Page 6 of Power
“I have a ten-year-old daughter.”
“I know, Emily. She attends one of the best private boarding schools in Washington, maybe even the country.”
“Yes, because I don’t want her knowing what I do.”
“Then why not get out of it, and do something else?” he questions. “Obviously, you’re intelligent, because you earn good money, and you’ve created a retirement plan for yourself and Emily. You have investments, and savings in the bank. It’s blatantly clear that you can do anything if you put your mind to it.”
“Did I come here tonight so you can lecture me?” I have no idea why, but he has a talent for getting on my nerves.
“I’m trying to figure out why you don’t want more?”
“More?” He nods. “You’d prefer I leave this job, that I enjoy...mostly,” I snarl the last word to him. “So, I can go and become a waitress?”
“That’s a more noble profession than what you do.”
“Wow. It’s a more noble profession, yet you’re the one paying me to be here so you can fuck me.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I instantly regret them. “I’m...” I look down at my plate and let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, I shouldn’t have snapped.” What the fuck is wrong with me? I take a moment to calm my erratic breathing before I lift my chin to look at him. He’s sitting opposite me with a bemused grin on his face. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re cute when you get riled up.”
“Cute?” Stop it, Reece. Stop it now. “Perhaps I should leave before I say something that ends with me being arrested.”
I move to stand, but he darts his hand out, stopping me. “Don’t go,” he whispers.
He’s just a job, like anyone else is, and I have to treat him like a client. Not like the president. I regroup and smile. “Of course, sir.” I sit again, put my game -face on, and pick up the flatware to continue eating.
“Why couldn’t you be here last night?” he asks.
“Mr. Liam Price was quite adamant. However, last night I was helping Emily with a project before I got her back to school. Usually, Sunday nights aren’t so hectic, but last night was an exception. And I’m sorry, but my daughter comes first.”
“I understand.” He nods. “But if I want your time, then I expect you to be available.”
“My daughter comes first,” I reiterate. “She’ll always come first.”
“She’s ten-years-old?”
“Yes, sir, she is.”
“That means you would’ve been fifteen when you had her.”
My mouth wants to say something smart-ass, like wow, look at you, you can do the math. But instead, I choose the safe answer, “Yes, sir, that’s exactly right.”
“There’s no father’s name on her birth certificate.”
I still my flatware, and peer up at him. “You checked Emily’s birth certificate?” He nods. “You have no idea the line you’ve crossed.”
“I beg your pardon. You’ll watch your tone when speaking to the president.”
“Not when he’s being an ass,” I say through a clenched jaw. “You had no right to delve into Emily at all. You’ve crossed a line.” I lower my cutlery, push my chair back and throw my napkin on the plate of food. “Please, don’t call for me again.” I stand and walk over to grab my clutch.
Bennett is on his feet and stopping me from leaving by blocking the exit. “I’m...” he pauses and runs his hand through his hair.
In all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never felt so trapped and hopeless. The fact is, Bennett Adams is the most powerful man in the world. And, if I scream out, not one of his Secret Service agents is going to come in here. But if he screams, they won’t hesitate in breaking the door down and throwing me into handcuffs. Because, let’s face it; he’s the president, and I’m just a whore.
I take a step back, trying to find a way to defuse the tension. “Look,” I start in a softer, less aggressive voice.
“I shouldn’t have dug into your daughter’s records. Especially when it comes to her birth certificate.”
I lift my chin to look into his softened eyes, happy he’s apologized. “I guess that’s as close to an apology I’m going to get. Right, Mr. President?”
