Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(5)By: Alexis Angel
“I have a proposal for you. But I guess you already figured out that much, haven’t you?”
“Yes, that much is clear,” I reply, locking eyes with her. Careful now, I think to myself, trying to read Tracy’s expression. You see, we’ve never crossed paths against each other before, I know enough about this woman to know not to fuck around with her. She’s professional, efficient, and shrewd when she has to be. You don’t get to be the President’s Chief of Staff just because you know the right people; no, it takes guts.
“Let me just make something clear, Tracy,” I continue before she can say anything, “if the President is looking to get some blackmail material on his opponents, I’m out.”
“Oh? I see,” she whispers while, at the same time, a hint of a smile dawns on her lips. “You’re in luck, though. What I came here to propose has nothing to do with blackmail. We want you to become President Bain's fiancée. A fake fiancée, sure, but it has to be believable.”
“Is this how you decided to fight against this 'President Player' scandal?” I ask her, cocking one eyebrow. My sources were right, but I never thought that Tracy would come in here with something as crazy as this.
“You’re right. How do you know?”
“I have my ways, Tracy,” I simply tell her, not wanting to give her more information than necessary. Secrecy is another important pillar in this business.
“I take it you’re familiar with what has been going on then?”
“I am,” I reply, thinking back to the confusion outside of the Sofitel Hotel, and how every single channel on TV seemed to become completely obsessed with President’s Austin sexual escapade with the South Korean ambassador.
“Well, we’ve devised a PR strategy to pull the President out of the mess he’s in… And, like I said, that’s where you come in, Ashley. If you accept this job, you’ll become his fiancée so that he can rehabilitate his image.”
“That’s all fine and dandy, but why come to me? I bet there’s a small army of eager women more than willing to play that part. I mean, he’s the 'President Player,' after all.” I know, maybe I shouldn’t have jabbed at her like that, but what can I do? I’ve never been a big fan of President Austin, or any other politician, for that matter.
“Let’s just say I’ve been following your … career. You’re an interesting woman, Ashley, and I always thought that a woman with your skills could be needed in a time of crisis. You’re smart, discreet, and above all else, you won’t get personally involved. And that’s exactly what the President needs right now.” She makes a short pause, perhaps for dramatic effect, and then clears her throat. “I know this is a lot to take, so feel free to take a minute and let all this sink in.”
“I don’t need to take a minute,” I say right away, making my decision in a heartbeat. “My answer’s no. I’m not interested; a job like that would draw too much attention toward myself, and that’d be game over for my company.”
I’m saying no, but you wanna know something?
My brain is the one controlling me here. Because the reptilian part of me - the part that’s only thinking about sex – is screaming yes. It wants to take my body and lay it all over Austin Bain. To lick his abs. To rub his cock in my face. To grab his ass cheeks and squeeze.
The part of me that’s not talking wants to make a condition that I’ll be his fake fiancée only on the condition that he takes my virginity. Then cums buckets of cum all over me. Makes me scoop it up and swallow it. And then defiles me all over again.
Seriously, you gotta be insane to pass up sex with this President. Probably the hottest man who ever walked the planet.
But again, my brain says no.
“Ashley, please. Think this through. Your President needs you. Your country needs you. Austin is doing good work, and I believe he might be the change this country has been sorely missing. I believe in him, or else I wouldn’t be here right now, asking for your help. Please reconsider,” she asks me and, even though I’m more than used to this for-the-greater-good bullshit, I can tell that Tracy believes it.
“I don’t care if he’s the President. He’s still a DC politician, and I know the type. Forget about the United States or the greater good; Austin is President because he has a massive ego, nothing more. Besides, DC politics is something I’m really not interested in.”
“We’ll pay you. We’ll pay you very, very well,” Tracy says, switching gears in a fraction of a second. Maybe she’s thinking that if she can’t reach me through emotion, she might be able to do it through my bank account.
“Answer’s still no,” I sigh. “I’m doing well for myself, as you can see,” I say, casually waving my hand at the office.
“Twenty million,” she then shoots, and I have to take a moment. Did I hear right? 20 million to pretend to be someone’s fiancée?
“I told you, I’m doing well,” I reply, trying to sound casual even though my heart has picked up an urgent pace. 20 million is a lot of money, even if business is booming. That much money could be enough for me to change my life for good… I could stop seducing old men for a living. As fun as it is, it isn’t exactly something I want to be doing for the rest of my life.
“How much do you want then? Our pockets are deep.”
“50 million,” I reply, my heart now beating so fast that I feel lightheaded. With 50 million in my pocket, I could just pack my bags and leave this world of intrigue behind me. I could start a new life wherever I want. Maybe try and do something that really matters.
“50 million then,” Tracy whispers after a short pause, and I can tell that she wasn’t exactly prepared to settle for a sum that high. Well, tough luck.
“We have a deal then,” I tell her, offering her my hand once more. Gripping it, she shakes it as she looks into my eyes. I look back at her but, really, all I can see right now are fat stacks of bills.
One last job.
The White House—there’s no other building on Earth quite like it. Over the past 100 years it has carved a place for itself in the psyche of billions of people, and it stands as the epicenter of the modern world. As for me, I think it stands for the epicenter of hypocrisy. Not that I should be complaining, I mean, it’s exactly that hypocrisy that will net me a cool $50 million. How does that saying go? If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
“Are you following all this?” Reese Dawson, the Vice President herself, asks me from across the table.
“I am,” I nod, looking around the table and offering a smile to the few anxious faces looking at me. There’s the Vice President, the Chief of Staff, and a few other members of the President’s inner circle, and they’re briefing me on the backstory I’m supposed to sell to the press. “I met Austin at a charity event two years ago and we started out as friends who knew each other through other mutual friends. After realizing how big of a heart Austin has, that friendship turned into something more … I didn’t want to be in the spotlight, and so Austin did his best to protect me from it. We’ve been dating on and off for a while but have grown closer and only after the latest scandal did Austin and I realize that what we needed in our lives was each other,” I repeat, summing up everything I’ve been told during the past hour. “I got this. Let’s just make sure that Austin can do his part.”
“He will,” Tracy tries to assure me, but she does that while looking at her wristwatch. You see, Austin was supposed to be here with us, but I guess he deemed himself too important to meet his faux fiancée on time. “He’ll be here soon, anyway,” Tracy continues, almost as if she could read my mind.
“Maybe he’s banging some intern,” I chuckle, letting the words out without a second thought. Hey, it’s not like I’m being mean; it’s very probable that Austin is really banging an intern. He wouldn’t be the first, anyway.
“Banging an intern,” Reese Dawns snorts, repeating my words under her breath and chuckling after me. Then, noticing that everyone is looking at her, she takes one clenched hand to her mouth and clears her throat, pretending she didn’t say a word.
I’m about to say another joke when the door to the meeting room swings open abruptly and President Bain steps through. He walks toward his seat at the head of the table, adjusting his cuff links as he goes.
“Glad to see you’re on board with this,” he tells me as he sits down, leaning back on his chair and grinning at me. What a smug asshole, not even a word of apology for coming in late. I guess that he’s more than used to doing what he wants, when he wants. Exactly the kind of man I’m used to luring into my traps, except this time, I’m part of the asshole’s team. I guess $50 million has helped hide my moral qualms out of sight.
“Tracy here was very persuasive,” I reply casually, offering him a cool stare. I don’t even bother with greeting him; if he thinks he’s above that, so am I.
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