Page 78 of The Illusion of Power (Passion and Politics #1)
SELENE
I t’s official.
Aubrey Taylor has been elected as the next President of the United States of America.
While Cal and Beck were walking into a trap to save my life, he was in the comfort of our home, doing remote interviews about my kidnapping, pretending to be concerned about my well-being when all he really cared about were the votes being cast and counted.
And now he’s being rewarded for it.
It’s been a month, and I’m still shocked when someone in our orbit calls him Mr. President.
Every time those two words are spoken, the rope around my neck seems to tighten.
It’s not lost on me that I’ve been free from my kidnappers for weeks, and I feel more trapped now than I did when I was tied to that desk chair.
Everyone is hovering.
My parents. My sisters. Monique. The press.
Even Aubrey is constantly around, being suspiciously kind and patient with me.
It started when I came home. He hugged me on the lawn, pulling me out of Cal’s arms with a possessive glint in his eye.
I thought that was just for show, a ploy for the cameras, but the attentiveness has persisted even behind closed doors.
For the first two weeks, he’d bring me food and sit on the side of my bed to watch me eat.
Lately, it’s been less invasive, check-ins when he’s on his way in or out of the house, but tonight, he’s laying it on thick, which only makes me wonder what the hell he’s up to.
“Your bruises have healed beautifully,” he murmurs in my ear, spinning me around the dance floor while dreamy sighs ring out in the crowd gathered here for Cal and Beck’s commendation ceremony.
Aubrey had insisted on honoring them for saving my life, and although no part of me wants to be in the spotlight any more than necessary, I couldn’t pass up a chance to be in the same space with my men.
Even if it meant participating in this farce with Aubrey.
I smile politely, showing all of my teeth. “Thank you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Beck push away from the table we’ve all been assigned to, tossing his napkin down and excusing himself.
Cal is only seconds behind him, and I wish like hell I could go to them.
We haven’t been in the same room in weeks.
I’ve been sequestered away, surrounded by everyone but them, and they’ve been busy with psych evaluations and after-action reports.
According to a conversation I overheard between Aubrey and Hicks, Beck’s evaluation process has been especially gruesome since he killed an FBI agent.
I’ve lain awake almost every night wondering how he’s doing with that.
He and Charlie weren’t close, but I know it has to be eating him up inside to have taken a life.
I didn’t get the chance to ask him that night, and part of me worries that I’ll never have an opportunity to ask again.
That fear sweeps through me, and I pull away from Aubrey seconds before the music ends.
His happy mask slips momentarily, but he recovers quickly.
“I’m sorry. I need to go to the restroom.”
He smiles. “Of course, darling. I’m sure Agent Shaw will be happy to escort you.”
The agent is lingering near the edge of the dance floor, but she approaches when Aubrey nods in her direction.
I listen to her relay our movements and destination to the rest of the team as we weave through the tables and enter the hallway.
Cal and Beck are nowhere to be seen, and I turn to the right, even though the bathrooms are to the left, because I’ve read that people tend to go in the direction that matches their dominant hand when they leave a room with no clear destination in mind.
“Ma’am,” Agent Shaw calls. “The bathrooms are this way.”
I round on her. “I know. I just—I just need a moment.”
Her features soften marginally, and she nods. “I understand, ma’am.”
We haven’t worked together long, and I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to trust anyone these days, but I don’t have much of a choice here. I need to find my men, and I don’t have a lot of time to do it.
“Can you raise Agents Beckham and Drake on the comms?” I ask.
“No, ma’am. Agents Beckham and Drake have not yet been cleared to return to duty. They do not have access to comms.”
“Right. Of course.” I sigh, all the urgency and hope for a moment alone with them leaking out of me.
“However,” Agent Shaw says, glancing over her shoulder to make sure we’re alone. “I am aware that they were both seen out on the terrace.” She juts her chin in the direction we were heading. “I can give you five minutes.”
I want to thank her, to hug her, to ask her how much she knows about me and my men, but I don’t do any of those things.
I turn and run to them, the hem of my dress billowing in the wind created by my swift movements.
When I open the door to the terrace, a sharp, icy wind greets me, but I step out anyway, willing to bear the cold for a second in their heated gazes.
They turn like they were expecting me, and in the span of a heartbeat, I’m wrapped in their arms. My face buried in Beck’s chest, my back pressed to Cal’s front.
They are heat and home and love all wrapped up in one, and I soak in as much of them as I can, only letting go so I can look at them both, so I can hold their faces in my hands.
Beck is first, and the stubble from his freshly shaven beard that’s already growing in rubs against my palms. Moonlight streams over the smooth skin of his scalp, and onyx eyes run gentle lines over my features.
“Are you okay, gorgeous?”
“That’s what I came here to ask you,” I murmur, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him. “I’m so sorry you had to…”
I can’t finish the sentence. In fact, I struggle to talk about the kidnapping and rescue in general. Cal and Beck won’t discuss it with anyone they’re not obligated to. It’s just not their way, which leaves Aubrey to do interviews and dramatic re-tellings of a story he didn’t even live through.
Beck shakes his head, cupping my face in return. “I’d do it all again. A million times over.”
The truth of his statement is reflected in his eyes, and my heart aches. “I love you,” I whisper fiercely. He leans down and plants the softest kiss on my lips. “And I love you.”
Cal is next, and he’s smiling when Beck spins me around to face him, keeping his hands on my hips. My hands come up to grip Cal’s face, and he nuzzles into my palm. His eyes are so soft, so tender, so full of love as he looks at Beck and me, I nearly melt.
Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, I ask, “How are you?”
“Perfect now that you’re here.”
“Does your head still hurt?”
He averts his gaze, and I look to Beck for an answer, which he doesn’t hesitate to give me: “He’s still having the occasional headache.”
“The doctor says it’s perfectly normal.”
“He won’t take anything for them,” Beck adds.
“ Cal. ” I slide my hand around to the back of his head, fingers running over short black strands with the occasional gray one mixed in to cup the spot gingerly. “You need to take care of yourself.”
The worry in my voice makes it more of a plea and less of an admonishment, but it seems to work for him better that way. He exhales and then nods. “I will, pet.”
“Thank you.”
One of the doors to the terrace opens, and Agent Shaw steps out, not even bothering to react to the scene in front of her. “Your time is up, ma’am.”
Both men wear shocked expressions as I slip out of their hold, and I shrug to let them know I don’t get Agent Shaw either. I am grateful for her, though, because she single-handedly orchestrated the first moment of alone time we’ve had in forever.
“Thanks, Shaw,” Cal says, eyeing her suspiciously.
Beck is usually the skeptical one, but after the way Harris and, especially, Charlie betrayed them, it makes sense to me that Cal is turning into a bit of a cynic. Agent Shaw nods. “Drake. Beckham. You’re needed inside as well.”
“We’ll give you a head start,” Beck tells her.
“Sounds good. Let’s go, ma’am.”
She steps back to allow me into the warmth of the building. We’re back at the doors of the banquet hall when I get the courage to say something to her.
“About what you saw back there,” I start, but she holds up her hand.
“None of my business, ma’am. My job is to keep you safe, and that’s a lot easier to do if you don’t feel the need to hide things from me. I don’t care what you do or who you do it with, but I do care if you die on my watch because you were trying to sneak out like a teenager.”
“So what are you saying exactly?”
Looking around to make sure we’re still alone, she pitches her voice low. “I’m saying that if seeing Agents Drake and Beckham is a priority for you, then I will do what I can to make that happen. You can trust me to be discreet and keep you safe.”
When I found out I was going to be the First Lady of the United States, I found myself stressing about a lot of things, but mainly about the conversation I had with Deborah Sanders at her husband’s funeral.
She’d warned me that I’d need allies, people in my corner and on my side, and now it looks like the first one has presented themselves to me, taking one of my biggest concerns and making it sound like a simple matter of logistics. Could it really be that easy?
I dip my chin in acknowledgment of her promise. “Thank you, Agent Shaw.”
“Of course, ma’am. Now, let’s get you inside.”
I return to my table to find a glass of champagne waiting for me.
A glance around the table and then the rest of the room shows that everyone has received one, but no one is drinking them yet.
When Cal and Beck come back to their seats, Aubrey grabs his glass and a butter knife and clinks the two together, drawing everyone’s attention.