One Night With The President

The living room fell into a suffocating silence. Eloisa stared at the frozen frame of the video on the tablet. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked breaths.

Eleonora Wilkinson glanced at the antique grandfather clock standing against the wall. She was calculating the seconds.

"It seems," Eleonora said smoothly, "you need to see it with your own eyes."

Eloisa looked up, her vision blurred with unshed tears. "See what?"

Heavy, measured footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the foyer.

Eloisa's heart kicked against her ribs. She turned her head toward the arched doorway.

A man walked into the room.

He was tall, with broad shoulders encased in a flawless, dark navy suit. He reached up with one hand and unbuttoned his suit jacket as he walked. The movement was fluid and elegant, but the aura radiating off him was freezing cold.

Eloisa stopped breathing.

She knew that face. Everyone in America knew that face. She saw it on the news channels playing in the campus coffee shop. She saw it on billboards lining the highway.

Senator Hilbert Wilkinson.

He was the youngest senator in the country. The golden boy of the Wilkinson political dynasty. And he was currently running for President of the United States.

Eloisa's pupils dilated. Her fingers dug into the velvet sofa.

It was him.

The blurry memory of the deep, dark eyes snapped into perfect focus. In the fragmented, drunken memory, his eyes had seemed dark, almost black. But here, in the cold, clear light of the mansion, she saw they weren't black at all. They were the color of slate-gray, like a stormy sky just before it breaks. They were the exact same eyes that stared out from the television screens. Cool, calculated, and entirely untouchable.

Hilbert walked past Eloisa without even glancing at her. He looked at the elderly woman.

"Grandmother," he said, giving a slight nod.

Then, he turned his head. For the first time, his slate-gray eyes landed on Eloisa.

He didn't look at her like she was a human being. He looked at her the way a mechanic looks at a broken engine. He was assessing the damage. There was absolutely zero emotion in his gaze.

Eloisa felt completely naked under his stare. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, trying to make herself smaller.

Hilbert spoke. His voice was deeper than it sounded on television. It was a low, gravelly baritone that sent a shiver down her spine.

"So. This is her."

The words were an ice pick to Eloisa's chest. This is her. She wasn't a person. She was a problem. A variable in an equation.

Eleonora tapped her wooden cane against the floor. "Hilbert, sit down. Now that everyone is present, we will discuss the solution."

Hilbert sat on the sofa opposite Eloisa. He crossed his long legs. He looked entirely relaxed, yet his presence filled the room with an unbearable pressure.

"My solution is simple," Eleonora announced. "The two of you will go to City Hall and register your marriage today."

Eloisa shot to her feet. "What? No! Absolutely not! You can't force me to do that!"

Hilbert didn't even look at her. He kept his eyes on his grandmother. He adjusted his pristine white shirt cuff.

"Grandmother, this is entirely premature," Hilbert said, his tone flat. "There are much simpler ways to handle this situation."

Handle this situation.

Eloisa felt a wave of nausea hit her again. Did he mean paying her off? Or did he mean getting rid of the baby?

Eleonora struck the floor with her cane again. The sharp crack made Eloisa flinch.

"Simpler ways?" Eleonora snapped. "Like writing her a check and praying she disappears? And then waiting for the media to discover that the leading presidential candidate has a bastard child hidden in the slums?"

Eleonora pointed a shaking finger at Hilbert. "This is the first heir of the Wilkinson family. He will not be born a bastard."

Eleonora turned her sharp gaze to Eloisa. "And you, Miss Williams. Do you truly believe a single mother, working at a coffee shop, can provide a safe life for a child with Wilkinson blood? The press will tear you to pieces."

The words hit Eloisa like concrete blocks. She imagined the paparazzi. She imagined the cameras shoved in her face. She imagined her parents being harassed.

The room spun. She fell back onto the sofa.

Hilbert remained silent. His jaw clenched tight. He knew his grandmother was right. A scandal of this magnitude, right before the primaries, would destroy his political career instantly.

Eleonora delivered the final blow. Her voice left no room for negotiation.

"This is not a debate. The decision is made." She looked at the butler. "Pembroke, call City Hall. Tell the judge to prepare the paperwork."