“The FBI did a very thorough background check for me.”
I gasped. “You know that’s a real invasion of my privacy. What’s next, the CIA going through my panty drawer?”
“I apologize, Miss Monroe, but it was a necessary evil. I assure you it was only a little more in-depth than what you faced when you came to work for the campaign. If we were going to ask you to do this, we had to ensure you didn’t have any personal or professional skeletons in your closet.”
The word skeletons caused my stomach to twist as a face flashed before my mind. Oh shit. He could be trouble. “Um, I guess you didn’t find anything, huh?”
Senator Callahan tilted his head at me. “You wouldn’t be here if we had.”
“Right.” A nervous laugh bubbled from my lips. “Of course not. I mean, I’m the daughter of a minister. What craziness could I possibly have gotten into in my life?” Although Senator Callahan and Bernie chuckled along with me, it didn’t ease my apprehension.
Once my laughter died down and the atmosphere grew serious, I went back to a question still plaguing me. “Let me ask again: what does me being flat broke have to do with anything?”
“I’m prepared to offer you a million dollars to do this.”
Holy. Shit. My knees started shaking again, and I fought the urge to break out into humming “Climb Every Mountain” from The Sound of Music. I blinked rapidly at Senator Callahan. “I’m sorry, but did you just say…” I could barely bring myself to utter the words. “O-One m-million d-dollars”? I finally stammered.
Senator Callahan nodded. “Yes, Miss Monroe, I did. During the campaign, the sum will be divided into monthly paychecks, and the balance will be paid upon Election Day. All your travel expenses will be covered through the campaign. You will also be allowed to keep the wardrobe the campaign purchases for you.” His eyes dropped down to my bare feet. “That includes shoes.”
Oh my God. I was actually sitting barefoot in front of the potential future president of the United States. “Yeah, my Choo—it got caught in a street grate and broke. I fell…and I mooned some construction workers,” I explained, just as randomly as Baby saying she carried a watermelon in Dirty Dancing.
Oh no. I did not just say that out loud. Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.
The corners of Senator Callahan’s lips quirked. “How unfortunate.”
Oh God, I had said it aloud. Kill me now. I was sure both Bernie and Senator Callahan were going to start having serious doubts about my ability to perform in the campaign, considering my flakiness.
“You said a million dollars, right?”
“Yes. I realize it’s a little over nine months for seven figures.”
“Just playing devil’s advocate here…what happens if you don’t secure the nomination?”
“You’ll still receive the million.”
“Wow,” I not-so-eloquently muttered. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to have that much money. No more living paycheck to paycheck, no more student loan debt, no more buying designer shoes off Ebay and gluing the broken heels back on. No more shitty apartment where the hot water always seemed to be running out. I could consider a place in Georgetown, which had always been my dream. Okay, so maybe it was easier than I thought to imagine having that much money.
“Excuse me for saying this, but a million dollars seems a little extravagant just to be Barrett’s fiancée.”
“You obviously haven’t met Barrett yet,” Senator Callahan quipped, causing Bernie to chuckle.
“I assume you’re suggesting that, because of his reputation, it will be difficult to pretend to be his fiancée.”
“In some ways, yes, but it isn’t just being my son’s fiancée. It’s months of hard work, Miss Monroe. The campaign trail has a brutal pace, of which I know you are aware. Sometimes you’re in three cities in one day. It will be asking a lot of you to go on the road.” He gave me a tight smile. “But the one million also ensures your silence about this deal.”
Silence about this deal—could I do that not just for the next nine months, but for the rest of my life? I wasn’t known for being a blabbermouth when it came to important information, but at the same time, what if I accidentally spilled the beans in a moment of panic, like if the first time a mic was stuck in my face for an interview my mind went blank so I decided to blurt out, “It’s a fake engagement! I’m a fake! We’re faking it!”
“As well as the non-disclosure agreement you just signed,” Bernie added.
Now I knew why they’d had me sign the NDA earlier. If I broke it, I could end up being sued, which of course was the last thing I needed—not to mention that although he seemed like a sweet, gentle person, Senator Callahan probably knew people who could make me disappear if I ratted them out. I shuddered at the thought.
When Bernie reached over to pat my back, I jumped. “Don’t worry, Miss Monroe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you if you don’t agree to Senator Callahan’s proposal.”
My mouth dropped open. “Okay, that’s kinda starting to get a little creepy.”
He smiled. “My wife hates it, too.”
“I can imagine.”
When Senator Callahan cleared his throat, I turned my attention back to him. “Bernie’s right. Nothing is going to happen to you if you don’t take the deal. I know if you don’t take it, you’ll continue working hard to ensure I get elected.”
Holy shit. My job—how could I have forgotten about that? “If I do say yes—and that’s a very big if—what would happen to my job?”
“You would stay on as volunteer coordinator. Because I would need you working the campaign trail, we would bring someone else into headquarters while you worked part-time from the road when time allowed. Part of the cover story would be that you and Barrett met through the campaign, and the two of you decided to keep your relationship secret for many months because you didn’t want people to think you landed your job due to nepotism.”
Although I hated to admit it, that sounded plausible. It was obvious that they had put a lot of thought into this whole fake fiancée charade. With their effort and resources, I wasn’t sure how it could possibly fail.
While the pace of the campaign trail sounded grueling, I liked the idea of getting to travel and see different parts of the country. There was also the plus that I would be doing all that traveling at someone else’s expense. Throw in a million dollars, and I didn’t know how I could possibly say no. This was the type of opportunity where if you didn’t take it, you’d beat yourself up over it for the rest of your life.
Sitting there at that table, I felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden with the serpent coiled around my body, whispering into my ear to offer me the forbidden fruit. Change your life, take the deal. After all, it’s only for a little while. Think of how freeing it will be to no longer be bound by financial strain.
At the end of the day, how hard could it be to pretend to be in love with Barrett? I’d faked love tons of times over the years in the theatrical productions I’d been in. This couldn’t be that different.
Then, as I glanced around the table, I realized for the first time that someone was noticeably absent: my future fake fiancée. “Why isn’t Barrett here?”
Senator Callahan shifted in his leatherback chair. “He isn’t aware that we’re having this meeting.”
My mouth dropped open so far I felt it might hit the table. “You mean you just pitched this whole scheme to me without his consent?” I huffed in outrage.
“Yes.”
“That’s crazy.”
“At first glance, perhaps, but upon further inspection, no. I wanted to be able to present the entire picture to Barrett when I sat him down, to be able to say we had someone who had confirmed, and this is who she is.” With a tight smile, Senator Callahan added, “I come from a business background, Miss Monroe. I’m all about the art of the deal, and the best way to sell a product.”
“What happens if Barrett says no?”
“He won’t,” he replied, the strength of his voice echoing his belief.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know my son.”
Since I hadn’t yet become a parent, I knew I couldn’t argue with that statement. I had to believe, like Senator Callahan did, that Barrett would agree. “Does Mrs. Callahan share your certainty?”
“Jane is fully aware of what I’m proposing. I rarely do anything without running it by her first.”
So Mrs. Callahan was in on the scheme, too. I wondered just how many insiders would know the truth about Barrett. I was sure if I asked that question, Senator Callahan would merely play it off by saying Washington is built on secrets. If the identity of Deep Throat in the Watergate scandal could stay buried for decades, I was pretty sure Barrett’s and my secret was safe. Maybe there would be some kind of secret handshake to let me know who was in the know. Either way, I would need to know who knew what so I didn’t accidentally talk openly with someone not in the know. Can I really do this?
“If you need to take some time to think it over, I will understand. I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Senator Callahan said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table.
Maybe I should have taken more time. Maybe I should have stopped to weigh the emotional cons of this crazy scheme. Maybe I should have thought about what would happen if I actually fell in love with Barrett Callahan.
But I didn’t.
Instead, my lips slid into a smile as I said, “I accept.”
BARRETT
“You like that?” I growled into the ear of the stacked blonde I was banging. Her bare ass was pinned against the plane window. Of course, at thirty thousand feet, it wasn’t like anyone was going to pass by and get an eye-full. Standing between her legs, I held her upright with my forearms under the backs of her knees.
“Oh yeah, baby. Hard.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I was more than happy to oblige her. Making a woman lose her mind during sex had so many benefits. I never understood these pricks who only thought about getting themselves off. I never came harder than I did when I had a satisfied woman screaming my name while her walls convulsed around my cock.
There’s also something to be said for airplane sex. You could say I was quite the connoisseur of all types of sex. Back-seat-of-the-car sex, bathroom sex, park-bench sex, yacht sex—which could be preceded by jet-ski sex, or even ocean sex, although salt water sometimes did a number on your orifices. There was even a time I’d christened the coat room of the Plaza Hotel in New York City. I was somewhat of an expert when it came to sex outside the box, or I guess I should say sex outside the bedroom. Everybody has their specialty or sometimes their kink, and screwing a woman in an unexpected place was mine.
Of course, when I say airplane sex, I should probably clarify. I’m not referring to being crammed into the lavatory where you practically have to be a contortionist to fuck. I’m talking about jet sex, the kind you have on a private plane with leather seats to fuck on and off of as well as a king-sized bed with silk sheets. I’m sure the private jet remark makes me sound like a pretentious bastard, but hey, it’s just what I’m accustomed to. It also doesn’t mean I’m discriminatory and only date wealthy chicks. The truth is, I like women; it doesn’t matter what race or religion or tax bracket they come from. It really only matters that they enjoy sex.
Today’s initiate to the mile-high club was Evangelina Petscova, a new opera diva at the Met, AKA Metropolitan Opera House. I’m sure you’re wondering what a guy like me could possibly be doing at the opera; I’m sure I impress you more as the sporting-event type. While I’m not culturally illiterate, it was a gift to the most important woman in my life—my mother.
For her birthday, I’d flown my mom up on The Callahan Corporation’s private jet, the very one I was screwing on now, to see The Marriage of Figaro. After pulling a few strings, we got backstage to meet the cast. While my mother gushed to Evangelina about her marvelous performance as Susanna, I envisioned a more pornographic performance that Evangelina could star in. The continuous fuck-me eyes I made at her were rewarded with her giving me her number. I made sure to call her the next night, and we’d been seeing each other for the last two weeks.
Each time I hit her G-spot, Evangelina’s shriek of pleasure hit a high C, one of the highest notes on the musical scale. While I enjoyed her enthusiasm for my efforts, I was beginning to go deaf from the high decibels. I had an odd thought that it might offset the cabin pressure; the last thing I needed was for my out-of-control libido to crash the plane.
Thankfully, I could feel Evangelina’s walls tightening around me, so two more harsh thrusts and she was scream-singing my name. Her orgasm triggered mine, and I came with a string of expletives. I’d learned the hard way a long time ago not to ever say a girl’s name if at all humanly possible. I mean, it’s sorta hard to control yourself in the moment; the margin for error is just too great and could end up getting you punched.
When I took my arms away and placed Evangelina on her feet, she didn’t stay upright long. She slid down the wall and pooled into a satisfied heap on the floor. “That was…” She stared quizzically up at me. “I would say amazing, but that seems trite.”
“I’d agree that amazing just doesn’t quite cover it. More like astounding and life-altering?”
Evangelina rolled her eyes as she pushed sweat-soaked strands of hair out of her face. “Your ego is as big as your dick.”
Placing my hand over my heart, I teasingly batted my eyelashes as I replied, “What a sweet thing to say.”
With a laugh, Evangelina gracefully pulled herself off the floor. “You don’t mind if I take a quick shower, do you? I need to be fresh for tonight’s performance.”
A jerked my chin at the bathroom. “Sure. Go ahead.”
She arched her blonde brows seductively. “Would you like to join me?”
“I’d rather smell like you and our fucking the rest of the day.”
Desire flared in her blue eyes at my words, and her pink tongue darted out across her lips. “Mm, I really like the idea of you smelling like me.”
I knew she would. Women always liked to think of you going about your day with the smell of their tits and ass on you. It was the same thing as how men wanted to blow their load on a girl. It was all about marking your territory and branding someone as yours.
The truth was I was going straight from the airport to the gym so there was no point in showering just to work up a sweat again, but I didn’t need to let her know that. Women have long memories, so I knew Evangelina would remember this moment the next time we were together. It ensured that she would make it up to me—maybe with a really long blow job.
With Evanagelina in the bathroom, I threw back on the shirt and pants she’d ripped off of me an hour ago. After a quick glance in the mirror, I ran a brush through my hair to tame down the damage Evangelina had done. Once I was finished, I opened the bedroom door and went out into the main cabin.
I grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, popped it open, and gulped down a long, refreshing swig before collapsing down into one of the captain’s chairs. When I met my bodyguard and best friend, Ty’s, disgusted gaze, I cocked my brows at him. “What’s that look for?”
“Do you seriously have to ask?”
“Are you now going to police my available pussy?”
Ty rolled his eyes. “You know I never object to pussy.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“It’s more about having to hear someone else getting it on while I’m on the job, not to mention the fact that we’re thirty-six thousand feet up and I can’t go take a walk until you’re finished.”
Waggling my eyebrows, I said, “Did that operatic orgasm get under your skin a little?”
Ty cleared his throat as he shifted in his chair. “Let’s just say I deserve a hell of a raise for putting up with you and your fuck brigade.”
The captain’s voice interrupted us. “Mr. Callaha
n, I wanted to let you know we’re now thirty minutes outside of DC and we’ll landing soon.”
I crinkled my brows in confusion. “Wait, did he just say DC?”
“He did.”
“Why the hell would he say DC? We’re supposed to be going home to New York.”
“Your father phoned about twenty minutes into your operatic fuckfest to change
the flight plan. He wants to meet with you ASAP.”
Scrubbing my face with my hands that smelled like Evangelina, I groaned. Nothing good ever came from the last-minute meetings my father called—or any of his meetings. Several months ago, he had summoned me to my family’s summer home on Martha’s Vineyard. After ushering me and my twenty-year-old sister, Caroline, into his study, he had gotten a secure video call in from my brother, Thorn, an army captain serving in Afghanistan.
It was then he told us he had finally decided to heed the call to run for the highest office in the land. While I knew members of his party had been encouraging him for years, I still felt shocked as hell to hear the words come out of his mouth. He had just turned sixty. It was a time in a lot of men’s lives with they started to slow down or even retire. Now he was thinking of taking on one of the most mentally and physically demanding jobs in the world.
Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t that I didn’t think he should run, or that he wouldn’t be a good president. I couldn’t imagine anyone doing a better job than my dad. He’d been preparing for this moment all his life. Like the Kennedys and the Bushes, the Callahans were another rising political dynasty. My grandfather, James Thornton Callahan Sr., was the son of a self-made millionaire. He had spent over forty years as a senator from New York. His brother, Charles, had been a two-term governor of New Jersey. From those two brothers, the northeast saw several Callahans in office, from mayors to representatives to senators. My dad was serving his thirtieth year in the senate.
Although he hadn’t needed our blessing or our approval, he still wanted it; that was just the type of guy he was. Even though he’d been in politics all my life, he had never been an absentee father. I didn’t know how he had managed to make it to so many football games of Thorn’s and mine as well as Caroline’s dance recitals.