Page 22 of Presidential Bargain
“Hello,” I repliedsheepishly.
“How are you feeling?” That was certainly a loadedquestion.
“I’m okay.” There was one part of me that wasn’t okay. My stomach. It growled loudly and Jameson and I both laughed. I didn’t eat at the fundraiser and slept through breakfast. My stomach was staging aprotest.
“I thought you might be hungry, so I ordered you breakfast…andlunch.”
“Thank you,” Imurmured.
He reached out and lightly squeezed my waist before returning to his group. I headed to my room and quickly changed into a pair of black leggings and a yellow sleeveless tunic. I braided my now damp hair and patted on moisturizer. My face was so blotchy and swollen from crying that I didn’t even bother withconcealer.
There were significantly less eyes on me when I returned to the suite’s living area. Sean, Lewis, Jenkins, and the guy with white hair were all gone. But the atmosphere in the suite remainedtense.
“Where did everyone go?” I asked Jameson, who was sitting at the dining table, hunched over his laptop. My lunch was spread out on the table opposite him, waiting for me to devour it. I walked hesitantly over andsatdown.
“To do their jobs.” Jameson looked up from his laptop and smiled pleasantly. His eyes, though, were still filled withconcern.
I pushed around the salad on the plate in front of me, my appetite suddenly gone. Last night reminded me of the one feeling I hate most in the world—helplessness.
“Georgie,” Jameson saidtentatively.
I set the fork down next to the plate. “When my dad lost all his money, I felt awful. I couldn’t do anything to help their situation. I watched my parents struggle day after day, trying to regain just a fraction of what they lost. And I watched my dad fight to keep that goddamn house because it meant everything to my mother.Tome.”
Inhaling deeply, I managed to finally find courage to meet his hard stare. “I don’t want to feel powerless in this arrangement. You have aweaknessnow.”
“You’re not a weakness,Georgie.”
I snorted derisively in response. “Tell that to Russell Atlee.” I could tell from the hard look on Jameson’s face and the way the muscle in his jaw ticked that he didn’t appreciate my attitude. I sighed; this was a moment for honesty. “Russell Atlee thought he could use me. He thought I was expendable and that was the worst feeling in the world. I don’t want to just stand next to you, smiling and waving. I want to do more for you, for thecampaign.”
“Tell me what he did, what he said,” Jameson whispered, his voice laced withconcern.
“Jameson, I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated matter-of-factly. I already felt like an open wound. I didn’t want to bleed outanymore.
“I don’t want to push you, Georgie, but I need to know whathappened.”
The thought of telling Jameson every vile detail made my stomach churn. How could I describe the way I felt when Russell Atlee touched me or how his breath was a hot hiss against my ear? I always believed that I was a woman who would fight back, but when Russell’s hands groped and grabbed, I froze. I was too embarrassed and ashamed to admit I wasn’t strong enough toresisthim.
I stood and walked away, heading toward the living room. I sat down on one of the plush sofas and grabbed the remote, turning on the television. Jameson apparently didn’t play the avoidance game because he joined me. He took the remote from my hand and clicked off thetelevision.
“Fine, then let’s talk about what happened at the communitycenter.”
I groaned. I didn’t want to talk about that either, but at least it was a slightly more pleasant topic than Russell Atlee. “I’m not a fan of that topiceither.”
“I’m aware. Your rejection still stings, twenty-four hourslater.”
My rejection? I turned my gaze on him, shocked.Hefelt rejected? All week, the connection we shared simmered and was nurtured with every display of affection we put on for the masses of people who showed up to campaign events. Every touch, every chaste kiss or heated gaze that wasn’t genuinely given, felt likerejection.
“It was spontaneous. Itoldyou.”
“I know what you said, but you didn’t hear what I had to say.” Jameson shifted on the couch so his entire body faced me, and I felt it was only fair to do the same. He reached out and took my hand, brushing his thumb alongtheback.
“There’s nothing more that I want, that I desire, than to serve my country in its highest office. I truly believe it’s what I was born to do. I’ve spent every waking moment focused entirely on that one goal and nothing was going to stand in my way. I even foolishly thought I could be the next bachelor president because I’ve been married to this country forsolong.”
I placed a firm hand on Jameson’s chest. I didn’t want him to continue. “Jameson, don’t make promises youcan’tkeep.”
Jameson exhaled loudly and looked away. “Then tell me what you want, Georgie. What promisescanImake?”
I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. Russell Atlee made me feel disposable. This arranged engagement made me feel weaker than I’d felt in a long time. I didn’t want to be a burden, even though this whole deal Jameson and I had was a giant wrecking ball ofliability.
