Chapter Thirty-­Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cecelia

B uttoning his jacket, earpiece in place, Tyler exits the limo and leads us into an underground entrance. We walk down a long, lifeless corridor and enter the elevator. Minutes later, we step into the Oval Office as the President hovers over his wife, who seems to be giving him hell from where she sits on the couch.

"—you stubborn ass."

"Baby, don't be rude—" he glances up, his politician's smile firmly in place—"we have company."

The First Lady directs her attention to us, her scowl giving way to a playful smile as she stands. The President's eyes land on Tobias a second before they rush toward the other, doing the man clap thing and holding their embrace for a few lingering seconds.

"It's been too long," the President says as they break and take a seconds-long look at each other before his eyes roll over Tobias in appraisal. "Nice suit. You look good, brother."

"And you look like shit," Tobias quips.

"Goes with the job. I'm projected to look mid-forties by the end of my first term."

His wife speaks up. "I've told you a thousand times not to pay attention to that bullshit. "

The President's sparkling eyes find me, and I'm so flustered by the sight of him that I flush.

"I can see why you have taken an interest in Virginia."

Tobias turns, pride in his eyes as he reaches for me and introduces me to them both.

"Mr. President—"

"Cut the crap, King," the First Lady says.

"This is Cecelia Horner."

"So nice to meet you, sir," I say, pumping his hand, my voice shaking at the reality I'm currently in. Mere hours ago, I was in Virginia, fighting with Tobias in a closet as he ripped my panties off, licking me senseless while demanding I pick out a dress. Now I'm standing in the Oval Office.

"Call me Preston."

"And I'm Molly," his wife adds, her eyes sweeping me. "So, you're the one that got away."

"I didn't run far enough, apparently."

Her eyes light with her laugh. "I hope you're giving him hell."

"She is," Tobias chimes in.

"It's truly an honor to meet you both," I say, allowing myself the moment. Molly Monroe has been a sort of idol for me since the campaign trail. No bullshit in her delivery, both on and off camera, and she constantly rains hell on the media. She's very much "what you see is what you get" in an "in your face" way. She seems to truly care about the work she's doing, has amazing fashion sense, and doesn't seem to give two shits about outsiders' opinions.

"You'll have to excuse my outburst when you got here. My jackass of a husband seems to think calling my bluff on quitting time is a good idea. He's under some notion that he's boss."

Preston looks our way, his eyes wary. "I had my pick of debutantes from every state to choose from, and I happened to pick the sassiest, most stubborn woman alive to badger me until death do us part."

"Which will be a premature death if you keep jacking your jaws," Molly tells him off without sparing him a glance, and I can't help my laugh. Tyler signals to all of us that he'll be back and gives me a wink before he shuts the door.

"I've got a helicopter ride, a little air tour of D.C. set up for us girls, while the boys talk business."

I hesitate because I don't want to be outside of the room when it happens, but this isn't a club meeting, this is the United States government, and I just have to try and trust that my boys will keep me in the loop.

"That sounds incredible," I say honestly.

"Don't steal her away just yet," Preston speaks up before taking a seat on the couch.

"You up for a mimosa?" Molly asks, lifting two flutes from a ready tray. "I know Preston woke you up early, but I've got a boring as hell day ahead, and I could use a little numbing."

"Sure," I say, glancing over to Tobias, who stares back at me like I'm the most important person in the room. I can see the clear "I love you" in his eyes and have to dart mine away when our connection gets to be too much for the situation.

"Wow, that's refreshing to see, isn't it, Pres?" Molly asks, a hint of her Boston accent sneaking through as I take the offered drink.

"Sure is, take notes," he snarks, gripping her wrist just as she lifts the flute to her lips. "Only one for you," he instructs before looking between Tobias and me. "We're doing IVF. That's why she's lost her damn mind lately. I'm pretty sure she's about to start challenging our guys to arm wrestling."

They've been open about their journey to start a family in the media, but to see them talking about it so openly has me a little awestruck. It's painfully apparent they want to become parents so badly to resemble the true definition of a First Family, and I hope with all my heart it becomes a reality.

"If I've lost my mind," she quips, "it's because I married a man capable of running a country but has zero hang time."

" Gives , baby, let's be careful with the verbiage, gives you zero hang time, lately," he corrects pointedly. "Let's not poke holes in my manhood today, tiger. And rest assured, I'm going to put a baby in you tonight ," Preston fires back, his voice heating. "And five more after, so you have six replicas of me to deal with on the daily."

They share a hopeful look, and I can see some of the heartbreak in Molly's eyes when she turns to me.

"It's our fourth try. But it's going to happen this time," she whispers. "I can feel it." She snatches another mimosa off the tray and dares Preston to object. He squeezes her knee in encouragement as he kicks back and crosses one leg over the other. I can't help but take in how beautiful he is in person. The camera truly doesn't do him enough justice.

"I can't believe you two went to school together."

"Good times," Preston says. "I bet he never told you about the night he saved my life."

"That's a stretch," Tobias says.

"The hell it is," Preston retorts.

"I guess I owe you, Tobias." Molly shrugs. "Or do I ?"

"Keep it up, woman." Preston smiles at his wife, his eyes thirsty as he rolls them over her, giving Tobias and I another peek inside their private life. Tobias grips my hand in his, and Preston clears his throat when Tyler walks in.

"Ready to do this?" Preston asks, standing.

"To hell with that, you're going to eat your breakfast first, then business."

"Molly—"

She turns to him, her stare murderous, and he bites his fist before shaking it at her. And it's then I fall for them both.

Tobias bursts into laughter across the table from Preston, and the sound of it has me pausing mid-conversation with Molly. I haven't heard him laugh like that in years, if ever , and I dart my gaze between the two of them, a little awestruck.

"We're lucky, aren't we?" Molly asks, sipping the orange juice she switched to after her second glass. She looks between the two of them as they talk. "We're sitting with the two most powerful men in the world, but that isn't what makes it so special. If anything, it makes it harder to love them, not to respect them, but to love them, doesn't it?"

I nod.

"But that's what makes us s pecial," she continues. "This isn't just a courtship of boy meets girl. They fall in love, yadda, yadda. This is a lifelong commitment to men who aren't satisfied living ordinary lives. It sometimes seems more of an obsession than a mission. One that can test a woman to her absolute limits." She grins over at me. "But for him, for that man , I'll do it. I'll be there when he fucks up so badly he can't celebrate how good he is or what he's done. I'll be there whenever he doubts himself and our relationship suffers because of those doubts. I'll be there with my hair done, and my lipstick on, in my best heels, with my head held high on his darkest days, because that's what he needs. And I don't want him changing. I don't want him to stop being who he is, not ever, not for me, and not for any baby we make." She turns her gaze to me. "But I will use the tips of these heels to pierce and pin his brass balls down if he ever stops giving me what I need." She winks and takes another sip of her OJ, and from the sparkle in her eye, I can see it might not all be juice. Heat licks my profile, and I know he's watching me, curious about our hushed conversation.

She glances at Tobias, a soft smile on her lips before she turns and zeroes in on me. "Do you have a good set of heels, Cecelia?"

"Already wearing them," I assure her, taking a sip of my drink after we clink glasses.

Standing in The State Dining Room of the White House two hours later, I look up at Healy's portrait of Lincoln hanging over the mantel and marvel at the fact I'm here. I'm exhausted but running on adrenaline due to all that's transpired and the fact that I have the First Lady's personal cell phone number. I gaze up at Honest Abe, wondering how honest he really was and curious if he ever got his hands dirty—or had a similar monster, one remotely close to the one my man deals with. I stare on entranced until I feel him , a different kind of man, one far more aggressive in his approach to seek justice as he circles my waist and nuzzles me.

"How did it go?"

"Really well."

"You mean that?"

"I'm surprised at how happy I am."

"Good." I swallow. "I'll drag the details out of you soon."

"I'll give them all to you after some sleep. You'll be in on the next meeting. I made sure of it."

I nod and turn to him. "You know it's not fair," I say softly.

"What's not fair?"

"You deserve recognition for what you've done the same as any of these others. I know they've all gotten their hands dirty at one point. Maybe they had their own monsters. None of them are innocent. You deserve... so much more. You deserve to be recognized for what you've done, Tobias."

"I didn't do it the honest way," he says easily. "And even if their hands weren't clean, they gave the impression they were. A lot of them were good men weighed down by others. And I don't give a fuck about notoriety."

"I knew you would say that."

"Because it's true. The only opinion, the only reflection I care about, is looking right back at me. And as long as she's staring at me the way she is, I consider myself both validated and recognized ."

"I see you. Even what you hide."

He pauses before kissing me briefly, eyeing Abe behind me. "As sexy as it may seem to christen the White House, and for a moment, Trésor, I briefly entertained it, there are far too many dead men with watchful eyes here."

I laugh and hug him to me as he whispers sweetly into my ear. "Let's go home."

"Lead the way, my King."