He wants me and only me?
I feel my sphincter grind into panic response as I quite literally resist the urge to unequivocally shit myself. What does he mean he wants me and only me? This cannot be normal presidential behavior. Has this man, this President of ours, been a closeted maniac since the day he took office and we as a nation have been blind to it? Blinkered by his strong jaw and his All-American boy next door bullshit? I feel eyes from all angles boring into my soul and my mouth dries to the most dried up parchment of the most dated, dusty tomb. Dana's eyes are narrowed to serpentine slits as I stand there with no doubt a gawping expression on my face.
Sweeney smiles almost kindly at me, but there's a hint of impatience in her irises.
"Anastasia? Please, do hurry. It is abnormal to keep POTUS waiting."
It's abnormal to keep him waiting?! I want to scream that he is the abnormality. That he is not what he seems to be. That I do not want to be shackled to his side like some sort of perverse lap dog. But I don't. I don't say that. I don't say anything. I merely walk slowly across the room and wish with all my heart that I was at home with my nose in a classic, a cup of tea in my hand and not a care in the world. Maybe a comforting blanket or two. Sweeney is a hurricane of efficiency as she breezes down the corridor in front me, speaking so fast she's giving me a nasty bout of motion sickness.
"Sweeney?"
Even to me, my voice is pathetic. She stops mid gait with an exasperated expression on her face. She had just been in the middle of a detailed explanation of how President Grey likes his newspapers ordered. We're nearly back at the Oval Office and I baulk at the thoughts of what lays beyond the grandiose door in front of me.
"I don''t think I can do this. Be President Grey's... um, be President Grey's..."
Who the hell in my position turns something like this down? What is the matter with me? I expect Sweeney to ask these very reasonable questions but instead she drops her terrifying efficiency and shoots me a pleasantly gentle smile.
"Listen, Anastasia. There are some things you learn very quickly in this place. The first thing I learned since President Grey took office is that he is the shrewdest judge of character I have ever encountered in my life. If he's chosen you for this role, it's because he thinks you can indeed handle it and are suitable for the role. The man doesn't suffer fools gladly, or at all really. So, the fact that you're standing where you're standing tells me that yes, yes you can do this. And you will do this, you simply must do this. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Anastasia. I'm sure you didn't miss the death stares some of your colleagues were shooting you. There's a reason for that and there's also a reason they're the ones giving those looks and you're the one receiving them. Know what I mean?"
I decidedly do not know what she means.
I know no such thing.
I know no such thing.
We're moving again. My legs are seemingly independent of my brain and before I know what day it is, we're back in the Oval after a sharp rap on the door and a murmured enter. I feel those orb like eyes on me before I see them and wince at the sharp pit of dread that roars in my stomach. This man... he gives me the creeps. The creepiest of creeps. There are no words to describe the ominous sensation I experience by just being in his presence. I can tell with one look at his intense face that he doesn't buy my phony acceptance of his bullshit explanation from before.
Who the hell would?
Dana.
Dana probably would.
He's studying me as he rises from behind his iconic desk. Eying me up, assessing me the way a boa constrictor measures its prey. I feel my chin rise defiantly as I stare back at him, a respectful distance away and deliberately to Sweeney's right. I will not let him know how much he affects me. He will never know how disturbing i find him. I am here to do a job and as I force a pocketful of air into my quivering lungs, I realize something.
Sweeney was right.
I can do this.
He's a madman. I've dealt with madmen before. I've dealt with madmen who didn't know or couldn't accept they were madmen before. Why should this be any different? It's all about the front. I throw my shoulders back, careful not to thrust out my chest, and paint a confident but discreet smile on my face.
Fake it till you make it, sister.
His head is tilted as he comes to a halt in front of us, like a dog deciding which bone is the meatiest. Which one he's going to take, with it without permission from the owner. Sweeney glances over her shoulder with a slight look of confusion on her face and I realize he's freaking her out too, in this moment. But then like the sunrise, the odd clouds are swept from his face and he visibly loosens where he stands.
"Miss Steele. I trust Sweeney has informed you of your modified assignment and that you are in agreement?"
It's phrased as a question, phrased in a way that's supposed to tell me I can say no, if I wan't. I can tell him to stick his job, hightail it and never look back. But that's not what he means. There is no choice here. I see it in his eyes. I see it in the way he stands, strong and determined... and dangerous. This is a man who has never taken no for an answer in his entire life, and he's not about to start now.
I nod brightly.
"Of course, President Grey. It's an honor."
For a moment, I could have sworn I saw something of a smirk cross his face as he nods sharply, turning to Sweeney.
"Give Miss Steele and I a moment please?"
Again.
There it is again. And order dressed up in a polite question. He knows how to play the game, knows how to make his people feel they're working together when really he's the chess master and they... we, are all his pawns. She nods pleasantly but with a discernible air of confusion and leaves the room as softly as a mouse. He slowly makes his way back around his desk and settles behind it once more as I stand ramrod straight in front of it, hands folded neatly behind my back.
A pawn waiting to be used.
"Miss Steele?"
His voice is different now. Silky, with a hint of venom.
"Sir?"
"I will expect a lot from you, from hereon in. I demand total and unfettered loyalty, I will extract complete and utter obedience and I will not tolerate anything less, in any circumstance, under any condition. Do you understand that?"
I swallow hard.
"Yes, I do."
There's a glint in his eyes as he nods thoughtfully, slowly.
"You're not going to give me any trouble, are you?"
Jesus Christ.
"No," I hear myself snap, despite myself. "I assure you, I am a professional above all else, President Grey."
"Above all else..." he repeats, surprise coloring his tone. "That's an interesting turn of phrase."
He turns his head towards his computer.
"Get out."
I blink, surprise coursing through me, this emotional rollercoaster beating the ever living shit out of me.
"Sir?"
He doesn't even look up.
"You're going to have to learn to follow my orders without question, Miss Steele. Without question and at all times. You and I are going to be quite the team... so you best learn the rules of the game as quickly as you can, because I'm here to win. Now get out."
As the door closes behind me for the second time of the day, I let out a slow hissing breath.
What the hell have I let myself in for?
...
A/N: Trying to find time to write is IMPOSSIBLE. Belted this out on the train home. Be patient with me, please x
Inks x
