5. Roni

One of Dad's most trusted agents escorted me down to the Oval Office and opened the door for me.

"Thanks, Charles," I said with a nod.

He gave me a playful wink, as if we shared a secret. "No problem, Roni."

I smiled at his use of my nickname. Most agents used my full name—Veronica, but not Charles. He was probably around my dad's age and staring down the barrel of retirement. Anytime I asked him about it, he'd wave me off about it like he'd never heard of the word. He'd told me protecting the executive office was his life's work, and he didn't know what he'd do without it. He'd protected six presidents and planned on reaching a seventh.

I stepped into the office and found Dad seated on one couch and Diego on the other.

He looked good; time had aged him well. Of course it had. He tried to do everything better than me—and in the maturing department, it appeared he was successful.

The longer I stared, the more flustered I felt myself becoming. Diego was just as hot as I remembered him. The photos I found online didn't do him justice. They didn't capture the confidence or the swagger that seemed to surround him. The man oozed competence—he was in the same room as my father and didn't appear to be shitting himself. I was almost impressed. His dark hair was perfectly cut and styled to be just a little longer on the top. Tiny specs of gray were sprinkled throughout—much less than I'd have if I didn't color over it.

He had a nose that was slightly crooked, likely from a fight of some sort, but it suited him. While stalking him online, I discovered he wasn't extremely large compared to a couple of his friends, but he had a nice set of abs that ended with a perfect V. None of that was visible in the nice suit he wore. He looked like a soldier, while I just looked average.

I'd been so glad to put Diego's perfect ass behind me when we relocated to Washington. I'd spent years plotting on how to beat him at everything, and I wasn't sure how to see him as anything other than my competition. We both wanted to be at the top of the class and get accepted into the better college. That competitive nature made us enemies. It became an all-consuming need to beat him, to knock the smug smile off his face. He was so sure he could beat me in everything that he upped his game when my father announced his candidacy for president. From that point on, it only fanned the flames until Dad won and we relocated.

That last day of school felt like freedom. I broke into his locker and stole all of his text books… Call it petty, but I wanted to screw him over one last time. My only regret was not seeing the look of rage when he realized he'd no longer be able to retaliate against me.

Diego's eyes locked with mine as I approached. His were hazel, a mixture of browns and greens, reminding me of the woods back in Oregon. His teeth were white and straight. His lips looked absolutely kissable. I saw no hint of anything that pointed to his prior military service except for his haircut—it didn't touch his ears.

Don't ask me how I know that. I watch way too many military movies.

I continued to stare, and he did the same. It was as if the puberty fairy hit him with a whole mack-truck's worth of testosterone and muscles, and I couldn't help but appreciate them. I'd give my dad credit: while I absolutely loathed the plan and everything it stood for, he picked an attractive man to play my fake boyfriend. My father had no idea that Diego was the bane of my existence for a time. Not even his Secret Service agents were good enough to piece that together. It was an unspoken vow between us, only demonstrated in glances and actions—not words witnessed by others.

The longer I'd spent thinking about the arrangement, the more I thought about how this was the finishing touch on the competitive games we played. Yes, he served his nation's call, and by the looks of it he was the perfect soldier—but I was the freaking president's daughter. That had to drive him crazy, right? There was no way he could compete with that. It was the silver lining to this shitty fucking cloud. I won.

As I stepped closer to him and my father, the man stood and extended his hand to me for a handshake.

"Roni, it's good to see you again." His tone was cautious, as if he was extending his hand toward a wild bear, wondering if I'd swallow the hand whole or let him close.

After all these years, it was good to see him, too, even if he'd made my life hell. My life had been dull—boring as of late. Diego's sudden appearance created a challenge—some excitement. Maybe it was exactly what I needed to make it through Nina's murder and my exile from the White House. I needed something that would actually push me, and I had no doubt that Diego still had that competitive streak. Freaking look at him.

"Likewise," I said stoically, ignoring his hand. I would not give him the satisfaction that I was the tiniest bit pleased by his presence. Then he'd feel as if he won, that he was in charge.

He awkwardly pulled his hand back when he realized I wasn't going to shake it.

"Veronica," Dad hissed.

I rolled my eyes. I wouldn't let any man think they had control over me, my dad included. "Dad, we've been over this. I'll play nice while others are watching, but I'm not happy, and I'm not going to pretend to be. This is bullshit," I said, making my feelings known to Diego. I didn't want to go off-grid—I didn't want to give up everything because some big baddie behind a computer screen was making threats and killing innocent women. How ironic, given I was running from this place only a few nights ago. I'd hated how smothering this place had become—but now that I was being forced from it, suddenly I didn't want to leave. I didn't like anyone deciding my future, even if I didn't know what I wanted for myself. I wasted enough years being what others wanted me to be. Law school, prestigious events, certain relationships—all wasted time.

"Veronica, for the love of God, just be nice. Don't make Diego's job any harder than it needs to be," Dad said with a groan.

He looked like he was ready to start apologizing to the guy on my behalf.

Always the politician.

"No, there's no need to pretend. I get it, this is a lot of change, and it's happening very quickly. I have no expectations that you will be happy with the arrangement, and I'm not asking you to be nice. The only thing I require is that you follow directions. My goal will obviously be your safety. If I'm instructing you to do something, it's with the strict purpose of keeping you alive. If you can follow my instructions, we'll be fine," Diego offered.

His eyes were on my face, and I could practically feel the intensity of his stare on my skin. It almost distracted me from the fact that he'd be bossing me around when we went off-grid. He'd think he won.

"Got it," I said, maintaining my cold voice. It would be a cold day in Hell if I ever let Diego Garcia think he had any power over me. It didn't matter how delicious he'd become. I knew in his core he was still the same—competitive and stuck up his own ass.

Dad looked back and forth between us, slowly shaking his head. His fingers rubbed his eyes in frustration. Maybe he was finally coming to the conclusion that no matter where I went, a trail of unhappiness would follow, leading anyone straight to me.

"Look, you are supposed to pretend to be a couple. Veronica, you are going to have to lose the ice queen act." He paused and let out a sigh. After that, his voice softened. "I know Nina's funeral is today and this is very difficult for you, but the arrangement starts today."

I rolled my eyes at my dad's insult. Ice queen, how original.

As if calling me ice queen would hurt my feelings enough to make me play nice.

"Today?" Diego asked.

"Yes, today. Nina's funeral is today, and I need to be protected. We quietly show up together, let the media speculate about us for a little while, then get the hell out. Did my father not explain anything to you?" I huffed. My tone was laced with the annoyance I felt. For someone who wanted to be in charge, he knew very little.

Of course my dad would ask me to do something selfish, like use my friend's funeral as the place to make national headlines.

"No, I hadn't gotten there yet," Dad said with a guilty half shrug.

"Oh," Diego said.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Dad asked.

"Not at all." Diego's shoulders straightened.

"Great. Veronica, are you ready to go?" Dad asked.

I simply nodded. Diego scanned me up and down, as if he suddenly realized that I was dressed in all black. My hair and makeup were done, and I was camera ready. So much for his observation skills…

"After you." Dad gestured to the door, and Diego shuffled to it. I reluctantly followed. It felt like I was being marched to my own funeral. I didn't want to say goodbye to Nina, especially not in public.

We were escorted back through the White House and down to the Beast, the presidential vehicle. The thing was heavily armored. Several identical vehicles sat beside it.

"We'll see you there," Dad said as he leaned in and kissed my cheek.

Mom squeezed my hand and copied my dad's gesture. She quickly checked out Diego before she gave him a small nod of approval and slipped into the Beast. Father slipped in after her. The suits got into the vehicle, and then they were off. The presidential motorcade had started.

"Why are we going in a separate vehicle?" Diego asked.

"Protocol. They don't want the full presidential family riding together, especially with the new…situation." I watched the Beast pull up closer to the gate and then stop as they waited for us to get in our vehicle.

"Wow, that's…."

"Selfish. He also wants us to make an entrance. The larger the motorcade, the bigger the deal," I said, cutting him off. He could put my life in jeopardy by taking this job but couldn't assume the same risk. I knew we weren't held to the same standard. While he was the president, his life would always be worth more than mine. Talk about fucked-up family issues…

"That last bit is…unexpected," he finished.

"Newsflash, everything my dad does is political. The sooner you get used to that, the easier it will be to adapt." Bitterness laced my tone. I hated that Diego saw just how unhappy I was; he'd think he won. My life was miserable—but there was no way in hell I could pretend to be sunshine and rainbows. Even the sport of winning wasn't worth lying to myself like that.

There was a time when we were happy, before everything became political—but it had faded almost completely from my memory.

The door to our Suburban was opened for me. I slipped in, and then Diego followed.

We remained silent for a moment as we took in the awkwardness of being alone, aside from the two suits in the front. "I'm sorry for your loss." Diego's sympathies were soft. The vehicle moved forward, and all I wanted to do was put my fist through the glass. Even that would fail, though, bulletproof glass and all.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He studied me for a moment, and it felt like the interior of the SUV became supercharged. "I don't think it's tasteful to announce a relationship at a funeral. I know we have a rough history, and you might not like me very much, but I don't want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. I still strive for perfection, and I see you are still full of that spiteful fire, but I developed some emotional maturity since we've last seen each other. I may be on your father's payroll for the time being, but I don't want you to think of me as his goon. I'll just stick close enough to you to do my job, create some mystique, and leave it at that. There's no need for an uncomfortable show of PDA today. It's already an unpleasant day."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if his words were sincere. He seemed genuine, and that surprised me. He was absolutely right: I was still fiery, and I certainly wasn't capable of waving a white flag—I didn't think I ever would be. I'd expected him to follow my dad's orders to the tee, like a good little soldier. He'd made it very clear we should make the media speculate we were together. Hand holding was encouraged, even as far as a kiss on the cheek. The thought sickened me. Not because Diego was repulsive. In fact, he was the opposite. I didn't want Nina's funeral to be about me; she deserved her own day.

I nodded my head in agreement. "Thank you," I repeated my words. This time I meant them a little more. He was going to ignore my dad's suggestions to make me more comfortable, and to respect Nina. It was the least he could do, though.

He looked away, as if it were no big deal. For anyone else, it wouldn't be—but with our past, it was monumental. "Of course. If you need anything during the service, or you need to leave, just let me know. That's what I'm here for…as your fake boyfriend and all."

"Shhh!" I shushed him immediately.

His eyes widened, and his head snapped back. He looked at me like I grew a third eye.

I snuck a peek at the suits in the front seat and let out a relieved huff. They were lost in their own conversation, not paying attention to ours. I shot Diego a glance. "While my dad's office might be free to discuss those sorts of things, the vehicles are not. Actually most places in the White House or on our transportation are not. It's all monitored by others," I said, suggesting that there were ears everywhere.

"Got it," he said immediately. He had the decency to at least look ashamed of being so stupid. He was way out of his depth. Dad was kind of an asshole for pushing him into the deep end and expecting him to know how to swim—metaphorically speaking. I was sure he had a perfect breast stroke.

I sat back in my seat and quietly admired him as he looked around the interior of our vehicle—and I hated myself for liking what I saw. Diego was out of his element, but I could still feel the aura of confidence that surrounded him. He sat straight in his seat, his hands clasped in front of him. My eyes traveled over the gun that he'd been given by Martin. It peeked out from where his jacket caught the edge of the holster. I was under the impression that not many people were supposed to know about it. Diego had been given a pass, so he didn't have to go through a thorough security check, and he had access to the residential portion of the building.

His foot tapped lightly on the floor.

"We need to come up with a safe word," he said, breaking our uncomfortable silence.

"Why would we need a safe word? I don't plan on letting you get close enough to me to do some domination-type shit," I said with some snark. As if I'd let myself lose control in front of Diego Garcia.

His eyes narrowed for a brief second, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly like he fought the urge to grin.

"Not a sexual safe word, Roni. I can promise you, if we ever crossed that line, there is no safe word in the world that would keep me from bringing you ultimate toe-curling pleasure. I'm suggesting a safe word in case you are in any situation you need out of."

I felt my face heat up at his words. Suddenly, the interior of the large SUV was suddenly much too small, and I'd pay a small fortune to be allowed to roll down the window. I needed fresh air. Now. The idea of Diego stripping me from my clothes and worshipping my body had me so flustered I felt ashamed. I was going to my friend's funeral; I shouldn't be horny.

He continued on as if he were oblivious as to what he'd done to me. "You are going to be at a funeral. You'd think someone wouldn't do something so heartless as try to kill you there, but you'd be surprised. The world is a cruel and twisted place. If you are uncomfortable, then we need a word you can say even in a group of people so I know to get you out."

He certainly seemed like a professional, and I was going to enjoy pushing his boundaries. I wouldn't start today, but tomorrow was fair game.

"Mangos," I said with a smirk.

I needed some kind of humor to lighten the air. I was about to smother in hormones and grief. I didn't want to think of Diego as anything other than my fake boyfriend or bodyguard. I couldn't let him catch me off guard with some nice guy act only to have him crush me the moment this arrangement was over. He was not my friend; he was Dad's hired gun. It would be best if I remembered that.

I had a hard time letting anyone in; my personality wasn't for most people. That's why from the moment Dad started his political career, I learned how to shut up. I knew my mouth would get him in trouble faster than his good intentions. Nina had seen through that, though, and that's why she had been so special to me. She was one of the few friends I allowed myself to have, because she didn't care what I said. My thoughts usually echoed hers, but I was the one brave enough to say them. Now I would have to continue speaking for the both of us, and I wasn't going to change. My words would continue to get me in trouble, but now I had a way out. Mangos.

"Mangos it is. Any reason for the choice?" he asked with a tight-lipped smile.

"I'm allergic."

"Are you allergic to anything else?" he asked.

"Just bullshit," I countered.

He chuckled at my response.

We sat in another minute of silence before the SUV stopped in front of the church.

Diego gave me a worried glance before he stepped out of the vehicle and looked around. When he was satisfied there was no immediate threat of danger, he turned around and indicated it was okay to exit.

He held his hand out to help me climb out. Once I was standing, I dropped his hand and walked toward the church. I looked around, determined to commit everything about this day to memory. It was a reminder of what happened to those who got too close to my family.

The sky was gray, and the air was filled with fog. It looked as if the sky wanted to dump buckets of rain on me. It reflected my mood. I was sure Nina was pulling strings to keep it from falling—knowing I wasn't a fan. She enjoyed days like today; it reminded her of our trip to Washington State. She fell in love with the place. I'd never be able to go back without thinking about her.

I wouldn't have cared if the sky opened up and flooded the streets while I stared up at it. I would have loved to melt into the water and let it carry me away. Instead, I was stuck here as a spectacle. A pawn in a deadly game of chess—one I never wanted to join. Instead, others were calling the shots, moving me across a board.

When I lowered my eyes away from the sky, I noticed the line of cameras and reporters at the perimeter of the church grounds. Security held them at a respectable distance, but I had no doubts that those cameras had good zoom and microphones. None of this was private, despite the distance the media pretended to give.

Diego remained by my side, the pillar of patience as I struggled with what to do next. I needed to enter the church and seek out Nina's mom and dad, but I didn't want to go in and come face to face with the evidence that Nina was truly gone. Funeral homes smelled too strongly of flowers, to cover up the smell of death and chemicals. I knew the moment I walked into the room, I'd want to gag. I wouldn't even be able to do that. I had to be the strong best friend there showing my support.

As if he sensed my inner turmoil, Diego tried to put me at ease. "Take your time. You still have fifteen minutes before they are scheduled to start."

I stared up at him and struggled to rein in my emotions. I was usually much stronger than this, but I had to cut myself some slack. My best friend was in that church in a wooden box. It didn't matter that this was Diego Garcia and we were in an eternal war with each other. He'd cast that aside for the moment; he'd made it okay for me to feel something.

I was used to being rushed into everything. Being the president's daughter came hand in hand with tight schedules and demands for my time. Yet Diego was willing to stand out here with me as I stared up at the sky and wished that it would swallow me whole. He was right; he'd definitely become more mature. Thank God for that. Maybe this whole fake-dating experience wouldn't be quite as bad as I had anticipated. At least, if he could keep up the maturity…

"Roni, is that you?"

I looked over to the stairs of the church and saw Nina's mom standing there. I turned and ran up the stairs and straight into her open arms.

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled into her shoulder. Emotion suddenly overcame me, and I couldn't hold back the floodgate of tears. I really liked Nina's mom. She was warm and loving and did her best to give me the things I hadn't gotten from my own family in so long.

"I know you are, baby. She loved you, you know that?" she asked as she rubbed her hand on the back of my head in a soothing motion.

I nodded as I sniffled.

The woman was more motherly to me than the one who birthed me. Ms. Johnson was the epitome of a good mother. While her husband was a politician, she never bought into the whole "being the perfect wife" shit that the rest of the families in D.C. did. She cared about her family, and the rest of the world be damned. I was part of that family because of Nina. What would happen between us now that she was gone? Would time march on, and would they forget about me?

She pulled back and wiped the tears from my eyes. "Who's the handsome man?" Ms. Johnson whispered.

"My boyfriend," I mumbled as I pulled away. I hated lying to her.

He stood a respectful distance away. It was enough to give us our privacy but close enough to whisk me out of harm's way if the need arose. Just like a good suit.

"He's nice to look at," she commented as she wiped away a few more tears. Her hands fidgeted and then moved to soothe my stray hairs.

I reached out and did the same to hers.

I shrugged. "I guess so." My smile was tight lipped.

"We're going to start soon," she said, changing the subject. "Come sit with us—bring your boyfriend."

I sniffled again. "Are you sure? The first pew is always reserved for the family."

"You are her family. You are the sister she always prayed for," she answered immediately with a tight-lipped smile of her own.

"Okay," I said with a gentle nod of my head.

I nodded my head to Diego. He quickly closed the distance between us.

"Diego, this is Ms. Johnson, Nina's mom. She invited us to sit with her and her husband. He's the senator for Virginia," I said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I'm sorry for your loss," Diego said without missing a beat. He extended his hand to shake hers.

She politely shook his hand and gave him a small smile.

"Thank you, Diego. If Nina were alive to see you two together, she'd pee herself in excitement." She looked up at the sky as if she were searching for some sign that Nina was watching. "Let's go inside before the sky decides it wants to cry for us."

We followed her into the church and down the aisle. She accepted hugs from the occasional person, until we found the front right pew. Mr. Johnson was sitting there, staring at his daughter's casket. His eyes looked sunken and hollow. He looked thinner, as if he'd stopped eating weeks ago. Nina's only been gone for a few days.

I made it a point not to look in the casket's direction. Not yet. Not while eyes were on me. I'd rather wait until the service started and people were focused on the minister's message instead.

"Mr. Johnson," I said, announcing our presence.

His head snapped to the left, startled. "Roni, how are you?" He stood and gave me a brief hug.

"I've been better. I'm sure you feel the same," I said.

"The understatement of the year," he said as he looked between me and Diego.

"This is Diego, Roni's boyfriend," Ms. Johnson said.

"It's good to meet you. I imagine Nina's squealing in Heaven at that news," Mr. Johnson said, extending his hand.

"You too, sir," Diego answered as they shook hands. His face blushed slightly at the idea of a dead woman being happy about his existence.

The minister approached the podium next to Nina's casket, and he asked the room for silence. We sat down in our pew, and he began the service.

Mr. Johnson sat on the end with his wife next to him. I was sandwiched in between her and Diego. It was while I had the warmth of their arms against mine that I dared to look at Nina in her casket.

Her straight red hair laid smooth over her shoulders. Her hands were crossed over the stomach of a pretty green dress. Her skin was pale, but she appeared peaceful, as if she were only sleeping.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. I tried to blink them back but failed miserably. I saw Diego glance in my direction, and then he pulled the pocket square from his suit jacket and passed it to me.

He talked about how short life was and how bright a light Nina was, that it was up to us to carry on her memory. The message resonated with me more than I'd expected. Before I knew it, the service was over. The casket was closed and loaded into the back of the hearse, which headed for the grave site. My parents had chosen to avoid me during the service, but now on the church steps where we all congregated, they approached as I stood with Nina's parents.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Senator," Dad said to Nina's dad.

"Thank you, Mr. President," he answered.

My father clasped him on the shoulder and then bent forward to hug Ms. Johnson. "I would go with you to the internment, but something has come up, and I need to return to the Oval. Veronica, will you attend in my place?" he asked, looking down at me.

As if I would miss it.

"Of course," I replied with a fake half smile.

He and Mom kissed my cheek and clasped Diego on the shoulder for show before walking away.

I'm sure the cameras were all over that.

"Let's go, dear. I think they are ready for us," Nina's mom said. She took my hand and led me to the limo reserved for the family behind the hearse. Diego and Mr. Johnson were on our heels.