Page 25 of Surrender
Was he a fool for wanting her? Did it make him weak?
He sat up against the pillows and ran a hand through his hair in agitation. He glared at her sleeping form as his frustration mounted. She’d turned away from him in bed last night too, and all the other nights before, even after they’d joined their bodies in every position imaginable.
But he supposed he couldn’t blame her. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that they hadn’t known one another for long. Despite all the intimacies they’d shared, she likely still felt uneasy around him.
He didn’t wish for a marriage in name only, however, and he resolved that he would spend more time with his little bride, getting to know her. Getting to know therealher, he amended, as he thought about Betsy’s biography, which hadn’t provided adequate insight into the woman who lay next to him. As dissimilar as she seemed from the Betsy he’d read about, she might as well be another female entirely.
He lay awake long into the night, unable to find his own rest.
Chapter 14
Nerves clenchedin Fiona’s stomach. She couldn’t believe she was back in the White House. She glanced around the sitting area, feeling awkward and out of place, though she very much hoped Merokk didn’t notice her unease.
President Carson, who was seated on a sofa opposite of her and Merokk, shot her a polite smile and she did her best to return it. He took a sip of his wine and slouched back on the couch, looking far more relaxed than he ought to. Wasn’t he worried she would misspeak? He really shouldn’t have invited both her and Merokk to dinner.
“I’m so glad you could join me this evening, Betsy.” He nodded at Merokk. “You as well, Ambassador.”
Fiona gripped the stem of her wine glass, hoping she didn’t upend the drink. “Of course, Dad,” she forced out, “we were happy to receive the invitation.”Dad. Months ago, if someone would’ve told her she would be sitting in the White House with President Carson, calling himDad, while her new Kall husband watched on, she would’ve laughed in their face.
Merokk sat beside her, his demeanor utterly relaxed. She envied his complete calm. But, she reminded herself, of course he would be calm. What did he have to be nervous about? Her people had surrendered to his. President Carson might technically be the leader of the American people, but Merokk still held more power.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between the three of them, causing Fiona’s hands to tremble and the flutters in her stomach to increase. She wracked her brain for something to say but came up empty. She’d never been good at small talk, and it didn’t help that she still felt a bit starstruck around President Carson. Though he’d been nothing but kind to her thus far, his very presence intimidated her.
Perhaps because seeing him in the flesh reminded her of all that was at stake.
Was that why he’d invited them to dinner? So he might casually remind her that she needed to keep her wits about her and never allow Merokk to discover her real identity?
Or maybe he simply wished to keep up with appearances, she reasoned, hoping this was actually the case. If the real Betsy were living in DC with her new Kall husband, President Carson would undoubtedly invite his daughter to dinner on occasion.
Dear God, what have I gotten myself into?
She took a long sip of wine and breathed an internal sigh of relief when Merokk and the president began talking amongst themselves. She only half paid attention to their discussion, something about the finer workings of the treaty and the new trade agreement between Earth and planet Kall.
Dinner was delicious and Fiona tried not to gawk at the fancy table setting or the sparkling chandelier above. She didn’t speak very often but tried her best to contribute to the conversation now and then, not wishing for Merokk to think anything was amiss.
At least the wine kept flowing. She was on her third glass by now and was grateful for the soothing effect on her nerves. Even though she wished for more, she declined a fourth glass, not wanting to lose her concentration and say the wrong thing.
“How do you like your new home, Betsy?” President Carson asked.
Fiona struggled to swallow the bite of filet mignon quickly and smiled politely. “Oh, I love it,” she said. “It’s very beautiful and Merokk has made me feel right at home.” At least she wasn’t lying right now. She did like the house she shared with her new husband and he truly had made her feel welcome. After a week of marriage, she didn’t quite feel like a stranger wandering around the big, ornate house anymore.
President Carson grinned. “I’m so pleased.”
“You must visit us,” Merokk decreed, and Fiona tried not to stiffen at his suggestion. “Next week, I hope you will join us for dinner at our house. My cook is skilled at preparing both Kall and Earth dishes.”
“I would be delighted,” the president replied. “Thank you for the invitation. But no need to have your cook prepare Earth dishes on my account. I enjoy Kall dishes very much.” He smiled widely, though the grin didn’t reach his eyes. “In fact, I haven’t yet tried a Kall dish that I didn’t like.”
What an ass kisser, Fiona thought, lowering her gaze so neither man would see the sudden smirk that threatened to take over her whole face. Though she was in a dangerous position and felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing on her shoulders, she found President Carson’s ridiculous attempts to kiss up to Merokk a bit humorous. Until six months ago, he’d been the most powerful man in the world.
She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and managed to straighten her face. Orfixher face, as her mother might’ve said.
Fix your face, dear.
A hollow ache pierced Fiona at the memory. When she was a little girl and got upset about something, her mother used to grin at her and playfully say, “Fix your face, dear.”
Then, if her father happened to be around, he would approach her and grasp her cheeks, very gently, and say something like, “Don’t worry, Fiona! Daddy will help you fix it!” Then he would tug on her cheeks as she erupted into giggles.
The ache in her chest deepened.
