I don’t want her on my ranch for a million reasons, starting with, she’s a pain in the ass. She’s spoiled and does what she wants. She’ll be in my way, underfoot, likely spouting off with her smart mouth. I like quiet and orderly.
Did I mention she’s a pain in the ass?
“I’m not asking,” Madam President adds, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll be well compensated, Gideon. I’m going to be candid and saythat you’re the only person on this planet that I trust with my daughter’s life right now. I don’t trust anyone else.”
Well, fuck.
“Looks like your daughter’s going on a trip.”
She doesn’t smile. Her eyes, so much like Lena’s, are sharp, but I also see fear there. “Thank you. She’s in her old bedroom now. She knows she’s going somewhere, but I haven’t told her where. I wanted to get you here and debrief you first. You’ll leave in the next thirty minutes, so go on up. She’s packed.”
Why is she speaking about Lena as if she’s a child?She’s not. She’s a twenty-four-year-old woman.
But I’ll never question the president of the United States. That’s way above my pay grade.
With a nod, I walk out of Bishop’s office, into the private residence, and up the stairs that lead to the bedrooms.
Lena’s is the last room on the right.
I rap my knuckles on the door twice, and she calls out, “Come in.”
I haven’t seen her in four years. I remember a twenty-year-old woman who was rebellious and feisty, despite being relatively quiet, unless she was with her troublemaker of a best friend, Chelsea. She dressed mostly in jeans and T-shirts, her raven-black hair barely hit her shoulders, and she never wore makeup.
But when I open the door, that girl is gone, replaced by a fucking gorgeous woman. She’s in black slacks and a purple silk blouse unbuttoned far enough to show off just a hint of cleavage. Her hair is long, almost to her ass, and she’s wearing just enough makeup to accentuate her lavender eyes and high cheekbones.
She’s . . .stunning.
I can picture that hair wrapped around my fist.
Those eyes shining up at me as I fuck her senseless.
This is bad. This is so motherfucking bad.
Chapter Three
Lena
It’s him.
My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I can’t move, because standing at the threshold of my old bedroom is Gideon James.
And holy Christ in a rowboat, this man is beautiful.
I always had a crush on him. I never admitted it to anyone, especially not Chelsea because she would have tormented me ruthlessly, but Gideon is sexy. He’s stupidly tall, well past six feet. Maybe six foot five? With thick dark hair and steel gray eyes that can cut you to the bone with just one look. Some might say that Gideon has blue eyes, but that’s too simple for them. His eyes change with his moods, and more often than not, they’re stormy, like gray thunderclouds.
He also used to make me so mad because he was strict and hard.
But when he smiles, which isn’t often, those gray eyes lighten up, and it’s like the sun has come out from behind a cloud, making everything bright and warm.
He’s not smiling right now. In fact, he looks ...mad.
And that’s fine because so am I. My life is being ripped out from under me.
Gideon’s jaw tightens, and then he finally speaks. “We’re leaving.”
I blink in response. “Who’swe?”
My voice sounds scratchy to my own ears.
