Senator Donnelley had a significant lead, and it seemed likely he would be the next president of the United States, which created an energetic atmosphere.
While I maintained my position between the kitchen and living room, every part of me stayed on high alert despite knowing all the people in attendance. Having been a Secret Service agent for almost five years and assigned to protective details for foreign dignitaries over the last three, I never let my guard down, and I prided myself on my ability to notice the smallest details in a crowded space.
I’d spent the entire night so far observing the senator’s family, most of whom I’d only seen a handful of times over the last few months. Faye, Senator Donnelley’s only daughter, had spent most of the night engrossed in her phone and taking selfies. Sitting next to her on the couch was her brother, Finnegan, who appeared disinterested in everything going on around him. His leg bounced up and down as if he was anxious about something. Then there was Fallon. He knew how to work a room and commanded just as much attention as his father as he laughed with almost everyone in the room during private conversations.
Fallon and I had only seen each other occasionally over the last few months since he was busy with law school and not involved with his father’s campaign. But the few times our paths crossed, there was so much going on, he didn’t approach me as he had during the Fourth of July party on Cape Cod.
Under different circumstances, I might have flirted back that night. Who didn’t enjoy getting attention from an attractive person. And Fallon Donnelley was nothing if not good-looking with his chestnut-colored hair, striking greenish-blue eyes, and strong arms I’d noticed last summer. However, I always strived to maintain professional boundaries and made sure never to cross a line, so I couldn’t allow myself to entertain the idea of flirting with someone the agency could be tasked with protecting even if I wanted to.
Besides, Fallon was almost six years younger than me and, according to what I knew, didn’t seem to have serious relationships. It was likely he was a natural flirt and our previous conversation was an example of how he interacted with people. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill when he stood and headed toward me.
“Agent Davis, fancy meeting you here,” he said with a huge-ass grin on his face.
“Mr. Donnelley,” I greeted.
“Ah, I see we’ve gone back to formalities.”
The last time we had spoken, I’d accidentally called him by his first name. Clearly, my less-than-professional behavior months ago hadn’t escaped his attention either. “Yes, sir.”
Cheers erupted, and Fallon and I both glanced toward the senator’s family and staff. From my vantage point I could see one of the many TVs set up throughout the room, and on the screen was a graphic declaring Patrick Donnelley as the next president of the United States.
I turned back to Fallon. “Looks like it’s time to celebrate your father’s win.”
He smiled. “Yeah. For as long as I can remember, my dad has talked about running for president. This is all a bit surreal.”
“Fallon, are you getting the champagne?” Faye huffed from across the room, refusing to leave the couch where she was flirting with Emilio, the campaign’s social media director.
“On it!” he shouted back and grabbed a bottle of Dom Pérignon from the ice bucket on the counter. He lowered his voice when he addressed me again, “I’m guessing I can’t talk you into a little celebratory drink?”
“That would be against the rules, sir,” I replied.
“Rules are boring, Agent Davis.” He winked. “Besides, you’re missing out. My father always gets the good stuff.” He popped the cork on the bottle, and several agents turned our way.
“Senator Donnelley, I have Senator Miller on the phone,” John Chisholm, Donnelley’s campaign manager, announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “He’s ready to concede.”
While everyone silently listened to the president-elect’s side of the obligatory phone call between opponents, Fallon walked around the room, passing out glasses of champagne, and I couldn’t stop myself from tracking him. After the phone call was over, Donnelley hung up, handshakes were given, and Chisholm offered a toast for the president-elect.
When Fallon’s eyes met mine, he flashed me a smile and lifted his glass. Knowing we were in a room full of people trained to notice every little thing, I quickly looked away.
A short time later, Senator Miller appeared on the TV. He spoke to the large gathering of his supporters and gave his concession speech. Once he was finished, the room we were in became a flurry of activity as it was time for Senator Donnelley to make his way to Boston Common, where he was expected to also give a speech—although a much more upbeat one.
I watched as Fallon downed the rest of his champagne and followed the crowd out of the room. When he passed me at the door, his arm brushed mine, and judging by the smirk on his face, the contact was intentional.
He was going to be trouble.
* * *
The following day,I was called in for an unscheduled meeting at 0600 hours with Assistant Director Monroe, who flew to Boston as soon as the election results were announced. While I waited for him in the conference room, my mind raced with questions about what could possibly warrant a meeting before I was expected to start my shift at the Donnelley residence at 0700 hours.
“Good morning, Agent Davis,” Monroe greeted as he walked in with Agent Tanner, the detail leader I’d been working under for the last few months.
“Good morning, sir.”
I stood and shook their hands and then sat back down at the large oak table. Monroe sat at the head of the table while Tanner took the seat across from me.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve asked you to meet this morning,” Monroe said.
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
