Page 85 of Powerless

“Bastard,” I whisper with a massive grin. I head into the bathroom to get ready for my day. Although now, all I’m going to think about is having him between my legs. “Bastard,” I repeat with the same goofy smirk.

* * *

Jamie stands when he sees me. “Mrs. Adams, how are you?”

“I’m good, Jamie, how are you? Settling in okay?”

“Um.” He sits again and looks at his desk opposite Esther’s.

“He’s hit the ground running,” Esther pipes in, “and he’s already a super star.”

“She’s being too kind,” Jamie replies as his cheeks turn slightly pink. “There’s a lot to do.”

“Does my husband have any time for lunch today?” I ask Jamie.

He looks to his laptop and types on the keyboard. “He has a twenty-minute gap in an hour and thirty minutes.”

“Can that twenty-minute gap be pushed out to thirty minutes?” Jamie’s brows draw in together as he looks at the schedule. “If it can’t be done, then that’s fine.”

“Um.” Jamie looks to Esther for guidance. Poor kid, he’s been thrown in the deep end and is still trying to get a feel for the land.

“The vice president is running late, so that should be fine,” Esther responds to Jamie’s skepticism.

“Great. Block out that half hour with me, please.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Jamie replies.

I turn to Esther and offer her a smile in kind and mouth, Thank you. She gives me a short nod with a small smile as I leave the office.

* * *

As I walk toward the dining hall, Alison looks at me. “Mrs. Adams, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to talk to the chef about lunch for Bennett.”

She crinkles her forehead and looks around. Alison steps forward and whispers, “Ma’am, Esther or Jamie can take care of his lunch.”

I touch her upper arm and smile. “I know, but I’m taking my husband to lunch.”

Alison exhales a relieved sigh. “How wonderful.”

“How are you finding the role of press secretary?” I ask, moving the conversation along.

“It’s challenging. But I respect the press corps, and I think they respect me. Or, at least they’ve gone easy on me so far and the talons will come out after our first week in the White House.”

“Mrs. Adams.” One of the chefs leaves from behind the counter to walk over to me. “May I help you, ma’am?” she asks.

“There are other people ahead of me.”

The chef looks around and gives me a tight smile. I actually haven’t been introduced to the cooking staff yet. She clears her throat and shifts on the spot. “Ma’am, you have priority,” she says.

“I can wait. Other people are ahead of me. Perhaps I should come and introduce myself to the kitchen staff.” I look to her and extend my hand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

“Celeste, ma’am. We’d love to give you a tour of the kitchen.” The eagerness in her eyes tells me she’s ecstatic and maybe has even been looking forward to this.

“Would it be okay if I come back there now, or would you prefer we arrange a time when you’re not so busy?”

“Any time convenient to you.”

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