Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(6)

"Maybe he's banging some intern," I chuckle, letting the words out  without a second thought. Hey, it's not like I'm being mean; it's very  probable that Austin is really banging an intern. He wouldn't be the  first, anyway.

"Banging an intern," Reese Dawns snorts, repeating my words under her  breath and chuckling after me. Then, noticing that everyone is looking  at her, she takes one clenched hand to her mouth and clears her throat,  pretending she didn't say a word.

I'm about to say another joke when the door to the meeting room swings  open abruptly and President Bain steps through. He walks toward his seat  at the head of the table, adjusting his cuff links as he goes.

"Glad to see you're on board with this," he tells me as he sits down,  leaning back on his chair and grinning at me. What a smug asshole, not  even a word of apology for coming in late. I guess that he's more than  used to doing what he wants, when he wants. Exactly the kind of man I'm  used to luring into my traps, except this time, I'm part of the  asshole's team. I guess $50 million has helped hide my moral qualms out  of sight.         

     



 

"Tracy here was very persuasive," I reply casually, offering him a cool  stare. I don't even bother with greeting him; if he thinks he's above  that, so am I.

"Good. It looks like she made the right choice with you," he continues,  talking to me as if we're the only two people in the room. He's looking  me in the eyes, but I can tell that, somehow, the first thing he did  when he entered the room was check me out. Not that I can blame him; I  did exactly the same thing.

The moment he entered the room my eyes were drawn to him. To start with,  it's not everyday I get to see the President of the United States up  close. Sure, I'm going to be playing a key role, and that means I'll  have to spend some time with him  …  but first impressions are always  first impressions. And, hell, I gotta give it to him; he looks even  better in the flesh than on TV.

No, I'm not changing my opinion. All I'm saying is that, even though he  might be an egotistical asshole, he has the kind of looks capable of  provoking a very physical reaction in a woman. Do I need to explain that  one? I hope not.

Tailored suit, dominant posture, and arrogance as the cherry on top of  the cake; Austin knows people think he's the shit, and he behaves like  it. Of course, it also helps that he's extremely handsome. Not only is  he the youngest President in the history of the United States, he's  probably the most ripped one. Seriously, he wouldn't look out of place  in a movie set, one where guys hang around shirtless while kicking the  shit out of each other. Makes me wonder-did he win the elections because  of his know-how, or because he looks good? No need to answer this one.

"So, you've been briefed on what's expected of you, right?" he asks me,  his eyes never leaving mine. I feel a pleasant warmness spreading  through my body as I hold his gaze; running my tongue between my lips, I  give him a quick nod.

"Yes, I have."

"Good," he smiles, leaning back and crossing his legs. "We'll keep this  up for a year. Then you'll be able to end our fake engagement by  claiming I'm just too devoted to the country."

"How noble of you," I whisper, rolling my eyes and drumming my fingers  on the table. "But one year? I was thinking of something more  short-term."

"No. Anything shorter than that and it won't work. The public needs time  to accept the President's new image," Tracy cuts in, her smart eyes  going from me to Austin. "It'll have to be one year."

"If it's going to be like that, I'm going to need a bonus. An extra $25  million will do it," I say in a heartbeat. Tracy is about to protest the  figure I've just thrown, but Austin doesn't give her enough time for  her to do so.

"Deal."

"Also, if there's any hint of a scandal with another woman …  I'll walk on the deal. And I'll still expect to be paid."

"Surely you're not saying that --"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," I shoot back, cutting Austin short. "No other women while our deal stands."

"Jesus," Austin whispers, pursing his lips and exhaling sharply. "I  guess you're right, though. The risk just isn't worth it." Looking at me  for a moment of silence, he then opens up into a grin. "We have a deal  then."

"Good. Now, where's my ring?" I grin back at him, raising my hand and  waving my fingers at him. "A fiancée needs a ring. An expensive one."

"You're a high maintenance one, aren't you?" he laughs, running his  fingers down the length of his tie. Pushing his chair back, he goes up  to his feet and walks around the table, closing the distance between him  and I. Sliding one hand inside his jacket, it comes back out holding a  small square box. "There you go," he says, popping the box open.

I raise both eyebrows as my eyes fall over the biggest diamond ring I've  ever seen. The diamond alone is probably worth a few hundred thousand  dollars, for Christ's sake.

"Not that you asked, but the answer is yes," I grin, offering him my  hand. Holding it gently, he slides the ring on my finger and I hold my  breath as I feel the touch of his skin on mine. His hand is big and  smooth, and I start imagining what else he has that's big and smooth …   Ahem, anyway. Jesus.

"Do I get to keep it?" I ask Austin while, at the same time, I try to pull my mind out of the gutter.

"Sure," he laughs. He could give two shits about this ring, and instead says, "You'll want a memento."

"A memento, right," I whisper, looking at the ring. The thing is huge  and gaudy, completely inelegant, but so what? I can just sell it once  I'm done with Austin. Besides, the secret deal we've cut inside this  room is also an inelegant one, but it's not like that matters.

"Welcome to your new life, Ashley," Austin says with a smile, and I  can't help but smile back at him, my lips reacting before I can stop  them.

A new life, huh? Doesn't sound that bad.

Good thing it's not real.





7





Austin





I'm standing in a small theater in the White House's West Wing-the Press  Briefing room. Half a dozen rows of chairs are filled with eager  reporters, each staring at me, waiting for me to begin the press  conference.

This is it.

This is the moment I go out and lie in front of the country.

I'm gonna look into the cameras and lie to 320 million Americans.

Jesus fucking Christ. I can't believe I'm having these qualms right now, you know?

I mean, my administration doesn't have any major scandals or anything.  We've run a tight campaign. We didn't do anything fucking crazy.

It's the damned media. They don't care who fucking wins, ya know? They  just want to pull down and tear down whoever is in charge. It sells  newspapers or something. So they fixate on the fact that I'm a young,  eligible bachelor. They pinpoint that and they start trying to destroy  me. Doesn't matter what party I am. Doesn't matter what I believe in.

And now I'm gonna lie to them. I have to. It's the only way I can fend  the media off long enough to actually help the American people.

I'm standing at the podium, and I look over at Tracy, who's standing off  to the side of the room. She gives me a nod, and that's my cue to  begin. I take a deep breath, straighten my tie, smooth the lapels of my  suit jacket, and begin.

"Thank you all for joining me here today," I say. "I think we can all  agree that the media has been trying to unfairly portray me in a  negative light."

I give this opener and look around at the crowd. I hear hushed murmurs ripple across the rows of reporters.

I continue, "Today, I'd like to address the 'President Player' headlines."

"Excuse me, Mr. Bain, what is your relationship to South Korean  ambassador, Jia Park?" one pudgy reporter blurts out, interrupting my  train of thought.

I do my best to brush him off. "I'm getting to that," I say. "I would  like to announce a new trade agreement between the United States and  South Korea."

I look around the room. Reporters are exchanging confused glances with one another.

I continue, "I'm working very closely to hammer out the details of this  trade with the South Korean ambassador. But one thing's for certain-we  need to work together to meet these goals. United we stand-apart we  fall. These salacious rumors need to stop."

"But Mr. Bain, what are you hiding? Why do you insist on keeping your  personal life shrouded in mystery?" another reporter jumps in, shoving  his microphone over the heads of the crowd.

"I've said this before, but I want to make it clear that my private life  does not concern the public," I reply. "My focus is on the country and  politics shouldn't be personal."

"But Mr. Bain, are the playboy rumors true?" another reporter asks.

A number of reporters jump out of their seats at this comment, all of  them vying for my attention and calling out my name, their cameras and  microphones raised.