stupid? If we use his, we'll leave a paper trail blowing our cover—or worse, someone could think I'm cheating with Alex on my wedding night. I squeeze his hand and reply, "I'll take care of it."

Alex keeps his voice quiet. "I'll find a way to repay you."

"No, it's okay. But, thank you."

A sweet smile pulls at his lips for a brief moment. And in that split second, I see the man who has been nothing but kind to me the entire day. Doesn't he see that the least I can do is pay for somewhere to stay for a few hours? Alex doesn't need to pay me back, money is no object; he has to know that. My heart, on the other hand, is aching for the small connection I thought we had at the wedding.

When we approach the reception desk, I insist on a king bed—I can build a pillow wall between us with the extra space. Unfortunately, the only room they have available is a presidential suite with two queen beds.

"There has to be a king available. Should we stay somewhere else?" I plead.

Alex wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head, speaking into my hair, "It's fine, princess. A queen bed means I'll get to keep you close to me all night."

My stomach drops at his fib, and I struggle to find my voice. Chris is never this affectionate, even for the cameras. A naive part of me thought that tonight I was supposed to be living the fairy tale—enveloped in my husband's arms, making love until the sun rises. Though, if I'm being honest with myself, with Chris the lovemaking would last seven and a half minutes before he comes. Then, he'd put on his CPAP mask, leaving me alone with my thoughts for hours in the darkness… orgasmless.

Would Alex do the same? Why do I think he'd make sure I came at least once? Maybe twice.

Shit, I shouldn't be thinking about hypothetical sex with Alex… even with Chris' extracurriculars over the years.

‘Thou shalt not covet thy husband's brother' should be my new commandment.

I put my card on file, and we make our way up to the room. The moment we're in the elevator, Alex takes his hand back and pulls away from me as if I burned him. I lower my head, mumbling, "I'm sorry," and take a step to the side to give him space.

"No," he growls, more forcefully than I expected. " I'm sorry." He rakes his hand through his hair. "I'm exhausted from"—he glances up at the elevator camera—"the eventful day."

"Welcome to my life," I laugh humorlessly and he frowns. I don't explain myself, on the off chance he's onto something and someone is listening in. It isn't easy pretending to be someone you're not; I don't blame him for being short with me. "It's been a long day; we should get some sleep."

"We need to see him in a few hours," he regretfully sighs.

"Can you message your father and tell him we had to stop here for the night? Maybe go in the morning, instead? "

Agony is etched in his irises, and I can't figure out why. "Is that what you want?"

I want to stop wondering what it would be like if things were different and I married you instead.

The elevator dings, the doors opening to a dimly lit floor. We step out and find our room; Alex doesn't reach for my hand, and I don't seek his out. I walk behind him, not wanting to address his question because, honestly, I don't know what I want. He stops, waiting for me to walk beside him for the final steps, then swipes the keycard against the sensor. As he opens the door wide for me to step in, my shoulder accidentally brushes his chest, and a rumble comes from him at the innocent touch.

If he hates me so much, why did he agree to this?

The door shuts, and I take in the room. For a presidential suite, it looks more like one of the motels my family stayed at while my father was on the campaign trail. I can't help but smile at the memories—life before I was a President's daughter. There's a small loveseat with matching side chairs, an old wooden coffee table, an undoubtedly neglected kitchenette, and a door separating the living space from the bedroom. As I begin walking toward it, Alex catches me by the wrist. His hold is firm. When I meet his eyes, his voice is strained as he asks, "What do you want, Jaclyn?"

"Why do you care? I already told you, it doesn't matter what I want," I reply breathlessly .

"If you want to see Chris right now, I'll find a way to make it happen. But if you're drained from everything, or not up for it, I can insist we go in the morning. So, what do you want to do?"

It isn't what I thought he would be asking from me. Unfortunately, my loose tongue has a mind of its own. "What I want is to be free of the lies!" My hands fly to my mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout."

"No, go on." Alex's charming, flirtatious smile from earlier today appears.

I want for you to not disappear when this is all over and… a husband who loves me.

Straightening my posture, I opt for a toned-down version of the truth. "I want this to be over, to have a real wedding. I want…" Love and respect. I want to be happy . I lower and shake my head in shame, unable to speak it. In all the ways that truly matter, I'm married to Alex. And the more time I spend with him, the more I wish it was his name on the marriage certificate, not Chris'.

All of this is a mess.

Alex takes a slow step toward me, then another. "A husband who loves and respects you?"

Did I say it out loud?

"How did you…?"

"Because I, too, want a partner who loves and respects me. Who treats me as if I'm the center of their universe, who craves me when I'm not with them. Someone who loves me through all of my flaws… Am I getting close?"

"Are you saying I'm flawed?" I tease, and Alex's eyes darken.

"To Chris?" He shakes his head with anguish in his expression. "No, you're perfect."

"And you?"

He swallows thickly and lets out a huffed sigh. "Your only flaw is that you were born for greatness but are settling for less than you deserve." There isn't a hint of sarcasm. Alex rubs a hand over his face, his voice muffled. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"You think I'm born for greatness?" I ask carefully, taking a step toward him.

"Your foundation for the protection of cherry blossom trees isn't exactly going to help your chances when you run for office. You're capable of so much more than you're settling for."

"Hey! The cherry blossoms need protecting," I deadpan, failing to hide my smile. He's right; it's a fucking joke.

"They bloom for a month a year!" he chuckles, and it's the lightest I've felt since we stepped into the room. "What are you doing for the other eleven?"

I narrow my eyes playfully at him. "Cherry blossoms are in our hearts year-round… But it's my mother's foundation, I'm just on the board. "

Alex lets out a hearty laugh, small crinkles forming around his eyes. "We may need to work on your branding when you run for office. Maybe add in a few more pertinent issues for you to get behind than pretty trees."

Cocking an eyebrow, I insist, "I'm not running for office."

"I thought you said you want to be free of the lies?" He mirrors my expression, and, damn it , he's got me there. I've never felt more seen, stripped bare in a single question.

I reach up and begin unpinning my hair, haphazardly tossing the pins onto a small table one-by-one. "You want the truth? I'll help my husband run for President, bide my time as the perfect First Lady, and campaign for a representative seat in the midterms after his eight years."

"Or, you could let him wait and run in the midterm election in three." He shrugs, then gestures for me to turn around to help me pull out the last few dozen bobby pins. I spin, and his warm breath tickles my neck as he whispers, "Congresswoman Taylor has a nice ring to it."

Goosebumps cascade down my arms, though not from his suggestion; the sheer proximity has me on edge. "My experience is lacking, as you so aptly pointed out."

"You're married to a senator, you're the daughter of a former president. And if your last name isn't a foot in the door, you finished valedictorian for undergrad. Rumor has it that you finished top in your class at law school as well." How does he know about my J.D.? He lowers his voice slightly as he adds, "You're more than a cherry blossom conservationist, Jaclyn."

Alex pulls a pin from my hair, then traces his finger from my ear to my bare shoulder, and I find myself wishing it was his tongue. My impure thoughts rattle me, and I accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Quickly pivoting to assess the damage I've inflicted, I find him gripping his middle.

"Shit, Alex, I'm so sorry!"

He laughs through the pain, "No, I should've been more careful. I didn't mean to tickle you."

Tickle me? Is that what he thought that was?

"Right, yes, well… I'm very sensitive." I check him over, pulling his arm away and pressing my hand to the middle of his chest. Though with his shirt on, I have no idea what I'm doing—not that I'd know what to look for if he was shirtless. "Are you all right?"

"No, definitely not."

I glance up, finding no hazel in his dark irises, swiftly pulling my hand back. "I think you're right. It's been a long night. It would be best to get some sleep."

There's a knock at the door, making me jump, and as I sigh out a long breath, Alex answers it. I'm grateful for the reprieve as the bellman pulls in our two large suitcases on a dolly and unloads them from the cart. Alex tips him, and once the door closes, he groans to himself. "Here's to hoping my brother's clothes fit me. Why don't you take a shower first and I'll send a message to my father that we'll come by tomorrow?"

I nod and take my suitcase into the bedroom, tossing it onto one of the mattresses. He does the same on the other bed. With his hand poised to unzip it, I lift mine to stop him. "Wait!"

"What's wrong?" He steps back, hands surrendered.

"The housekeepers. They'll notice two unmade beds in the morning. All it'll take is one of them talking and the headlines will read: Jaclyn and Chris Blake Fail to Consummate Marriage. "

"Ah, we can't have that, can we?" he laughs. "It's fine, I'll take the couch."

"It's hardly a couch; it'll only fit half your body. We're both adults. We can share a bed."

"No." His jaw tics. "We can't."

"Why the hell not?" I open my suitcase, and after a quick once over, I realize I don't have pajamas to stay the night with him—I typically sleep naked. Pulling out a pair of red lacy underwear, I quickly hide them in black leggings and a heather gray tank top.

I look over at Alex rummaging through Chris' suitcase as he mutters, "Fucking boxers? You have to be kidding me."

"What's wrong with boxers?" I ask curiously, clutching my clothes to my chest. "Don't tell me you have a bill coming up for textiles, too. "

"No." He shakes his head, a small smile threatening to appear. "I just prefer boxer briefs. No political agenda items surrounding clothing in the near future." His answer leaves me unsatisfied; I enjoyed our banter from the reception.

I rush to the bathroom and set down my clothes, then take out the remaining pins from my hair. Realizing I've forgotten my skincare items, I step back into the bedroom to retrieve them, only to find Alex wearing black boxer briefs and taking off his white form-fitting undershirt. I manage to catch a glimpse of his toned abs as he lifts it, the muscle definition trailing from the top of his hip, dipping lower beneath his?—

"Like what you see, princess?" Alex pulls his shirt back down.

I avert my eyes and yelp, "Sorry! I was getting my makeup case. I didn't know you were changing."

I peek through my fingers, as he takes out a tee from the suitcase. "It's too warm for the joggers he packed. So, if I'm only wearing underwear, we're not sleeping in the same bed."

"It's one night. It'll be fine," I scoff, pulling my hand down and turning my body away from him. "I'll put a pillow between us."

I sense him approaching, making a shiver run down my limbs in anticipation. "Do you really think that's the best idea?" The timbre of his voice is low and sultry .

Probably not...

For years, Chris has been unfaithful, but that doesn't mean I have a green light to do the same; two wrongs don't make a right. Confidence sets in as I remind myself that Alex is a gentleman and he'd never try anything.

I shut my eyes tight. "No, I just don't want us to get caught in this lie. We need it to look like we're happy newlyweds."

"And if you wake up in my arms tomorrow morning?" I turn to face him, and he tilts my chin up. When I open my eyes, there's no trace of humor on his face. My cheeks are hot, and a blush creeps from my neck and chest.

"I won't."

Leaning in, his cheek grazes mine, his admission coming out as a purr, "What if I want you to?"

So much for him being a gentleman…