Page 80 of Power Twist

Interesting way to phrase that question.

“My secret service team. They got me out and home safely.”

“No fatalities?”

I shake my head. Forcing my feet to move, I walk toward the grouping of couches and lower to sit on the edge of the one Shawn just vacated. “A few injuries but nothing serious.”

Head down, he doesn't look up from the stack of papers he's thumbing through. “That's surprising.”

“How come I don't hear any empathy or shock in your voice?”

His ice blue eyes peer up through dark lashes. “If you're looking for emotional support with me, you're the idiot I always knew you were.”

I flip him the bird. “Then why'd you call me here if not to make sure I'm okay?”

“Couple things. First, are you already packing your bags to head to that shithole you call home?”

I tilt my head, not understanding his question.

“Don't play dumb with me, Walmart. My bill won the House, and we have the Senate locked in. Next month you'll be turning in your resignation to me and getting your ass out of my city. This is the push you need to realize you don't belong here. You're no one, and no one will miss you when you're gone. Hell, someone might even throw me a fucking party.”

Pursing my lips, I hold back the need to tell this fucker it’s not won yet. But something tells me it’s best to keep Trey's parents help to myself. If Kyle knew they were swaying to my side because of their selfless son's love for me, he might put pressure on the few key senators to keep them voting no.

Glancing to my suit pants, I pick at an imaginary piece of lint to avoid showing my hand.

“The OPEC summit—the one I specifically told you not to go to.” His brows raise a fraction, but his Botoxed forehead stays smooth, keeping them from rising higher. Speaking of that…. I graze the pads of two fingers along my own brow, feeling for any wrinkles. “What happened?”

“Why do you care? If you didn't—”

The lamp and bottle of water on top of the desk rattle at his tight fist slamming against the shiny surface. “Just answer me, damnit!” he bellows. A red flush spreads along his cheeks, his nostrils flaring with each heavy breath. “Tell me what happened, every detail.”

Something about the look in his eyes, the 'on the edge of reason' appearance, shifts me into self-preservation mode. So I tell him everything, from the moment I arrived until Air Force Two touched down back in DC. Well, everything minus the random meeting with my new Russian friend. If I've learned anything these past few months, it's good to have secrets up your sleeve, and having the Russian president offering me inside details on things he shouldn't know is definitely a secret I want to keep to myself.

“That's it?” he asks, visibly relaxing into his chair.

A soft knock sounds at the door leading to his admin and secretary's area, drawing our attention.

I nearly snort at the beautiful brunette cautiously stepping into the office. From her perfect pencil skirt suit to her flawless makeup, this is exactly who I expect Kyle to have as a secretary.

“Mr. President, Sam with the Department of Justice is holding for you. Again.”

The earlier relief disappears in an instant. Face contorted in anger, Kyle's face flushes scarlet.

“Tell them I'll get to them when I can. Again,” he grits out. The pen in his hand nearly breaks at the pressure of bending at both ends between his hands. “I'm in the middle of a fucking meeting.”

The young woman clears her throat and shuffles from one high heel to the other. “He says he'll hold.”

The small twitch of his head causes my brows to furrow. The way he's avoiding eye contact and the nervous way he fiddles with the pen are a dead giveaway for the reluctance he has with talking to this Sam guy.

“Then let him wait,” he says on a heavy sigh. He runs his fingers through his hair and swivels around to face the large bay windows.

At his obvious rude dismissal, the secretary gives me a sympathetic smile and leaves us alone once again.

Minutes pass after her departure, but still Kyle doesn't say a word, doesn’t turn to face me.

My foot bobs against the oriental rug as I gnaw on my thumbnail. After another minute of silence, I toss my hands in the air. “Guess we're done, then?” Palms against the couch cushion, I make to stand and leave.

“One more thing.” His overstuffed leather office chair is silent as he swivels back around to face me. “Next time I say no, it means fucking no. Don't pull that shit again, or next time you won't be so lucky.”

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