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"I have nothing on for the rest of the day." He smirks.
"Surely, you have something better to do than drive me to the office."
"Actually, I can’t think of anything better than playing chauffeur." He rounds the table and stops in front of her. "Especially since I promised your brother I’d take care of you."
51
Eight months later
Zara
"I promise to serve the country with integrity, humility and compassion. I promise to do my best for my country and for you who voted me in. I will deliver on the promises I made to you during my election campaign." The newly elected Prime Minister of the country, who also happens to be my husband, glances about the crowd. "There will be challenges, of course, but I am not daunted. I hope to live up to the demands of my office and deliver on the trust you have placed in me. I stand here before you, ready to lead our country into the future. To put your needs above politics. Together, we can achieve incredible things. We will create a future worthy of the sacrifices so many have made, and fill tomorrow, and every day thereafter, with hope. Thank you."
He moves away from the podium and holds out his hand. I walk over to him, balancing the weight of my swollen belly.
It’s been eight months to the day we got married.
Eight months, during which time, I worked side by side with him, campaigning across the country. I continued on as the Head of his PR strategy, until the day he won the elections. At which point, I sold my PR agency to Kate. It was a difficult decision, but the right one. No one knows more than me how all-consuming taking on the leadership role of this country will be. Being married to the Prime Minister means any client I took on would come under a lot of scrutiny. And while I wouldn’t be doing anything wrong in holding down a separate job, it could present a conflict of interest with the office my husband holds. So, I decided to make a clean break and embrace my role as the First Lady of the country. I also accepted Hunter’s offer of launching a project aimed at looking after the interests of women, the vulnerable, and children with additional needs. That’s my passion, and it feels right to use my energy to help those who are weaker.
And all the time we were on the campaign trail, the child I carry in my belly has grown. By now, I’m massive. I should hate just how big I am, but every time I see my stomach, I feel this huge rush of tenderness. This big gush of love that makes my heart swell until I’m sure it’s bigger than my stomach.
I promised him I’d hold out until after he was sworn in. Now, as we pose for pictures, he has one arm around me, and the other over my belly. Our wedding and my pregnancy raised a lot of media speculation, but the voters embraced us. Many of the journalists lauded my courage for coming forward with my teen pregnancy and subsequent loss. Of course, there were those who called me unfit to be the wife of the future leader of the country, but overall, the feedback was supportive. Most of the media were excited about our child, and from the time I first made my appearance at Hunter’s side, I’ve been inundated with good wishes.
I’d like to think our child has brought in a rush of good fortune for us, one that paved the way for Hunter to take on the responsibility of being the leader of the country. I smile and wave at the journalists calling to us to pose for them. This goes on for too many minutes. I’d managed to squeeze my swollen feet into heels, and now I’m regretting it.
Sensing my discomfort, Hunter gives a final nod toward the news people. Then, he scoops me up in his arms. Instantly, flashlights go off behind us as the journalists rush to capture the moment.
“Whoa, Hunter, what are you doing?” I gasp.
“Carrying my wife over the threshold, of course.” He walks inside 10 Downing Street, and his aides come forward to greet us.
Heat flushes my cheeks and I turn my face into his shoulder. “I think you should put me down now,” I say in a muffled tone.
“When I’m ready.”
“Hunter, please.” I half-laugh, then glance up at him. “Why am I not surprised by your over-the-top gesture?”
“Because you love me?” He smirks.
“That I do, Mr. Prime Minister, so very much.”
His features soften. He bends and captures my lips. The kiss is soft and sweet, and firm, and so very hot. I lean into it, open my mouth, and he nips on my lower lip. He deepens the kiss, and that familiar weakness invades my limbs.
Someone clears their throat, and I stiffen. Hunter kisses me for a few seconds more. By the time he raises his head, I’m flushed and my breathing is erratic.
He surveys my features, then nods. "You going to be okay?"
“I’m more than okay as long as I have you by my side.”
“You have me baby, always and forever. I love you so very much.” He kisses my forehead, then lowers me to my feet.
I take a step back, then nod toward his team. "Go on, your country needs you.”
"You always come first, Fire." He searches my features. "You sure you’re going to be okay?"
A twinge tugs on my lower belly. I resist the urge to rub my stomach, then nod. "You know I am."
"Hmph." He holds my gaze for a second longer, then bends and kisses me on the lips again, before turning to speak to the assembled people.
