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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jack walked throughthe White House towards the Chief of Staff’s office.
“He’ll be out in a moment,” the man’s secretary said.
“Thank you.” Jack took a seat and undid his jacket.
He’d got a message earlier saying POTUS had been pulled into a high-level important meeting, so Jack needed to meet with Roger instead. Depending on how pissed he was on behalf of the president, this could be a long wait.
Twenty minutes later, which wasn’t bad, considering, the door opened. Roger stared at him. “Jack. Come in.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, he leaned his ass on his desk and, with his hands on his hips, said, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Jack blew out a long breath and nodded. “I wasn’t. I’m not going to give you a bunch of bullshit, Roger. I fucked her. But you need to know it was consensual.”
“Well, she’s not claiming otherwise. She just wants you to acknowledge the baby is yours.”
“She won’t do a test to prove there is a pregnancy. I’ve been trying to deal with this in the background since I strongly suspect she’s trying to blackmail me.”
“You should have told me,” Roger said firmly.
“Oh, come on, you would have done the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t have fucked my secretary,” Roger said, shaking his head.
“Mary is pushing eighty,” Jack cried, glancing at the closed door.
Roger’s lips twitched. “My point is the president isnothappy. He needs this to go away.”
“He’s not the only one.” Jack groaned and sat down on the sofa. “It’s likely the baby, if it exists, is her boyfriend’s. They’ve asked for money.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Not yet. But I will,” Jack replied.
“Clean it up.”
Jack nodded, then left the office, knowing he had one chance here. If it escalated, he knew Roger, on behalf of the president, wouldn’t be so kind next time.
It was a warning.
‘Clean it up’ meaning, make it go away.
Or he would have to.
America didn’t take kindly to this type of thing and the media had not painted him kindly so far. There was a good reason for that. He hadn’t spoken to them, and Cindy had made him out to be a monster.
Jack wasn’t going to lie down and let the two of them get away with it.
He’d lost Amelia already. He wasn’t losing his career, too. In fact, he had every intention of getting the woman he loved back.
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JACK WENT HOME THATnight and sat in his living room with the fire blazing, wishing Amelia was with him. She’d like this house. While much smaller than hers, he could see her lying on the sofa with him, her feet on his knees, as he massaged her feet.
He had space for her to set up her studio; they could buy a bigger place if she wanted more.
There was still hope, as far as he was concerned. He wasn’t a man to just accept failure. If he was that easy to knock over, he wouldn’t have become a senator nor deserve to be one.
