Chapter Nine

 

“My phone has been blowing up all day about this Capitol Scandals article.” Vanessa looked frazzled as Liz walked into the press office. She turned her screen Liz’s way. “Have you seen this? It’s ridiculous. Tell me we’re suing the hell out of whoever runs this trashy rag.”

So the story was already making the rounds. Liz had known it wouldn’t stay a blip for long.

She headed for her office. “We’re not suing anyone. I’ll have a statement for the press in an hour or so.”

“Do you know what they’re saying?” Vanessa managed to make her shocked expression somehow look pouty.

“I’ve read the article.” She didn’t mention that she’d helped Lara write it.

“They’re accusing the First Lady of having an affair.”

“She was never the First Lady.” Why had that come out sounding so defensive?

Vanessa reared back. In fact, she wasn’t the only one who seemed surprised. Most of the office had turned their attention to the byplay between her and Vanessa. “She would have been. And she would have been a great First Lady. This article drags her through the mud.”

“I’ll have a discussion with the chief of staff about it and we’ll proceed from there.” She glanced around at the room, bringing them all into the conversation. “For now, if anyone asks, we don’t respond to tabloid reporting. I know that we’ll have to deal with it when the mainstream media get hold of the story, but until then, that’s our line. No leaks, people.”

She turned to head toward her office. Vanessa followed.

“And what about the other story that’s going to break at some point?” Vanessa asked.

Liz had a million stories to worry about. “Which one?”

“The one where the president of the United States is sleeping with his press secretary.” The brunette thrust a hand on her hip, her stare full of accusation. “Did you think you could keep that secret for long?”

With the way Zack was on top of her most of the time? No. “If that speculation hits the public, the president and I will decide how to handle it.”

“You know, I’m shocked. Truly, I am. I knew you were close to him, but I didn’t think you would behave this unprofessionally. You were his wife’s friend.”

“Joy Hayes has been gone for three years. The president is a single man, and as you know he’s been on multiple dates with high-profile women recently. I don’t appreciate your speculation about my relationship with him. Frankly, it’s unprofessional for you to gossip in the office, especially to me. I don’t want to hear another word about this. If that’s a problem for you, Vanessa, the door is right there.”

The younger woman’s eyes widened. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I heard the rumors. I thought you’d want to know because I looked up to you.”

“Whatever relationship I have with the president is private and I won’t discuss it. Nor do I want anyone else doing so in the office. Are we clear?”

“Yes.” Vanessa had turned a nice shade of red. She gestured toward Liz’s office. “You’ve got a visitor. He was very agitated, so I didn’t want to leave him out here to disrupt everyone. He’s in your office.”

Liz raised a brow. “You let someone in my private office without my permission?”

That question seemed to stump her. “I-I thought… Well, we’re supposed to squash rumors not feed into them, and that man could cause all sorts of rumors. You’ll see what I mean. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

As Vanessa left, Liz fought the urge to charge after the woman and fire her, but she gritted her teeth, determined to get through the day without making rash, angry decisions. Besides, Vanessa had admired Joy, who had viewed herself as a mentor to the younger woman.

In fact, when she and Zack rolled out their relationship to the public, Liz knew she’d have to remember that, according to all polls, the American people had had a very favorable opinion of Joy. They had genuinely been horrified at her loss and mourned. She also couldn’t forget that, besides being incredibly handsome, Zack was a beloved figure. No matter what happened, the press would always be fascinated with him. So once they went public, some women would view her as a social climber or worse. She would have to handle the accusations and the slurs with grace and aplomb.

Liz opened the door, ready to deal with whatever pesky reporter had an ax to grind. Instead, she stopped short at the sight of the man—not a reporter at all—standing by her desk.

Joy’s father, Paul Harding, occupied her office, his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks and wearing an angry glower. He was in his late sixties, still fit from years of training. His hair had gone a stark silver, which he kept neatly trimmed. His pale eyes reminded Liz so much of his daughter’s.

He came to visit old Frank frequently. Joy’s father and Zack’s father had been friends forever; it was one reason their children had married. But today, Liz rued that Paul had been basically given open access to the White House because she knew exactly what story had brought him here.

“Hello, Paul.”

“What the hell is going on, Liz? I got a call from a reporter wanting to know if my daughter cheated on her husband. Where is the White House’s official response to this tripe? What is Zachary doing to quell it?”

Liz rounded her desk and sat with a sigh. “Why don’t you have a seat, Paul?”

“I don’t want a seat. I want to know why some tabloid is telling lies about my daughter, and you’re not doing a damn thing about it. Joy was a good girl. She would never have cheated on Zack, and especially not with someone like Roman Calder.”

“No one is saying Joy actually cheated on Zack. I believe what the article implies is that Joy and Roman were close emotionally.”

Paul’s mouth flattened in an angry line. “This trashy online tabloid said she planned to leave Zack if he lost the election.”

“They were only married because of the election.” It was time to get real with the man. Clearly, he wanted to play the ignorant, but she knew the truth. She’d bet he did too. “Their marriage wasn’t a love match, Paul. You, Frank, and the other advisors carefully orchestrated it.”

Paul Harding paced across her office. “Just because Joy married smart doesn’t mean she didn’t care about Zack. She was a good wife.”

“No one is saying she wasn’t.” Though it would come up. Once social media ran with the story, Joy’s reputation might get savaged, but Liz knew that treatment was waiting for her, too.

He braced his hands on the chair in front of her desk. “I want to talk to Zack.”

“I’ll call him and see if I can arrange a meeting.”

“Why aren’t you out there fighting this, Liz?” Paul’s anger dissipated, leaving genuine confusion in its wake. “Why haven’t you gone after this shit peddler? You would do it in a heartbeat if it was Zack’s reputation on the line.”

She couldn’t tell the man the truth, that she’d helped to float the narrative so Zack could begin to defray a Russian blackmailer’s threats. But she had to be as straight as possible with Paul because the story wasn’t dying anytime soon. In fact, given their plans, it would likely get worse. “I’m not going after them because the story is true. We’ve recently found evidence that Joy and Roman planned to start dating after her divorce from Zack. She and Zack had discussed the situation and agreed that, if he lost the election, they would go their separate ways.”

“No. I’ve never heard a word about this. Even if it’s true, I don’t care. She wouldn’t have gone through with it. The pressure of the campaign simply got to her. You have to release a statement denying these allegations.”

“Paul, the tabloid has copies of the electronic messages Joy and Roman sent each other. She was involved in an emotional affair with him. I think we can handle this delicate situation in a way that everyone will understand and forgive.” In some ways, it might make Zack, Joy, and especially Roman, who wasn’t particularly liked by the press, seem more human. “I’m going to handle this with kid gloves, I promise you. No one wants Joy to look like the bad guy.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you’ll have no problem painting her in that light if it helps Zack. You’ll just throw my daughter to the sharks and not look back.”

“I have no intention of allowing that to happen. Joy was loved by many.”

“Tell me something. Who was Zack involved with? Because I don’t believe for an instant Joy would have done this if she’d been getting the attention she needed and deserved from her husband. So I have to wonder if Zack wasn’t having a…what did you call it? Emotional affair with another woman, probably someone close to him. Someone he saw every day. Who could that be?” He stroked his chin as if thinking hard. “Why isn’t the media discussing that?”

Liz knew exactly what Paul was insinuating, but she and Zack had kept everything completely above board. Admittedly, they’d shared an attraction, but it had been completely unspoken until that lunch in Memphis before tragedy struck. Certainly they’d never sent one another emails or notes like Joy and Roman had clandestinely.

“The media isn’t covering it because it didn’t happen. Any other conversation you’d like to have on this subject should probably be between you and Zack.” When it came to family matters, she couldn’t speak for Zack. Paul was his former father-in-law, so Zack was best suited to handle the man and the delicate situation. “I know his schedule for this afternoon is tight. I can see if he has any time next week.”

“By then it will be too late, won’t it?” He backed up, shaking his head. “I can see what’s happening now. He’s planning on marrying again and he knows how beloved Joy was. If he can make her look bad, then people will sympathize with him and accept his new wife. I have theories of my own about who that could be. Don’t expect me to play along.”

“That sounds like a threat. I think you should remember who you’re talking about.”

“And I think you should remember why he’s in this house right now. We all know he wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for my daughter. If you think for one second that I’ll let him use her in death the same way he did in life, you’re completely mistaken. You know what? I don’t think I need to talk to Zack at all. You’ve always had his…ear. You tell him that if he doesn’t deny this story, I’ll release one of my own, and he won’t like it.”

Paul turned and stormed out of her office.

She leapt from her chair and headed straight for the Oval. As much as she hated to, she had to tell Zack about Paul’s visit.

Ahead of her, the man’s long, angry strides took him not toward the exit, but in a completely different direction. She followed, her every instinct flaring as he marched to the residential wing.

He stopped to talk to a security guard who checked his credentials. Then a man in scrubs came down the stairs and shook Paul’s hand. Together, they walked back up.

Liz eased into the hall. “Hey, Jim. Is Paul Harding going to see Ambassador Hayes?”

“Yes. He’s right on time,” the sentry said, gesturing to the schedule on his laptop. “It’s nice of him to visit since, according to the nurses, he’s the only one besides the president who can get the ambassador to talk for any length of time. They have pleasant chats.”

Paul visiting Frank Hayes was a fairly recent development. He’d been active in the campaign, but after Joy’s death, he’d retreated to his California estate for a couple of years. Not too long ago he’d moved back to the DC area, saying it felt more like home.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She forced a smile. “It’s nice that someone can calm him down. I need to go up and grab a few things I left up there. I won’t be long.”

Jim’s grin told her he wasn’t unaware of where she’d been sleeping lately. “Of course, Ms. Matthews.”

“Liz, please.” She didn’t love the formality so many longtimers clung to.

“I don’t think it will be Liz for long.” He leaned over, his voice conspiratorially low. “You know we’re not allowed to call the First Lady by her first name.”

“That is not happening any time soon.” She didn’t even try to deny it. They couldn’t exactly hide the fact that she had practically moved in. And then she winced as she remembered another tradition. “Tell me the staff hasn’t started a betting pool.”

His laugh let her know they had. “I’ve got my money on under six weeks because I know President Hayes and when he decides he wants something, he goes after it and gets it very quickly. Work fast, future FLOTUS, because my daughter starts college soon and I need cash.”

“You’re all horrible,” she admonished with a smile. His gentle teasing was a balm to the hurt she’d felt after her run-in with Vanessa.

At least it seemed as if the general staff wasn’t bothered at the thought of her having a relationship with their commander and chief. She winked his way and climbed the stairs.

How close could she get to Frank’s room without anyone noticing? Heck, why was she bothering? Paul was just pissed off and looking for someone to take his frustration out on. She’d been convenient. Unless he’d come to see if Frank could tell him who the president slept with these days—good luck with Frank remembering anything beyond his own name—she didn’t see how Paul’s visit could be anything except their regularly scheduled get-together.

On the other hand, she didn’t trust Paul in this mood and she didn’t need him stirring the pot. Best to make sure he wasn’t agitating the ailing man.

Liz turned down the hallway that led to Frank’s rooms. If anyone asked, she would say she was checking on him. She did it from time to time because it was hard for Zack to break free and see the older man…and because Zack and his father had a complicated relationship. Still, they both felt better knowing he was well taken care of.

She turned again, just in time to see the nurse walk across the hall and into the space he used for his breakroom, a soft drink in hand. He hummed as he opened the door and entered.

So the nurses left Paul alone with Frank. That was interesting. She crept further along the hallway. Frank had a suite of rooms, a bedroom, sitting room, small dining area, and a bathroom they’d converted to make it easy for him to shower. If the older men were back in his bedroom, she would have to sneak into the unit to hear them.

Liz took two steps in that direction, then noticed the nurse hadn’t closed the breakroom door. She stopped herself inches shy of the nurse being able to spot her if he looked across the hall. Then she frowned, feeling foolish.

What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t sneaky. She definitely wasn’t a spy. If Paul caught her, god only knew what excuse she could give. Probably not a good one, and in his mood she didn’t think it was smart to piss him off more.

Liz shook her head. She couldn’t do this. So Paul was grief-ridden and bitter—who could blame him—and he might fire back at Zack in the press? It was nothing she couldn’t handle. She had no right or reason to listen in on this conversation.

She turned around to head back down the hall—and ran smack into a wall of muscle.

“Elizabeth?” Zack cupped her arms, balancing her so she didn’t stumble over.

Why did she feel like she’d been caught doing something wrong? “Sorry, I was…this is going to sound crazy, but Paul Harding showed up in my office. He was very upset about the Capitol Scandals story. He made some threats and stormed out, so I followed him.”

“He’s here, visiting my father?” Zack looked toward Frank’s door. When she nodded, Zack frowned. “And you wanted to listen in to find out what they discussed?”

She winced. “Maybe it sounds crazy, but I wanted to make sure Paul wasn’t stirring up trouble by either planting suggestions in your dad’s head or trying to ask Frank for dirt about our relationship. But the nurse didn’t close the breakroom door and he would have seen me walking by. I couldn’t think of a good excuse for being up here, so I turned to leave. I wouldn’t have followed him at all…except he said some things that worried me.”

“Which means he was angry about the Joy and Roman story and threatened to expose you and me, right? We’ll talk about it this evening.” Zack started leading her away.

She nodded, following. “Paul was really furious that we’re allowing Joy’s good name to be smeared. As much as I hate to ask…I wonder if Freddy can find out if there’s any surveillance equipment inside your father’s suite. Just in case. I’d rather not be blindsided if Paul decides to spread gossip.”

He kissed her and promised to look into it before sending her down the stairs that led to the first floor.

It wasn’t until she’d gone that she realized she forgot to ask him why he’d been there himself.

 

* * * *

 

Mad stared down at row after row of photos displayed on the computer screen in front of him. He wasn’t sure why Sara was scanning the pictures they’d found on Joy’s laptop. Well, he understood the purpose. Maybe Joy had captured something—unwitting or not—that might help them end the Russian syndicate’s blackmail threat. But he didn’t think that was Sara’s current focus as she stared at endless pictures of Zack and Joy’s wedding.

Row after row of Zack in his tuxedo looking young and ready to take on the world, yet still oddly remote. He and Joy smiled gamely for the photographer, but Mad saw the disconnect between them, as if they’d been puppets, their strings being pulled by others.

Or maybe he thought that because he knew it was the truth.

“I remember that day well,” he murmured.

Sara started and turned on him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He set the mug of tea he’d made in front of her. “I didn’t. First, I asked if you wanted sugar. Then I cursed as I tripped over the extension cord and nearly dropped the mug. Next, I kicked the coffee table because I was frustrated that it was in my way. Baby, a bull charging through a china shop would have been more subtle.”

She sent him a sheepish glance as she picked up the mug. “Oh. I was lost in thought. I came across these pictures and couldn’t forget how I felt that day.”

He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, glancing at the image on the large monitor, one of him and Gabe. They each had a champagne glass in hand as they peered at the happy couple. “I hated that tuxedo. Uncomfortable as hell.”

“You looked nice in it.”

Mad turned to her, brow raised. “Did I?”

“All of you did,” she clarified quickly. “Why didn’t you like it?”

“It wasn’t just the penguin suit. Zack’s wedding was a big event, which would have been all right…except I didn’t feel a lot of happiness from either the bride or groom. It was more like a show than a celebration of two lovers choosing to spend their lives together. And then Roman killed what little fun we had planned. You have no idea what he threatened to do to us if we, say, tied twenty-five of the largest neon-colored dildos to the back of the getaway limo.”

She turned to him with an impish grin on her face. “Is that where those came from? Later that year, Mom asked me to go to Gabe’s old room and grab a coat or something out of his closet. When I opened the door, they all fell on me.”

Oh, Mad wished he’d seen that. “Well, we needed a place to stash those, and Gabe didn’t trust me. I have no idea why.”

He glanced back at the monitor, then took command of the mouse, scrolling up to what he liked to think of as the “before” shots. Photographers had been in both the groom’s and bride’s rooms, snapping photos of them getting ready and speaking tenderly to their friends and family. He pointed to a picture in the groom’s room with all of them sitting around, Scotch glasses in hand. Frank Hayes glowered at them all as if they were ill-bred mongrels, not yet house trained, that his son had dragged home.

“The pictures don’t show it, but Zack was miserable that day. Not because of Joy but because her parents ruled that wedding with an iron fist. He literally had no say in anything. They picked the cake, Joy’s gown, and those horrifically uncomfortable tuxedoes. The wedding planner was some distant family member who yelled a lot and harped about how important the seating arrangement was. She was one bitter woman, let me tell you. But some of her assistants were, um…nice young ladies.”

She rolled her eyes. “How many of them did you sleep with?”

His stupid mouth got him in trouble a lot. “It’s hard to remember. Hey, you weren’t exactly an angel, either. As I recall, you showed up to the wedding with that asshole you were dating who thought he was the shit because he was on that soap opera.”

Her smile turned distinctly coy. “He came to Bond Aeronautics because he had to learn how to fly for a movie he was in. But I taught him lots more that summer.”

Her challenging expression told him she was waiting to see if he was a hypocrite. Sadly for Mad, he could be a big one, at least when it came to Sara.

“Last I heard he’s now doing local furniture commercials in the Midwest. So sad for him.”

She tsked at him and turned her attention back to the screen.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m jealous. I pretty much hate every man who’s ever touched you.”

“If I had the same attitude, I’d have to hate half the women on the planet, including one of my best friends.”

Damn it, he didn’t want to fight or hash out a past they couldn’t change. “I’m not saying this the right way. The truth is, I don’t blame a single one of your former lovers for wanting you. God knows I understand how they must have felt to be with you. I only wish…” He shrugged. “I wish I could look back on my life and that I’d only known you.”

“That’s ridiculous, Mad. You started having sex when you were what? Thirteen?”

“Actually, I had just turned seventeen.”

“Impossible.”

“No, I’m serious. Gabe had been the stud of Creighton for over a year. Your brother plowed through them all—students, teachers… Pretty sure even some of our moms.”

She scowled in denial. “He did not.”

Mad quit that topic. No reason to disillusion her more. “Anyway, you probably knew my first time was with Gus. That was nice. But after that…the first girl I really wanted to be my girlfriend was a beautiful girl from our sister school. I got with her, and after we did the deed, which was over far sooner than I’d like to admit, she asked me when she could meet Zack.”

Sara gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Even then, everyone knew how important Zack would be. I’ve had more than one woman use me to get to him. But that’s not the point. I’m trying to explain that I wish I’d waited for you. And when I think about those other guys, I hate that they got to spend time with you that I didn’t.”

Something soft crossed her face, but she pressed her lips together, not saying a word.

Trying not to be disheartened, he turned back to the pictures, his gaze landing on one of Joy in her white gown, pale roses in hand as she allowed the assistants to fix her long lacy veil. It had taken three young women to get it just right.

Something was off about that picture. Mad couldn’t quite figure it out, but that image bugged him for some reason.

“You were mighty busy with all those other women.”

She was missing the point. “I would never have bothered with the vast majority of those women if you had said yes the first time I asked you out. That’s the difference.”

“I was sixteen.”

He shrugged. “I would have happily walked away from any one of them to simply hold your hand.”

She turned back to the screen, but not before he saw her expression turn thoughtful.

Mad hoped that meant something good. In the last few days, she’d proven incredibly mulish. She hadn’t softened much. Oh, she’d been perfectly fine with him working beside her, talking to her about anything at all–except their relationship. If he brought that up, she would carefully stop whatever she’d been doing, escape into the bedroom, and shut him out. He had to take some solace that she hadn’t done it this time, but he also wasn’t going to push it. He’d said what he needed to say for now.

Baby steps. That was his new plan. By the time his daughter was walking, maybe her mom would smile at him again.

Or maybe she would have found someone else without his shitty reputation who hadn’t found himself ass deep in international espionage. Someone who would have concocted some clever way to keep them all together instead of immediately jumping off the nearest ledge into chaos.

Lately, he wondered if she was right about his decisions.

He shook off the introspection and resumed looking at the pictures, his gaze straying again to the image of Joy having her veil straightened. Her father was standing to the side, with Frank.

What was off with this snapshot?

“Gabe’s wedding was far more reserved, and I think he liked it that way,” she said, reaching again for the tea he’d brought her. “He didn’t like Zack’s wedding either. He thought it was more about the press than their devotion.”

“What was it like, Gabe and Everly’s wedding?”

Her lips curled up, but the smile seemed bittersweet. “Lovely and intimate. Only a few of us were there, all close friends and family. I won’t go into details. You’d get bored.”

“No. I want to hear everything. What did she wear?”

Sara turned. “Really?”

“She’s my sister and he’s…he was my best friend. I hate that I missed it. I was supposed to be his best man. We’d never talked about it or anything because we’re guys and we don’t plan weddings in our heads, but we both knew how it would go. Roman and Zack. Dax and Connor. Me and Gabe. And I missed it. I can’t get that moment back. Those guys…they’re the only family I have left. Hell, sometimes I think they were the only family I ever had.”

She stood and lifted her mug. “All right, then. I’ll tell you the whole story. Come to the kitchen though. I’m craving soup and I think there’s some chicken noodle in the pantry. But first, you were planning on tying all those neon dildos to Zack’s limo, right?”

Not only was Sara talking, she was joking with him. Humor and something even warmer lit her eyes again. That gave him hope in a way nothing else lately had. “After Roman’s threat, I didn’t dare. But I had this great idea to do a whole confetti-swap at the reception. Remember all those sparkly hearts they dropped on Zack and Joy during their first dance and how romantic everyone said that was? I was going to replace the hearts with penis-shaped glitter.” When Sara didn’t look amused, he sighed. “I can tell you don’t think that’s funny, but sometimes subtlety is called for. Imagine everyone smiling at how pretty the reception looked and how lovely the happy couple seemed in their confetti before the crowd realized they were covered in dicks.”

Her laugh sent a wave of joy through him.

“You know, at some point I’ll throw Gabe and Ev a beautiful anniversary party because I would love to see that,” she vowed. “Now, we’ll start with the dress. Getting Everly in a decent wedding gown was not an easy task. She wasn’t remotely interested in designer. That girl is all about comfort.”

She continued talking as she returned to the monitor. Mad followed, his stare drifting back to that niggling photo.

He would figure it out eventually. For now, he just wanted to hear Sara’s story.

 

* * * *

 

From the doorway, Zack stared at the old man in his comfortable room. The hour was far later than he’d hoped, but then he’d gotten caught up in briefings about a skirmish of warring factions in the Middle East. So much war that had such far-reaching ramifications.

A butterfly flaps its wings…and oil prices go through the roof.

Sometimes he wished his father had wanted him to be an insurance salesman or something normal. Something where the fate of the freaking world didn’t rest on his shoulders.

“He had a good day,” the nurse was saying. “He always seems happier and more settled after Mr. Harding visits. These days, he seems to remember his friend better than almost anyone else.”

Maybe that wasn’t surprising since they’d been friends for decades. They’d definitely played a lot of golf together, and after the wedding, they’d been shoved together at every family function until Joy’s death. “I’m glad. Can you tell me something? Has he been wandering around a lot lately?”

“Not as much as usual,” he said. “Honestly, he’s seemed tired lately. He’s needed more medication than, say, a few weeks ago. Are you worried about him?”

No, he was trying to rationalize why Elizabeth had been in the Treaty Room shortly before they’d gone to Camp David. Yes, Gus had corroborated that Elizabeth had been told his father was wandering around upstairs, but Gus hadn’t seen Frank in the room herself. Roman kept harping that Elizabeth could be in bed with the Russians, but Zack refused to believe that she would riffle through his papers without a reason.

But admittedly, she seemed to be in this part of the house an awful lot lately.

He shook it off. He refused to think the worst of her without proof. Elizabeth wasn’t some spy, and she’d proven that today when she wouldn’t even listen in on two old men.

And if she wasn’t listening in? Roman had asked when he’d told his friend the story. What if you caught her leaving a meeting? How can you know?

He knew. His gut knew. His heart knew. He would not let Roman’s paranoia wreck his happiness.

So why couldn’t he silence that little voice whispering and poking at him?

“I was about to give him his nighttime meds,” the nurse said. “They put him to sleep fairly quickly. Do you want me to hold off? I know you don’t get much time with him.”

He heard a hint of judgment in the man’s tone, but Zack didn’t come back with any of the logical excuses he could give. Nor did he explain to the man that his father had only ever spent time training him to be perfect, to make right all the wrongs the world had done to him by not giving him the political power he sought. He could say his father had never once thrown a baseball with him but had grounded him as a second grader for not making the top reading group. In fact, his father had locked him away with tutors, denying him playmates because his son should always be the best without question.

No one wanted to hear that now. When they looked at his father, they couldn’t see the tyrant he’d been, or the unfeeling bastard who had driven his mother to the bottom of a bottle again and again. Nope, they saw a sick old man and his entitled son who ignored him.

“Yes, please. I’d like to spend a few moments with him alone.”

The nurse backed off. “Of course, Mr. President. I’ll be across the hall. Let me know when you’re done. Or call out if you need me.”

Because good old dad could be hard to handle. He used to only be abusive verbally, but the disease that had infected his mind turned him violent from time to time. “I will.”

Without looking back, he entered his father’s rooms and couldn’t help but remember how it had felt to walk into his father’s office as a child. He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever been in his father’s bedroom. His mother’s from time to time, but not often. No, he’d been left to nannies, who had taken care of his personal needs. If he’d been summoned to see his father, it had always been in his overtly masculine office. He remembered how small he’d felt going in that office, even after he’d grown taller than his father.

Now he eased into a room filled with medical equipment and a man who seemed to have shrunken in on himself. Still, Zack felt oddly apprehensive entering the man’s domain.

“Hello, Father.”

The old man looked up, his eyes showing no recognition at all. “Who are you?”

He sank down on the couch opposite his father’s lounger. Frank wore a set of royal blue pajamas that looked like they’d come straight out of the 50s. “I’m Zack. I’m your son.”

What would his father say if he’d answered a different way? If he’d said he was Sergei? Would that register with him at all?

Zack watched his father carefully, looking for any sign that suggested his father was acting. Could he manage such a feat when he took all those medications? Zack had watched him swallow the pills before. He certainly paid for them every month, just as he paid for the nurses and doctors who took care of his father.

His father shook his head. “Zachary is fourteen years old. You can’t be him. Did one of his ridiculous friends send you here? If I’d known he would fall in with that crowd, I would never have sent him to Creighton.”

Well, dear old dad never had liked his friends. They were the one thing Zack had never relented to his father about. “I remember you cursing them all and telling me I wasn’t allowed to go back there.”

His father’s head snapped up. “I enrolled you in a better school, but you were rebellious. You said if I removed you from Creighton you wouldn’t perform.”

“I told you if you enrolled me in a new school I would tank every single class I had so I couldn’t get into Yale. You locked me in my room at the start of the summer and refused to let me out. After a week, you took my books and my computer, and I wouldn’t give in. The week after that, you took the sheets off my bed. I wouldn’t give in. Then you fed me sandwiches and water twice a day until the fall term started. I still wouldn’t give in.”

It had been a long three months, but in the end, he’d gone back to Creighton and the subject of his friends hadn’t come up again. He’d drawn a line in the sand and for the first time found out that he had power, too.

He was doing the same now with Elizabeth.

“Stubborn boy. Couldn’t see what was best for you.”

“I deserved to have a personal life. They were my first real friends. I certainly wasn’t allowed to have any playmates when we lived in Russia.” He needed to ease his father into the past or his memories could go wildly askew.

A ghost of a smile crossed his father’s face. “Moscow. I didn’t want to go, but there was power there. I wanted to stay and run for office again, but my father told me to go.” He frowned suddenly, as though he’d lost his train of thought. “I was the ambassador.”

“Yes, you were. We lived in Moscow for many years.” Zack leaned forward. “Do you remember Nata?”

He used the nickname the household had used for his nanny, Natalia Kuilikov. When he closed his eyes, he could see the young woman she’d been. She’d taken care of him until he’d been sent back to the States for schooling. He preferred to remember her as young and vibrant, not as the corpse he’d seen months ago. Somewhere along the way, she’d come to America and been nearby, though he’d never known it.

“Where am I?” His father looked around, blinking as he tried to reorient.

Zack sighed. This was probably a fool’s errand, but he still felt compelled to try. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy. “You’re in the White House. Where you always wanted to be.”

Pleasure creased his face. “I ran for president.”

He had. His father had been a congressman in his younger days and had made a run at the White House after a couple of terms. He’d run out of funds just after the Iowa caucus, but he’d gotten his ambassadorship by campaigning for the man who ultimately won, and he’d settled in there, vowing all the while that his son wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

Instead, Zack had made all new ones.

“You did, but you ended up going to Russia instead.”

“Why would I go to Russia? I don’t know anyone there.” He frowned and stared at his hands.

“You went to Russia because you were the ambassador,” Zack prompted.

“My father wanted me to go to Russia. Connie wanted to go to England. But the old bastard threatened to cut off my money if I didn’t do what he said. He insisted that it was my destiny. I don’t want to go to Moscow. I don’t think good things happen there. We should stay here. Connie and I should stay in the States so I can run again. I’ll form a committee and raise money. I’ll show my father. But we shouldn’t go to Russia.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Why did Grandfather want you to go to Russia? The English post would have been far more prestigious.”

“Nasty goat demanded I go, said I’d make a name for myself. It’s cold in Moscow. Colder than here. I hated the cold, but he said it was best for me, that it would make me strong. Then the putz who won gave the English position to that other fool, and I had no choice.”

“When did you meet Nata?”

His father shook his head. “Why is she screaming? Stop that screaming now. You’re going to wake the household.”

“Who was screaming?” His heart rate ticked up. His father had never talked about their time in Moscow. Ever. Even when he’d been perfectly sane, his only comment on his stint there was that it had been productive.

His father stood and pointed at something Zack couldn’t see. “You. You bitch. What have you done? You’ve ruined everything.”

The last words were screamed at some invisible being, his father’s bile and vitriol rising to the surface. His legs were shaking and he looked in danger of falling over.

Zack stood and reached for him. “How did she ruin things? Who are you talking to?”

His father’s hands trembled and his eyes went wide as he looked at Zack. “Why did she do it? Such a stupid woman. She was the problem. I should never have married her. I should have found someone smarter, someone less emotional. She’s the reason we’re here. God, there wasn’t even any blood. It looked like a damn lifeless doll.”

“What did Mother do?” Bile rose in Zack’s throat but he forced it back down. He knew exactly what his mother thought she had done—accidentally killed a baby.

She thought she’d killed him.

“Who are you?”

The tension that had threatened to split the air only moments ago was gone in an instant. Zack felt his heart sink.

His mother had smothered a baby. Most likely, her baby. The real Zack Hayes.

The nurse rushed in, concern stretching across his face. “Mr. Hayes, you know you shouldn’t be up. You can’t stand or walk for more than a few minutes. What has you so upset?”

“Could you call for my son, young man? I need to talk to him about those boys. They’re going to get him into trouble. I can’t have it.” His father’s shoulders straightened, but his legs wobbled beneath him and he started to collapse.

The nurse eased him back into the chair. “Mr. President, he needs rest and his meds now. It’s been a long day.”

Zack couldn’t agree more. It had been a very long day.

Moments later, he emerged into the hallway. His constant shadow, Thomas, was waiting for him.

He didn’t say a word, merely walked away from his father, his parents’ sins weighing on him with every single step. He turned down the hall that led to his private residence, though nothing in his life was truly private.

Had Natalia Kuilikov given her son so no one would ever know that Zachary Hayes had died as an infant? Was that why she’d been so kind to him as a boy? Why she’d held him in her arms and rocked him to sleep, always with a smile? Because she’d been his biological mother? Was that why Constance Hayes hadn’t taken much interest in him? Hell, seemed barely able to look at him.

What the fuck did he do now?

His father’s delusions didn’t substantiate anything. That’s what he was sure Roman would say.

But the Russians must have proof if they were coming after him. He should call Roman and Connor and tell them everything he knew. They had to find a way to do a DNA test. There had to be some distant cousin or relative they could exhume. Something.

“Good night, Mr. President,” Thomas said. “I think you’ll find Ms. Matthews has also retired for the evening.”

Elizabeth.

He wouldn’t call Roman or anyone else tonight. That could wait. Everything he needed was behind that door.

He walked through, pulling at his tie and tossing it aside, along with his jacket. He would burn off all of his anxiety and pent-up stress in her gorgeous body. He would throw her on the bed and not let her up until morning. Then he could start again tomorrow with a clear head.

Zack prowled through the residence, a hungry lion scenting his prey, but when he reached the bedroom, he froze.

Elizabeth was sitting up against the headboard, reading a book, her blonde hair piled on her head. She looked soft and sweet all tucked in right where she should be.

The need to brand himself on her faded as another need took its place.

She looked his way and her eyes lit up. “Hey. I was worried you were going to be at it all night. Is everything okay? Well, as okay as it’s going to be, given that we’re talking about the Middle East.”

“Everything is perfectly normal—all fucked up,” he quipped as he reached her side at the edge of the mattress.

She scrambled to her knees, her hands on his shoulders as she searched his face. “What’s wrong?”

He pressed his forehead to hers and anchored his hands to her waist, breathing in her scent. This was what he needed, to be here alone with her. “What would you say if I wasn’t Zack Hayes?”

She gasped and pulled back enough to cup his face in her palms and stare into his eyes as though she willed him to believe her. “I would say I love you.”

“I love you, Elizabeth.”

She smiled. “I love you, no matter who you are. No matter what comes next.”

“If I step down?” It might be the easiest way to circumvent whatever the Russians had planned, though it felt easy and he worried that might be giving the syndicate exactly what they wanted.

“Then we can go to Paris,” she whispered. “Like we planned.”

He kissed her softly. This wasn’t about burning stress and anger off. This was about building something new. It was about stepping out of the shadow of the past and forging a new future.

Zack lowered her to the bed and started the best part of his day.