Page 21 of Power Twist

“Because you’re a woman. The first woman vice president.”

“So,” I start, my tone even, hiding the rising fury building in my veins, “what you're insinuating is he believes I'll be kinder, more understanding because I'm a woman. That I'll let my emotions get the better of my sound judgment because I have a vagina instead of a fucking dick.”

A bit of me rejoices at the slight tremor in his shoulders, at the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “It's a theory.”

“You're an idiot,” I say with a huff. “For thinking that and voicing it. I highly doubt the Russian president is as ignorant as you as to how women work, thank fuck. He's playing at something else if he wants to meet with me.” I lay my head back against the leather headrest. “And honestly, I think it's a bad idea to meet with him. If he wants to talk, then he should've requested a formal meeting before today. No, something else is going on.”

“Agreed,” Trey pipes up.

“Not your place, Agent,” Todd snaps.

“Watch it,” I snap right back. “He and this team have been with me since the primary. Do not talk to them like that. They are mine and know how I process shit. In fact”—I flick my angry eyes to Trey—“he needs his own transportation for the rest of the summit and on future travels.”

Trey purses his lips.

“Randi—”

I hold out a hand to Todd. “We need to have our heads on straight at these things. We're about to meet with several of the most influential leaders in the world. I'm not wasting my time arguing with you.”

“We don't have the manpower to split you two up all the time,” Trey cuts in. “That would leave gaps in the security detail. Too risky.”

I roll my eyes before pinning them on Todd. “Fine. But next trip I want my own fucking limo.”

Trey’s head dips, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he messes with the big-ass gun. “Understood, ma'am.”

“How do we respond to this request?” Todd asks like a pouting toddler.

“Tell him we'd love to meet; however, we're unavailable until after the summit.”

“That's not very diplomatic.”

“Neither was his last-minute meeting invite,” I retort. “It must be some kind of power play. Trying to test me, see how far I'm willing to bend. If I don't put my foot down now, he'll think I'm just at his beck and call anytime he needs me. No, this is the right move. We tell him thanks but no thanks, and if he is serious about meeting, then he needs to make an appropriate meeting request for a future date.”

Yep, this is the right move.

I hope.

* * *

The mattress moldsunder my stomach and chest as I flop face-first onto the bed with an exhausted whimper. I thought yesterday was a long day with the flying and meetings, but man, was I wrong. A full day of listening to men bicker back and forth, not getting anything accomplished, and I'm thoroughly spent.

With the varying viewpoints on climate change and the effects everyone seems to be monitoring, with a wide range of results, the group fought on a solution. By the end of the summit tomorrow, I'm sure we'll be right back where we were before, all of us doing our own damn thing while blaming everyone else for pollution.

Ice clinks beside my ear, drawing my attention. Slowly I peel the down comforter from my face. My lips pull into a small, pursed-lipped smile at the sight of a dark liquid-filled highball glass dangling in front of my face.

“We need to talk.”

My ears perk at the determination in Trey's tone. My arms tremble, barely strong enough to hold my weight as I push both palms against the bed. Flopping to my back, I gingerly take the sweaty glass from him and press up onto my elbows to take a sip.

The soft burn down my throat eases some of the tension from my shoulders and neck. Jack Daniel’s. My favorite.

They love me.

“Did you guys pack me a bottle?” I ask around the crystal lip.

“We did.” His features tighten with a grimace. Lifting his right shoulder, he brushes at his ear. “Grem would like the record to show it was his idea.”

I nod in appreciation. The decorative material slides beneath my slacks as I scoot up the bed to rest against the modern-style metal headboard. “Thank you, Grem,” I shout for him to either hear through the mic or on the other side of the bedroom wall. “It's exactly what I need. Except—”

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