The President's Secret Baby: A Second Chance Romance Read online

  “I can’t get out of my apartment, Henry!”

  “Yes, I know. Hope just told me.”

  “They know!”

  “No, they don’t know anything. They just think that they do.”

  There’s a pause, and I’m pretty sure I hear her take a drink of something on the other end.

  “It’s all going to be okay, Bea. We’re here to help. Are you safe right now?”

  There’s a pause and a sigh from her end before she answers.

  “Yes.”

  I release a breath in relief and nod, closing my eyes.

  “Okay, good. Now, tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”

  I sit back down in my chair and listen as she recounts her morning, and the more she explains, the worse I feel.

  Having her bombarded and trapped in her apartment by paparazzi is definitely not how I pictured our relationship starting, but it is what it is.

  This is all my fault; I should have been more careful, more discreet. There’s nothing I can do about it now, though, except deal with it and make sure she’s alright. We’ve got the ball rolling on this, intentional or not, and now we’ve got to keep it under control.

  “Alright, Bea, listen. I know this is all crazy and nerve-wracking, but I’m going to fix this. Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”

  I hear her breath shudder, and she takes a deep breath, collecting herself.

  “I know. Thank you. I’m just so...”

  Her voice trails off, and I take the moment remind her that she’s not alone in this.

  “Look, we’ve got this, Bea. I give you my word that it’ll all be fine before the morning is through.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Stay so calm in moments like this?”

  Despite the situation, I can’t help letting out a small chuckle. “Well, you don’t get to be president without some nerves of steel. Or least a decent poker face.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” I can hear the smile on her face as she speaks.

  “In the meantime, stay right there in your apartment. I’m going to send a car to come get you. I’ll need you to pack a bag.”

  She’s silent for a moment, and I start to think I’ve lost her.

  “Bea, you there?”

  “Yes, sorry, I’m here. Pack a bag. Okay, got it. But what about Duke?”

  “Don’t worry about Duke. We’ll have him brought along shortly. First things first, though, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I can tell she’s not happy about that part, but priorities are priorities.

  “Do you have anyone who can look after him? Just to be safe?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll call her and have her come by.”

  “Good. I know how important Duke is to you, so don’t worry. We’ll have him covered and along in no time.”

  “We better. He’s the most important man in my life, you know.”

  I smirk and lean back in my chair, happy to hear that her tone has lightened up a bit and she isn’t as frantic.

  “Really? More important than even me? The president? I’ll have to change that.”

  “You’ve got your work cut out for you with that one.”

  I laugh, and she does, too, and we both take a moment to breathe, just enjoying the quiet sounds of each other breathing.

  She breaks the silence first, her voice tentative and soft. “Are you going to be with the car that comes to get me?”

  “No, I have to stay here and make some arrangements and get a few things ready. I’d be there if I could.”

  “Oh, I know, I understand. Just asking.”

  She sighs, and I can hear her rummaging around in the background, probably packing her bag.

  “I’m sorry about this, Bea. We talked about taking things slow, and then the paparazzi show up at your door and barricade you in your apartment.”

  “It’s okay. We both should have seen this coming. At least now we don’t have to go sneaking about.”

  That’s Beatrice, always finding the silver lining.

  I laugh softly and smile into the phone. “You’re right, that’s true. Now go get packed, and I’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  I hang up the phone just as Lawrence and Hope return to the Oval office.

  “So, I’ve gotten a permanent security detail set up for Beatrice. They’re already on their way over to her place now,” Lawrence says in anticipation of my question.

  “Who’s in charge of it?”

  “Scott Grimes.”

  I nod approvingly. Scott would’ve been my choice to head her detail as well.

  “I’ve also got a couple of different statements prepped for the press as well.”

  I turn to Hope with a raised eyebrow. “Already?”

  Her lips turn upward into a quirky smirk. “Yup.”

  “You really are the best in there is, Hope.”

  “Oh, I know. And I know you two would both be lost without me.”

  Lawrence and I share a look and a chuckle.

  “Once Bea gets here, we can discuss our game plan in more detail. I know she’ll want in on whatever we decide to go with,” Hope adds.

  “Agreed. Let’s get to work, people.”

  Chapter 25

  Beatrice

  The Secret Service doesn’t fuck around.

  The men that Henry sent to have the paparazzi cleared from my path went about it with the effort of swatting a mosquito.

  It’s an odd juxtaposition to feel this anxious, yet incredibly safe, at the same time.

  The trip to the White House feels like an eternity.

  A wave of relief washes over me once we make it through the gates. Regardless of what Hollywood would have you think with all those movies, this is perhaps the most secured place on the planet.

  I’m led through the building—even though I know exactly where everything is—and to the Oval Office.

  When the doors open, I see Henry sitting on the ledge of the Resolute desk with Hope and Lawrence.

  He looks evidently worried, but that quickly fades to relief when his green eyes see me walk into the office.

  Henry moves across the large office as if strapped to a rocket to scoop me up into his arms.

  I’ve never felt safer and more protected.

  His lips meet mine in a brief, tender kiss that makes me smile.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just a bit shaken up,” I say with a nod. “I really wasn’t expecting to be bombarded like that. Not this soon anyway.”

  “We were hoping to control the flow of information when the news of your involvement broke, but the press picked up where the European papers left off,” Hope says as she crosses her arms over her chest.

  Given how crazy and frantic everything has been, I’m glad to see Hope here.

  At first, I wasn’t sure how she felt about me, but after we talked last night, I know that she’s firmly in my corner.

  Lawrence, on the other hand, is difficult to read.

  I know I shouldn’t give a damn how he feels about me—or my blossoming relationship with Henry—but I do. I know how close and important Lawrence is to Henry, and that means that he’s important to me, too.

  So, for Henry’s sake, I want to make sure he’s on board with this, too.

  “So, what’s our next step? I can’t hide from the press forever.”

  “You’re right. So that means we need to whip you into First Lady material,” Hope answers with a grin.

  “Whoa, back the truck up. ‘First Lady material?’ What happened to taking things slowly?”

  I feel like my eyes are going to pop out as I look up at Henry—who’s grinning ear to ear as he looks down at me.

  “Figuratively speaking. Not literally.”

  “Uh-huh,” I respond with a grin of my own.

  “Look, if I was going to propose, I wouldn’t ask Hope to be my proxy.”

  “No, he’d lead you
out into the South Lawn where all Secret Service agents would be dressed as Cupid in a giant heart formation and armed with semi-automatic weapons, while he got down on one knee,” Lawrence chimes in deadpan.

  “Well, now that that option is on the table, how can I not go with that?” Henry says with a laugh as he look over his shoulder at his friend.

  “But seriously, what’s your plan?” I ask looking past Henry to Hope.

  “Well, for starters, we need to change your wardrobe.”

  “What’s wrong with my wardrobe?”

  “Don’t get me wrong Beatrice, you’re quite trendy, but your style is more about blending in than standing out.”

  “And I’m guessing the plan is to make me stand out more.”

  “Yes, and have your style and outfits match Henry’s,” Lawrence chimes in.

  As fun as it is to have your choice in clothing judged—hint, it’s not—I understand their reasoning.

  And hey, new wardrobe though. That’s a bonus.

  “At Henry’s order, we’ve set up a security detail for you as well. This way, when you and Hope go shopping, the press will be kept at bay.”

  “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure there’s plenty of wine wherever we go.”

  Hope’s lips flash a mischievous smile, and her eyes dance about playfully.

  This is sounding more enjoyable by the minute.

  Henry and Lawrence share a look of mild concern and intrigue. It’s like two parents second-guessing their decision to let their kids run around Disneyland unattended.

  “I promise that we’ll behave. Mostly,” I say as I reach up to kiss Henry on the cheek.

  “We also have a room for you here. Going back to your apartment is just a tad too risky,” Lawrence states.

  “What about Duke?”

  Henry senses my concern and takes my hand in his. He gives it a gentle squeeze and flashes me a reassuring smile.

  “Don’t worry, Bea, I’ll have my people bring him here. I’m sure he’ll love having such a big lawn.”

  Could this man be any more perfect?

  Our lips meet in a quick kiss that makes my stomach flutter with butterflies and fireworks.

  Against my thigh, I feel the vibrating of my cell.

  When I pull it from my pocket, I can see Fiona’s name in big bold letters.

  Henry notices who it is and nods for me to take the call.

  We steal another kiss before I step out of the office and into the hallway.

  “Hey, Fiona.”

  “Hey! Are you okay? I just caught the news about the massive ambush outside your place. I heard that the Secret Service showed up and marched you out of there.”

  I can hear the tension and concern in her voice.

  Oddly enough, it makes me smile knowing that she’s so concerned.

  “I’m fine, really. It was pretty nerve-wracking at first, but I called Henry and he had his people come grab me. I’m at the White House right now.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re okay. In case you hadn’t noticed, I was pretty fucking worried over here.”

  “Oh, I caught that,” I say with a chuckle.

  Fiona laughs softly on her end.

  “Can I ask you something, Bea?”

  “Always.”

  “Are you happy with the gig?”

  “Of course I am. Aside from the fact that it led me to being with Henry, this is a huge opportunity. Why?”

  There’s a short pause that leaves me a bit worried.

  “Well, you know how you had your eye on the European office in Brussels?”

  “Yes, I’ve been aiming to land that job for years. But Daniel’s made it clear he isn’t stepping down anytime soon.”

  “Well, Daniel resigned just this morning. Turns out he was banging two of his editors.”

  “Seriously?! Which ones?”

  “Rachel Neveu and Stephen Moyer.”

  My jaw drops in surprise.

  Never would I have seen that coming in a million years.

  “So, since Daniel stepped down, the job is there—if you want it.”

  “Wait, what? They’re offering me the position?”

  If I was surprised by Daniel’s resignation, I’m outright stunned now.

  “Nobody’s more qualified than you.”

  “As tempting as the offer is—and it really is—I’ve got a good thing going on here.”

  “As Henry’s biographer or as his woman?”

  “Both?”

  I hear her chuckle again on the other end. I picture Fiona in my head sitting at her desk and shaking her head at me right now.

  “If you’re a hundred percent certain this is what you want, then I’ll let them know you’ve passed. But if you change your mind, chances are the job won’t be there.”

  I look over my shoulder to the doors of the Oval Office.

  “Oh, well.”

  Chapter 26

  Henry

  It’s been a few days since Beatrice’s run-in with the paparazzi, and all things considered, she’s settling in here and adjusting quite nicely. We seem to have found a good balance so far, and she’s actually making being the president and dealing with things a lot more bearable.

  I can honestly say that I love being president, I truly can. I’m doing things that make a difference, helping shape the minds of tomorrow, making my mark on the world, and helping to better our country.

  I generally love my day-to-day, but meetings like this one always seem to drag on and on, and I find myself distracted by the halfway mark.

  I’m in the Oval Office, meeting with the Speaker of the House as well as a few other high-ranking officials and senators, and this particular meeting is exceptionally boring.

  It wouldn’t be so bad if the topic of discussion wasn’t something that we’ve already hashed out a dozen times—it’s like beating a dead horse at this point.

  So, while the Speaker is droning on about matters we’ve discussed already, I’m sitting here, ‘listening’ and ‘taking notes.’

  In reality, I am listening, but the note I’m writing is definitely not relevant to the topic at hand.

  I glance down at my paper, and I smirk as I re-read what I’ve written in my note to Bea, knowing full well that she’ll blush a thousand shades of red when she reads it—hopefully in front of someone.

  Chuckling softly to myself, I fold the page in half and bring my full attention back to the speaker who seems to be wrapping up—finally.

  I’ve had about enough of this for today.

  I stand from my seat, and that cues everyone—namely the Speaker—to stop speaking. One of the really great things about being president is that when you stand up to say something, no one dares to interrupt you.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough of that for today. If we’ve got any concerns or changes to make regarding this, we’ll reconvene, but I don’t imagine we’ll need to discuss it again.”

  I hope that drives my point home.

  The room starts to empty, and I buzz Lawrence to send one of the interns to my office. Before I know it, a young man is whisking himself into the room, the tell-tale intern badge swinging around his neck as he approaches my desk.

  I lean forward and squint so I can read his name on his badge and smile, digging through my desk drawer.

  “Hello, Todd. I have a task for you.”

  “Yes, Mr President.”

  I pull out my wax and presidential seal and apply it to the dirty note I wrote for Beatrice. I hand it over to the intern and look at him with focused intent, wiping my face of all traces of a smile.

  “I need you to bring this to Miss Barlow at once. Give it to her and her only. No assistants, no other staff members, her. Do you understand?”

  He nods eagerly and takes the note from my hand, darting out of the room to complete his errand.

  The office is nearly empty now, and I sit back in my chair. Immediately, I lean back with a smile, and I start to think about how fu
n it’d be to be a fly on the wall when she reads that note.

  A final lone senator approaches my desk and narrows his eyes, his arms crossed in front of him.

  “Mr President, is this woman going to be a distraction for you? You didn’t seem focused during the meeting.”

  I’m taken aback at how brazen he is, and I glare at him. I’m not the type who likes to have my motivations and dedication questioned, especially from a man who’s been caught—on more than one occasion, I might add—with his pants down, literally, and generally having no fucking clue what the people of his state actually want.

  I stand from my chair and lean into my palms on the massive desk—my desk—as I meet his eyes.

  “No, Senator. She won’t be. And you’d be very fucking wise to keep your opinions and concerns regarding my personal life to yourself. Are we fucking clear?”

  I dare the man to rebuke my words, and he visibly shrinks at my tone.

  “Sir, Mr President, I didn’t mean—”

  “Didn’t mean? Or didn’t think?” I interrupt him abruptly and coldly with a look to match. “Would you ask this of a president who was already married? Would you ask him if his wife would be a distraction to him? No, you wouldn’t. Now get the fuck out of my office. You’re dismissed.”

  He nods curtly and quickly leaves my office, making his exit like a dog with its tail between its legs.

  The meeting has me pretty frustrated right now, and I still have loads of paperwork to get through before lunch. I stare at the towering pile on my desk and force myself to get a start on it. The sooner I get it done, the sooner I can get to lunch.

  I spend the better part of two hours with my head down at my desk, powering through documents that need my signature, approving initiatives, and writing letters to various people and organizations.

  Once I’m finished, I’m more than a bit relieved to be sitting in the dining room just off my office without a scrap of paper in sight.

  There’s a knock on the door, and I beckon it open. I smile when I see Beatrice walk though as the staffer opens it for her.

  She’s holding my note in her hand, and she waves it in the air, a bewildered look on her face—and a flirty smirk.

  “Really, Henry?”

  I smirk and nod at the staffer to close the door. I laugh when she stands a few feet from me with a hand on her hip.