The President's Secret Baby: A Second Chance Romance Page 16

  The answer is good enough for Lawrence, but the others are not convinced. One general looks as though he’s about to say something, but a look from his commander-in-chief shuts him up before he even speaks.

  Lawrence’s hands are resting on the map, and he leans forward, putting his weight on them. The intelligence staff look up from the tablets in their hands. I assume they have additional information on there.

  Henry waves me into the circle around the table, and I take a step forward, my eyes already fixed on the map spread out in front of us. I recognize the islands in the South China Sea charted out in great detail.

  “Gentlemen, whatever this is about, please begin and fill me in,” Henry addresses the room.

  Lawrence gives a brief nod and gathers himself. The generals stand upright with their hands clasped behind their back so their chests stand out.

  “The situation is as follows, sir: a transport vessel sailing under the Dutch flag was boarded with force by pirates in the South China Sea. The incident must have occurred around here.”

  One of the generals points to a spot on the map.

  “We believe the pirates have taken the crew hostage and are in full control of the ship since between oh-five-hundred and oh-six-hundred hours this morning.”

  “How are we involved? What are the direct consequences for us?” Henry asks.

  One of the intelligence men speaks up with a monotonous voice. “The ship was operating as part of our special government contract.”

  He pulls up a document on his tablet and presents it to Henry. I can see the words Top Secret on the top of the screen.

  Henry briefly scans the contract, nodding, then waves his hand. “I see.”

  “The vessel carries what is the first shipment of enriched uranium out of China. This is the beginning of our fulfillment of the nuclear non-proliferation deal we’ve just reached in The Hague,” Lawrence continues.

  “So, the ship was already loaded when it fell into the hands of the pirates?” Henry asks with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m afraid so,” one of the generals answers. “To full capacity. Several tonnes.”

  “Why was there no military escort?” Henry asks, turning to him.

  “Stealth. Officially, the ship is a merchant vessel. A military escort would draw unnecessary international attention.”

  “Despite all this,” Lawrence interjects, “there is some good news. The special cargo is hidden among an otherwise inconspicuous freight. As of now, the pirates still think they have intercepted a regular shipment of unprocessed ore, minerals, and other raw material. They don’t know what they’ve gotten their hands on.”

  Henry crosses his arms in front of his chest, furrowing his brow. I look at him and know he’s already brooding, working his mind to defuse the situation without harm to anyone.

  “However, it’s a mere question of time until they discover the prize,” an admiral states.

  “Once they do,” Lawrence lines out, “we can expect they’ll try to sell it to the highest bidder.”

  “From the top of my head, I can think of more than one nation or rogue state that would love to take that shortcut to an atomic bomb,” Henry says with obvious concern.

  “Indeed. Time is of the essence, Mr President. We have to act immediately on this.”

  Henry looks over to the general with a nod. “Thank you all for bringing me up to speed on this with clarity and brevity, gentlemen.”

  “Mr President,” another general chimes in, “we’ve already played through several scenarios and come up with a couple of proposals for an action plan.”

  “General, I think I need to get the full picture and know which of our vessels are in the vicinity to decide on an approach to the situation. I believe it’s best if we take this discussion to the situation room.”

  Lawrence is already stepping forward to bend over the table, folding up the map as Henry points to the door.

  In the same succession, the long line of men marches out the door as quickly as they barged in.

  I can’t help but exhale loudly.

  There goes my hope of a quiet moment with Henry to intimately inform him of my pregnancy.

  Of course, this emergency around the non-proliferation deal is more important.

  What was I thinking—even if I was the first lady of the United States, I’d still and always be second to the presidency. Henry’s job always comes first.

  “Beatrice, are you coming?” Henry is leaning in the doorway, waiting for me with an inviting gesture.

  I blow up my cheeks and huff loudly, shaking off my thoughts. Here I am, miring in petty questions when the literal hat of presidential biographer beckons me to put it back on. I need to document the tension in the situation room.

  I hurry after Henry.

  I, too, have a job to do.

  Chapter 33

  Henry

  Blood is pounding in my ears as we all walk towards the situation room. To some men, being Commander-in-Chief to the United States military is one of the most alluring parts of the job.

  But I’m not here to start a war.

  And yet if we don’t stop these pirates soon, that is all I will be remembered for.

  I don’t want to imagine what would happen if the pirates discover the uranium, so I don’t. I want my first term as president to be defined by my ability to avoid crisis and create non-violent, diplomatic solutions to problems where possible.

  And now is my time to prove myself.

  With Beatrice by my side, I want to prove myself more than ever. I want to be a man and a president that she can be proud of. I’ve never met another woman who pushes me like this.

  I’m worried about her, though. Despite the ongoing crisis, she’s there, in the back of my mind.

  She was about to tell me something, and I can’t help but wonder what.

  As soon as this is over, I’ll ask her.

  We step into the situation room where my aides, generals, and advisers are beginning to take their spaces around the table. Lawrence is at the front of us all, and he has the map of the South China Sea open on the screen in the center of the desk. I take my position and look at Beatrice one last time as she shuffles into the corner, tape recorder on and notebook at the ready.

  “The good news is they still haven’t found the special cargo,” someone says lightly.

  It’s unlikely that they would have in the last four minutes, but Lawrence’s already stony serious face turns thunderously angry for a moment as he looks towards the speaker.

  “Have we spoken to China? Do they know about the pirates?” I ask, placing both hands on the desk in front of me and looking at the map. “What about the Dutch? The ship is flying under their flag.”

  “We’ve yet to tell the Chinese about the pirates hijacking the ship. We don’t want to appear weak or to concern them. The Dutch are equally in the dark. But we can bring them on board if we don’t have any of our ships in the area.”

  “And what’s our status on that? Do we have any ships in the area that are able to intercept?”

  The generals look between each other, and a technician zooms out on the map. The expanse of the blue ocean is painful on the eyes, but I can’t bear to look away.

  “Has anyone figured out what course the pirates are now traveling on? Is it possible to remotely access the onboard navigation system or work it out from how they’ve deviated from the previous course?”

  So many questions are being fired around the room, and the answers are so few. The sound of the top military brass talking with their people in search of friendly vessels in the South China Sea does little help.

  “What time is it in the South China Sea right now?”

  “The current time for the pirates is twenty-one eighteen.”

  Finally, we’ve got at least one answer.

  “So the pirates have had control of the vessel for possibly three hours?”

  The whole room hears the anger rising in my voice. Lawrence is quick to tu
rn to me and try to calm my trembling nerves.

  “We brought this to you as soon as we realized, Sir.”

  I trust that they did. But three hours is a long time when dealing with a potential nuclear fallout. It’s crucial that I handle this before it gets into the wrong hands—the whole world is waiting for me to fail, and I can’t give them the satisfaction.

  “At least it means it’s dark over the South China Sea. Perhaps if we have a submarine nearby, we can execute this mission without any casualties.”

  I take a breath and look at Beatrice again. She’s listening intently, the tension of the room reflected on her face.

  “Exactly how many hostages are there?” I ask.

  “The whole crew. Roughly about twenty men,” someone answers.

  “And the change in course?”

  “The vessel was originally heading east, back towards the United States. However, the vessel has been spotted heading south, towards the southwesterly islands of the Philippines.”

  One of the generals nods his head, and the tech assistant begins typing again in the corner. A flashing red dot appears to the left of the screen, following the movements of the vessel as it travels through the ocean.

  “We can only assume that, as they haven’t found the special cargo yet, it’s highly unlikely that they’ve checked all the shipments and are likely waiting until they reach land to do so. The bad news is that, as we all know, there is a high density of small islands in the South China Sea for them to land on—the closest of which is within forty-five minutes of the vessel.”

  That is bad news.

  If the pirates get to land, then they’ll have the advantage of being on their own soil and out of international waters. But the likelihood of us having a ship nearby is slim.

  “Sir?” A general addresses the room and interrupts my train of thought.

  “What are you thinking, General Teeling?”

  “There’s some good news. We do have a vessel within the vicinity of the hijacked ship.”

  Things are beginning to look up. But everything is still so fragile. For all we know, the vessel in question is an aircraft carrier, which would be like using a sledgehammer to squish a fly.

  “It’s an attack submarine, the Seahawk, with a crew of roughly seventy-five men, including a team of twenty divers.”

  Fuck, that’s perfect. I look around the room, my eyes lingering on Lawrence. He knows what I’m thinking.

  “How long will it take to come alongside the pirate vessel?”

  “If we send the signal now, it’ll take the Seahawk approximately thirty-two minutes to reach the hijacked freight ship.”

  “Will the ship be approachable in thirty-two minutes? It could possibly be in a littoral zone by then.”

  “It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

  I look back at Beatrice, who looks up from the notepad from where she had been furiously scribbling notes. She catches my eyes and smiles nervously, nodding her head.

  I take a deep breath and turn back to the room of generals and Lawrence, who are all eagerly awaiting my signal.

  “Send the signal. Instruct the diving team to approach the ship as stealthily as possible. Incapacitate the pirates, but only kill them if you have to. We’re going to bring these men to justice.”

  “Are the hostages a priority over the uranium?”

  I turn towards the source of the voice, and my eyes narrow slightly. “Hostages are always the priority.”

  The whole room suddenly snaps into life. I grab my chair and collapse into it, but I keep my eyes on the red dot at the center of the screen.

  Now that the signal has been sent, the Seahawk flashes up on the screen for us all to see as a black dot. It alters its course and begins to head southwest towards the hijacked ship at high speed.

  But is it going to be fast enough?

  Minutes pass like hours.

  The team of divers intercepts the pirated ship after thirty-one minutes and fifteen seconds.

  It turns out the pirates weren’t heading to the first island after all. Our brave service men and women neutralized the threat and secured the cargo within fifteen minutes and without casualties.

  I’m still in shock as to how perfect the whole mission was orchestrated and executed.

  After a short call to the Chinese government, they have allowed us to send a plane and take the pirates so that we can bring them back to the States to face trial.

  Though the news hasn’t broken to the press yet—and likely won’t for another few days—this will likely be remembered as one of the defining moments of my career. It’s not every president who gets to solve an international crisis without any casualties or sacrifices.

  But I know that to some people, mainly my critics, it still won’t be enough.

  I have to be the perfect president, and the level of success that we’ve had here today is what the whole world is expecting of me.

  They’re not just expecting it of me, either.

  Beatrice walks over to me and places her hand on my shoulder. The engagement ring glints in the light of all the computer screens. Ever since I decided to make her my First Lady, the whole world is watching her, too.

  She’s perfect to me, but is she perfect to them?

  I hate myself for thinking it, but Beatrice hasn’t been raised into the politician life as I have. It’s partially what I love about her.

  But I know that the media won’t.

  Chapter 34

  Beatrice

  I should have known back when I was an aide that I’d always be second to the job.

  I know the passion we shared then was intense—it was the kind of love you’d only find once in your life if you’re lucky.

  But Henry? Henry might just be the luckiest man alive, because he’s managed to find that kind of love twice.

  Firstly, he found it in his job.

  And secondly—always second—he found it in me.

  For a moment, I really did believe that the two of us could make it work. I would love Henry regardless of whether he’s the president, and I would want to support him, push him to chase his dreams even if it means working the drive-through at McDonald’s.

  But no woman wants to be in a relationship where she comes in second. I get it—he’s the president and leader of the free world, but it doesn’t make it any easier at the end of the day.

  The diamond ring on my finger has been feeling a lot more like a golden shackle as of late.

  It weighs on me as I sit in the corner of the Oval, watching silently with my notebook and tape recorder—ready to document anything that Henry might want in his biography.

  He’s so handsome, especially when he gets so passionate talking about policy, or how he might get a bill through congress, or wondering which senators are going to support him if he runs for re-election.

  My pen scribbles down quotes and atmospheric details. This scandal about the South China Sea might just be one of the defining moments of his presidency. It’ll be like JFK and the Cuban Missile Crisis.

  He’s stressed, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me—tells everyone—that Henry’s living his dream.

  I’m just beginning to wonder where I—where our baby—fits in to all of that.

  Because I’m no longer certain that I do...

  I’ve had to change so much since I’ve met Henry—since I agreed to date him—and since I said yes to being his wife.

  I’ve had to change my clothes and my style, sacrifice my career opportunities, and I’ve even started placing myself second. I’m not the person I was when I said yes or when Henry asked me to marry him.

  Does Henry really love me, or does he only love the project that I could be?

  I think back to the Italian State Dinner. I was a princess, and I looked beautiful.

  But it wasn’t me who made those choices. Sure, I wanted to go to the dinner, but I only went because I was summoned to do so.

  I was dressed and styled to the taste of
someone else.

  And while I was beautiful...was I really me?

  Is this the kind of life that I want to raise a child into?

  If I’m even allowed to go through with the pregnancy, what will it mean?

  Will they dress the baby in red, white, and blue? Will I have to sacrifice my image—my independence—even further to become the most famous housewife and mother in all of America?

  And what will they whisper about me then? I do hear them as I walk through the White House and when I’m attending dinners beside him. They can’t make up their minds about me.

  One moment, I’m living the fairy tale and they all wish that they could be me.

  The next, I’m a no-good, slutty social climber who’s sunk her claws into the president, and I’m going to ride his coattails—among other things—as far as he’ll take me.

  Just imagine when they find out that I’m pregnant.

  I’ll be crucified. I’ll be a gold digger. I’ll have only gotten pregnant to trap Henry and make sure he can’t leave me—even if he wanted to.

  I’ll be selfish, and I’ll be a slut.

  I bet they’d even question whether my child is his.

  And all that is just what they’d whisper about me behind my back. I can’t help imagining what the press and the papers will have to say about me when they find out. Or worse, what his opposition is going to say.

  They’ll say it to my face. They’ll say it loud enough for the whole country—the whole world—to hear. It’ll be broadcast across the twenty-four-hour news network, and I’m not sure that I’m ready.

  Once this meeting is over and we’re all dismissed from the Oval Office, I collect my things and begin to stride out from the room as quickly as I can.

  “Where are you going?” Hope whispers to me under her breath.

  “I’m not feeling good,” I whisper back, still piling my pens and paper into my handbag.

  “Will we be seeing you later?”

  I shrug one shoulder noncommittally, and I can’t bring myself to look up at her.

  “I don’t know.”

  It’s the most honest answer I can give to her right now.

  Hope, after all, knows the truth.