The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Ten

                                
  I wake up blindfolded with an excruciating headache. I try to move, but I am chained to the floor of whatever vehicle I'm in now. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? "James! James are you there?"

"Your little body guard is receiving medical treatment." A guy with a Russian accent says. "After what you did to his foot. I gotta say- I don't know how he managed to run up three flights of stairs like that."

"He's always been like that. He doesn't know when to stop- I really should've put a bullet between his eyes."

"It would've been worse for you if you did. You know too much now. But let me show you this-" he removes my blindfold and shows me a screen. On it, there's my thirteen  year old sister, sitting comfortably in her room. "If, by some miracle, they decide to let you out after all of this- after everything you know now, you better not talk. This is so much bigger than you think. And if you say anything, well- bang bang."

"What...what should I call you?" I say.

"You can't be fucking serious right now-"

"Would you rather me call you 'the guy with the Russian accent'? Cause that sounds a little racist."

"Fine-" he sighs. "Adrian." Unlike the others, Adrian and James are the only ones that haven't worn face masks.

"Well, Adrian, you've underestimated me."

"No, Ms.Wells. You've underestimated us."

——-3 years ago——-

The scars from the surgery almost blend in with my stretch marks. Almost. I somehow manage to rip my stitches every couple of weeks, setting my recovery back every time. I still get pains on my lower left side when I move the wrong way, so I've been laying low the past couple of months- but Kyle's inauguration is tomorrow.

  Tomorrow, he will officially become the forty- sixth president of the United States. Now, regardless of how the presidency goes, we will be in danger for the rest of our lives. We will always need security- my family will always have to be on high alert. We won't be able to go anywhere without letting somebody know first- vacations will be few and far between. I have say, ten years left before a pregnancy becomes nearly impossible- if we manage to conceive, our child will have their own security detail for the rest of their lives too. We knew what we were getting into, though. It just comes with the job. The incumbent openly threatening our lives probably didn't help.

  This is probably the last day he'll get a full night of sleep for eight years, so I let him sleep, but I lay wide awake. Regardless of the fights we've had recently from minor disagreements, he is still, undoubtedly, the same guy I married at eighteen years old.  The same guy who has always fought for every single person equally, regardless of wether or not they voted for him. The incumbent isn't even showing up to his inauguration, breaking a three hundred year old tradition of a peaceful transfer of power. What an asshole.

  Around five in the morning, his alarm goes off, and he almost immediately jumps out of bed with an unnatural amount of energy for somebody who just woke up. "Good morning, Mr. president." I smile.

  "Good morning, Madam First Lady." He leans down to kiss me, and I pull him back onto the bed.

  "We have like, five hours until we have to leave." I smirk.

"Technically I have three but-"

"Oh, shut up." Our lips crash together, his hand on the back of my neck. I push myself upwards, to where I am on top. His hands travel up my shirt, sending a shiver down my back as I fumble with the hem of his sweatpants.

"Hey Lauren, I laid out three-" My stylist, Kendra, walks in and immediately walks out. "I laid out three choices in the upstairs closet."  She says from the hallway.

  "Perfect timing." I chuckle. "Welp, guess we're gonna have to get used to that."

  "Guess so- if Kendra's  already here your new security team'll be here soon too." He sighs. "I love you."

  "I love you too." I get up, following Kendra to the closet. Being married to a high- profile senator does have its benefits, I sure as hell wouldn't be able to afford this wardrobe on a retired FBI agent's salary. My first option is a white silk blouse and black pencil skirt. Meh. The second is a blue jumpsuit and black blazer- bingo. I sit still as Kendra takes care of my hair and makeup, and then spin around to face her. "Do you wanna... come work at the White House?" I ask.

"I'd be honored. Where else would I go?" She shrugs.

  "Kendra. Come on, you've been off lately. What's wrong?"

  She looks away, trying to hide any emotion. "My mother is dying. She's asked me to help her... kill herself."

  "Is she in pain?" Kendra can only nod. "Then let her go." She opens her mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a knock at the door.

  "I'll think about it. " she says. "I just need a couple of months."

  "Then take them- however long you need." I reply. On her way out, she bumps shoulders with my new head of security.

  "Hello, ma'm. My name's James."

———-

  Adrian pulls the blindfold back down over my eyes, removes the chains with a gun to my head, and forces me to walk. He wouldn't really shoot me, would he? He yanks the blindfold back off, and just seconds later, the cell door closes. This place looks like a proper jail. Multiple guards at every possible exit point. Fuck.

  Across the hallway, there's another woman, just a couple years younger than me- what's odd is that her cell is nicer, looking very similar to a guest room in the residence. "Hey!" I whisper yell,and she raises an eyebrow. "What the hell.. why?"

  "I am a long term resident, Madam First Lady. Whether or not I get out depends on you, actually."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You've met James, haven't you?"I nod. "Yeah, well, I'm his blackmail."