The pain in my chest after one of my nightmares never gets any less biting. I slump in my chair in her petrified wake and try to regulate my breathing but the memory of her frightened eyes as she bolted from the room sends my blood pressure higher and higher. My hair is dampened with sweat as I grip it in both hands and pull tightly, savouring the short, sharp pain and resultant jolt back into the present… away from the past and all the pain that goes with it. I should've fought my tiredness harder, should never have brought that shit into this office.
Panic swims with my blood.
What if she talks?
PPA's sign a non-disclosure agreement, of course, but they're an academic exercise really. If someone on the administrative staff decides to shoot their mouth off, there's really very little comeback for whatever poor son-of-a-bitch happens to be POTUS at the time. Usually, loyalty to whomever sits behind the desk in the Oval Office engenders the necessary silence… but what possible loyalty could Miss Steele feel for me now?
She must think I'm fucking insane.
Thoughts of water cooler gossip spreading like wildfire dogs me. My staff present a united and happy front to the press and the never-ending troupe of tourists that traipse through my halls but there's always been an… undercurrent. The younger ones are more receptive towards me, but the older, grizzled ones think I'm not fit for office and are loath to report to the man twenty to thirty years their junior with the reformist ideals and liberal views they despise. Some do not like me, some even hate me… many would love nothing more than to see me fall from on high.
Whispers of mental instability would be just the beginning.
I need air.
I stand and cross to the windows, throwing them open and drinking in the early morning air. Taylor will have a shit fit but right now, I don't care about security. I frequently plod along with drill after drill of my security detail all the while imagining the look on their faces if I were to tell them that sometimes… when I'm having one of my dark days… a sharp shooter sending a bullet through my brain would be the greatest, sweetest gift. But then I remind myself that I'm an atheist…
And she won't be there waiting for me.
The building is stirring to life outside my door. The first troupe of tourists will be in soon, the administrative staff are in their usual frenzy. Phones are beginning to shrill and printers beginning to churn. Another day in paradise. The all too familiar suffocating sensation starts up, the biting compression on my chest. My presidency is like being trapped at the bottom of the deepest, darkest well. I can get out, because there are foot holes bored into the rocky sides of the shaft. But those foot holes represent the damage I will do unto those I've sworn to protect and the higher I climb to escape… the harder I try to save myself…
The harsher the hurt I inflict on the innocent.
I withdraw my head at the knock on the door. With one smooth down of my tie and a quick hand through my hair, I'm in control again. In terms of appearance, anyway. Sweeney strides through at my command, with three unknown persons trailing nervously behind her. One female, two males. The girl is young, late twenties or very early thirties. The guys are a little older, one white and one black. Both have the aura of an affluent upbringing about them, both are very comfortable in their skin. I assess all three of them quickly and turn a quizzical eye to the foreboding Sweeney.
"Yes?"
"President Grey, these are the three new PPA's you were briefed about by Taylor."
She waves a hand towards the girl.
"This is Dana Drews."
Another hand towards the guys.
"And this is Trent Adams and Malcolm Payne. I believe you have already met the last of our new hires, Anastasia Steele. I'm afraid she appears to be feeling a little unwell at the moment, so I told her to get some water and she could catch up with us shortly. I trust that's in order?"
My stomach churns as I nod curtly, murmuring a hollow welcome to the brimming with enthusiasm millennials in front of me. Miss Steele isn't feeling unwell, she's feeling frightened… frightened of me. I have to find her, I have to contain her. No one here knows about the cracks in my persona, I keep that shit sealed tighter than tight. But even I can't control what I do in my sleep. She cannot be allowed to talk, to sow the seed of doubt in my capabilities, my stability. Not now… not with what's coming down the line, the decisions I have to make.
Russian relations require my full and unfettered concentration.
I dismiss Sweeney and her slightly crestfallen trio. No doubt they thought their first meeting with me would be inspirational. She herds them out with her usual brusque manner. I give them thirty seconds to clear the corridor and stride across my office and rip the door open. The PPA's office is close to mine. She must be in there if she's not with the pack. Glancing around, I thank fuck no one is loitering to see me hesitate.
I make it a personal rule not to hesitate.
She jerks when I open the door, but she recovers quickly. Sitting behind her desk with a bottle of water in her hands, she doesn't look unwell, but she does look unnerved. Clearing my throat, I snap the door quietly shut and hope she's somewhat malleable. If she's not, then I have one hell of a problem. I've built my entire career and reputation on the foundation of my rock-hard dependability and stability.
Crying out in one's sleep doesn't gel with that image.
And in this game, image is everything.
It's how you survive.
"President Grey," she says quietly, rising instinctively out of the respect for this office that I can tell has been ingrained in her from a child. She was probably raised in a pro-military, pro-government household with one or both parents either serving in uniform or in and around the hill. "I uhh… is there something you need? I can get…"
She trails off, looking as though she wished the ground would swallow her whole.
"No, I don't need anything," I answer quietly, motioning for her to take a seat as I cross the thickly carpeted room and sit slowly down in the desk chair parallel to hers so that when she uncomfortably sits, we're at eye level. A prickly silence fills the room as she looks from me to the windows, to the roof and back to me clearly torn between breaking the stalemate and allowing it to go on forever.
I'm the tiebreaker and suddenly, I have my speech carefully planned.
"Miss Steele, I must apologize profusely for my behaviour this morning. I'm afraid you caught me at a bad time. I'm recovering from a particularly bad infection and the antibiotics I've been taking clearly don't agree with me in the least. I was half asleep when I spoke so inappropriately to you and I do hope that you'll accept my sincere apologies and understand the need for this morning's misunderstanding to remain between us?"
I manage something akin to a smile.
"I assure you, I'm not usually such a nightmare to work for."
She looks at me out of those oceanic eyes and I know she doesn't believe a single word of it. Here is a girl who is not easy to fool and knows when she's being duped. Panic kicks up inside me again and I swallow it down like a white-hot poker. The cogs are whirring quickly in her mind, she's trying to decide how to play this… weighing her options.
Her choice tells me that she's built for the hill.
"Of course, President Grey," she smiles brightly, lies confidently. "It's quite normal for some antibiotics to have unpleasant side effects. I'd love if we could just put this behind us and start the day again with a fresh slate?"
I extend a hand in lieu of an actual olive branch.
She doesn't hesitate to grasp it in a firm shake and I rise.
"Thank you for your understanding, Miss Steele. I am sure I'll be seeing you around today, I hope your first real day goes smoothly. The other PPA's should be back shortly."
She smiles a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and I walk quickly from the room, unsure as to the reason for the unsettled sensation in my stomach. By the time I'm back behind my own desk, I have identified the cause and it's not one that I'm comfortable with. It's because despite her assurances, she saw right through me and my shit.
No one ever sees right through me.
Or my shit, for that matter.
But I can't dwell on this mess any longer. For better or worse, I have a full day of presidential duties before me and as Taylor knocks and sidles into the room with Sawyer and Ryan in tow, I have no choice but to put my shameful display and the discerning Miss Steele right out of my mind and focus on the task at hand.
I cannot focus on the task at hand.
President Grey is completely and utterly full of shit, that much I'm sure of. He's not recovering from some alien virus, suffering concurrently from some hallucinogenic antibiotic. He's damaged. He's damaged so deeply that he doesn't know how he's going to get from one day to the next. I've seen that kind of damage before… seen what it can do.
Cried over the premature coffin it almost inevitably leads to.
Sitting back in my chair, I fiddle with the bottle of water in my hands. The one that the business like but essentially kind, Sweeney, pushed into my hands after mistaking my shock for sickness. Having to feign illness on my first real day at work isn't how I saw this week opening. I need to bounce back, I don't want Sweeney thinking that I'm the runt of the new PPA litter. The door, as if on cue, creaks open and a chattering Drews, Adams and Payne stroll in.
The two guys give me a sympathetic smile and retreat to their desks.
Drews however, the very blonde and outrageously pretty Drews, advances.
Her scarlet red nails rest on my desk as she leans over it, an unmistakably fake smile plastered across her face.
"Hey, Anastasia, are you feeling better?"
There is no real note of concern in her voice.
"Sure," I say cautiously, "Much better. Thank you."
She nods and glances over at Adams and Payne. Both are clacking away at their keyboards and pay neither of us a blind bit of notice. Her voice lowers, and the tapping of their keys completely masks it from their ears.
"I saw President Grey leaving this office as we were walking up the hall," she says lightly. "I guess that's one upside of taking suddenly ill, huh? A little one-on-one time with the POTUS? The shockingly handsome and notably single, POTUS? Did you guys get to talking about anything interesting?"
Her tone hardens, and I feel my hackles rising.
But my face stretches into a pleasant grin as I gaze blankly up at her.
"Not particularly, no," I lie cheerfully, "He was just looking for Sweeney, said he needed her for something…"
Her green eyes take on a nasty tinge of malevolence.
"I don't believe that, Anastasia," she croons in a weird sing-song voice that I can immediately tell is ingrained in many a teenage victim of her bullying campaigns mind. "Because we were just with President Grey before he came in here. Five minutes tops. If he wanted Sweeney, why not say so when she was in the room and right in front of him, hmm?"
God, she's got it bad.
Her tightly fitting pencil skirt and slightly too revealing blouse says it all.
Somehow, I don't think she's President Grey's type.
I don't think anyone is his type… not anymore, anyway.
"I don't know," I say evenly, "Why don't you ask him if you're curious, Dana?"
She smiles with very white, very even teeth and withdraws. Flicking her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder, she grins down at me and changes tack faster than the speed of light.
"Oh, I'm such a ditz," she giggles, "My mom always says that I need to mind my own business, but what's a girl to do when we have to work in such close proximity to that beautiful creature? It's enough to drive anyone crazy, huh? Us girls will have to stick together, Anastasia, and make sure that our minds are strictly on the job. Neither of us want to go and get a reputation for chasing the boss now, do we?"
She smiles a warning smile and pats my hand with her smooth palm, before sauntering over to her own desk in a cloud of perfume and manipulation. Massaging my temples, I take in a deep breath and supress a groan. So far... I've managed to set President Grey off on some sort of psycho trip, given Sweeney the impression that I'm a delicate little flower and attracted the adverse attention of Dana the preying mantis Drews over there.
Fuck my life.
What a first day.
But I take comfort that at the very least, nothing else can go wrong. Silence spreads throughout the office as everyone settles down at their desks, reading their introductory packs until needed or called upon. I've been reading the same page of mine since I sat down and pull the booklet towards me again, wanting nothing more than to get lost in work and reset the day in a positive manner. An hour passes and I'm making steady progress when Sweeney pops her head around the door.
"Anastasia? President Grey is requesting you, lets go."
I jump to my feet, eager to dispel Sweeney of her image of me.
But Dana's voice halts my gait.
"Sweeney? May I be of assistance, also? I'm nearly finished with my reading."
She smiles a winning smile and I know now that she was head cheerleader, homecoming queen and president of every sorority her tight little tushie ever belonged to. This woman is a Marylin, trying to turn herself into a Jackie by ensnaring the attentions of a higher class of man.
I cringe for her.
She and her ilk are one of the reasons women don't get enough workplace respect.
"No, Drews," Sweeney rejects bluntly, "It's Steele who has been requested."
Her smiles falters and she shoots me a subtle look of death.
"Oh, ok!" she chirps, "Perhaps I can be of assistance next time?"
Sweeney glares impatiently.
"I don't think so, Drews. Come on, Anastasia… President Grey does not like to be kept waiting and I really don't need a bollocking at this early hour. Make haste, make haste."
I get to the door before Dana strikes again.
"May I ask why not?"
Man, this bitch is brazen.
Sweeney turns to me but addresses her in a voice that betrays her own confusion.
"Because, Drews, President Grey has elected to take a more hands-on role with one PPA with this intake. You, Adams and Payne will still be assisting of course but in a more indirect manner."
I see her turn puce as I feel my knees uncharacteristically buckle.
"What?" she practically screeches. "What… what does that mean?"
Sweeney sighs and holds the door open pointedly for me.
"It means that Anastasia is now President Grey's one and only PPA with direct access."
She holds the door open a little wider and holds up a hand to silence Dana.
"Can it, Drews. There's nothing I can do…"
Her eyes trail to mine and questions are ingrained in her irises as she speaks softly.
"President Grey has asked for her, specifically, from now on."
She tilts her head slightly.
"Her and only her."
…..
A/N: I'm not sure that my PM's worked properly when I sent out last weeks teasers. Some people seem to have gotten them and some people haven't. In any event, the PM system seems fine now so if you'd like a teaser for the next update, just leave a request in a review and I'll PM you soon! If you're a guest, I can't PM you!
Today's recommendation is For the Love of Joey by Bluesky5678. This is a completed fic, a long one at that, and is a tearjerker! I thoroughly, thoroughly recommend it! I have to reread it myself soon to really appreciate it, it's that good!
Inks x
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