Page 7 of Power Surge

“I didn't mean for this to happen,” she says she silently cries. “It was just once or twice. I didn't expect—”

“I can't do this right now, Taeler.” I press the palm of one hand to my chest, trying to quell the building ache. Outside the dark-tinted window, the trees rush by as we drive back to the White House. Through the streams of water, I focus on the iconic building that grows larger in the window. My new home. A home I didn't anticipate and sure as hell don't deserve.

My breathing turns erratic.

The moment we're through the gates, I snatch my phone off the neighboring seat and type out a quick text to Trey.

Me:Your presence is needed ASAP in the Oval Office.

A response comes back almost immediately.

Trey:You okay?

Me:No.

Trey:Randi, you can’t say shit like that. Are you safe?

Me:Physically, yes. Emotionally, I’m about to detonate.

Trey:Be there in thirty.

I rest the phone on top of my lap and stare at the blank screen.

Thirty minutes. I can hold it together for thirty more minutes.

I think.

Chapter Two

Randi

“We have options.”

I monitor my press secretary as I wait for her to continue. Well, notmypress secretary. She was Kyle's before he was forced to step down. When the change in command happened, she offered to stay on until I figured out whom else to hire for the role. Crazy enough, most of the staff had the same mindset. Which was fucking amazing, because I wasn't in a place where I could restaff the whole damn White House. Hell, it’s weeks later and I'm still not. With my lack of connections in this town, I might never be ready to staff.

She skirts her nervous gaze from me to Blake, who’s perched on the edge of one of the two love seats in the Oval Office.

“Just say it,” I urge on an exhausted sigh, peeking at the clock on the massive desk phone—the phone that could launch a nuclear war against the world with just a simple call—to gauge how much longer I have to put up with this bullshit before Trey arrives.

“We could have it discreetly taken care of—”

“No,” I say immediately. “That willnotbe our call. What are the other options?”

“We keep her here, locked inside the White House until she delivers, then send the baby to a relative,” Blake replies.

I snort and swivel in the high-backed leather chair to look out the massive glass windows. Rain continues to pound against the panes, the streets below resembling flowing rivers rather than asphalt lanes.

“No, she won't be my prisoner,” I say over my shoulder.

“We announce—”

Three sharp raps at the door stop her cold. My new secretary’s ball of frizzy red hair pops through the door. “Madam President, Agent Benson is here to see you. He said you requested a meeting.”

I nod, offering a weak smile, letting her know she was right to interrupt the meeting. When I hired her last week—the one I had as VP lasted all of two days in the new higher stress role—I laid out a few ground rules. Trey and Taeler always being priority no matter what I was doing or who I was meeting with was the most important rule for her to remember.

Curling my fingers, I motion for her to let him in. Mumbles of discontent come from Blake and the press secretary at my decision to allow an agent into our meeting. Not that I give a rat’s ass.

“Agent Benson, perfect timing.” I swivel to face the middle of the room. Palms to the edge of the desk, I give a hard push, shooting the chair’s rolling wheels backward a foot. My stiff joints protest as I stand from the ass-conforming seat. Light-headedness sparkles in the back of my mind for the second time today, making the room sway. Fingertips pressed to the polished surface, I lean my weight onto them to center me and keep from tipping over. The episode doesn’t last long, but even that blip doesn’t slip past Trey, who narrows his honey brown eyes my way.

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