Page 17 of Bastian

Once outside the doors of the conference room, Baron finishes giving me the statistics and numbers necessary to give the information to the people and then steps aside, allowing me space to enter the room where the press is waiting.

After my horrible experience with Celene, I decided to stop hiring women. Not all women are like that overbearing psycho, but I’m not risking it this time around. Three years ago, Banning dug deep and tracked the IP address where the leaks of mine and Arianna’s whereabouts came from, and it all led to Celene.

Not too bright that one. How did I miss that still fucks with my head.

She fed the media shit about all the women who I courted before.

Then when Arianna came along, she got more desperate, and the bitch turned on me. Maybe she could sense that what I had with Arianna was different than what I had with every woman who came before her.

She was also the last one to speak with Arianna when she confronted me outside, asking about the name of the man who murdered my parents.

It didn’t take me long to piece the information together.

It all led back to Celene.

Because of her betrayal, I ruined her the same way she tried to ruin me.

Haven’t heard from her since.

And if she ever crawls out of the hole she hid in, I’ll be here waiting to deal with her for good. I don’t handle betrayal kindly, and ruining her credibility and career was an act of mercy on my part because the the alternative would have ended badly for her.

As in five feet under bad.

Baron nods at me once before entering the press room to read aloud my established schedule for the press. It hasn’t started, and I am already bored. It’s the same every time. One side is never happy with my decisions, and the other side just kisses my ass with basic questions to make me look good and not challenge my authority.

The question-and-answer session can last up to 90 minutes, though the length of the daily briefing varies. That’s 90 minutes too long, in my opinion.

Taking a deep breath, I adjust my tie and stride towards the room with my game face on and my charming smile. The smile that got me elected apart from my empty promises. Banning, the asshole, salutes me before opening the double doors and motioning for me to enter. “Good luck, Sundance.”

“Fuck off.” I cross the threshold of the room when I hear his reply. “I love you, too.”

He is one insufferable asshole, but he’s loyal to a fault, and that makes up for half the shit he does to test my patience.

The moment I step into the room, taking my place behind the podium, the flashes of the cameras are relentless.

The whole world is watching, daddy. Smile big and make them fall in love. My daughter’s sweet and innocent words replay in my mind as I take the room in. It’s a small crowd of journalists from different news outlets today. I specifically told Baron that I didn’t want the same people asking me questions at every press conference. The White House Correspondents Association assigned seats to every credentialed member of the media today.

No matter how big or small the outlets, they’ll all get a chance to attend.

That decision won me brownie points with half of the media in the country, which reiterates the fact that it was a successful strategic move.

With my team and the flag of this country behind me, I address the press. “Good afternoon.” I smile for the cameras. “Thank you for being here.”

And so I open the conference with updates on how, during this current term, inflation has gone down tremendously since the last administration. I speak on the low rates of crime and how they are at their lowest. I speak on hate crimes in specific parts of the country and how this united administration has helped fight them with inclusion and empathy.

All of these are words from Baron, of course.

Lord knows I can’t be honest with the country, or all hell will break loose more than it already has.

I don’t tell them that the reason crime has settled in the streets is because the Italians, Bratva, and the Irish control them.

The false sense of security the civilians have is all because of them, not their glorified good guys.

The men in blue. The cops.

Not even me.

Their chief in command.

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