“I found out who leaked the photos from the birthday party and paid him a little visit.”

  “Not by yourself, I hope.” He was forever concerned about her safety, and with good reason after the crazy shit that regularly happened to her on the job.

  “Of course not. I had Freddie with me. The guy lives in a McMansion in Spring Valley with thirty-foot ceilings and a doorbell that sounds like the Boston Pops on the Fourth of July. I put him on notice that we’ll be fully enforcing the NDA and filing a big fat lawsuit against him.”

  “What’d he say to that?”

  “He denies it was him, but he’s lying. He broke out in a sweat when I told him I knew it was him.”

  “That’s my love. Making men sweat on a daily basis.”

  “It’s one of my superpowers. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I’m going to call Andy and ask him to file a lawsuit against him ASAP.”

  “Go for it.”

  “It’s apt to make the news.” She hated to worry about such things, but she didn’t want to cause any more grief for him than he already had to deal with as president. His opponents had been relentless, calling him the “reluctant president” because of his announcement that he wouldn’t be running for the Democratic nomination in the next election—days before President Nelson’s untimely death elevated Nick to the top job.

  “I hope it does so other people we cross paths with in the next three years will know we take our privacy and that of our family quite seriously.”

  “It’s very sexy when you go into protector mode.”

  “I’d say the same about you, and by the way, we’re probably giving the people at the NSA something to talk about.”

  “Wait! Are they listening to us?”

  He laughed so hard, he went silent.

  “Nick! This isn’t funny!”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, wheezing from laughter. “No one is listening.”

  “You’ll pay for that later.”

  “I’ll look forward to that. By the way, you were great on the Today show. We’re getting bombed with calls and emails and comments on the social media posts about your appearance. People think the idea for the grief group for victims of violent crime is fantastic.”

  “That’s good. Doesn’t bring our people back, but it helps to know we’re not alone.” The loss of her father was still a raw wound two months after he succumbed to injuries sustained in an on-the-job shooting almost four years ago.

  “You, my love, are never alone.”

  “That helps. I’ll see you at home?”

  “I’ll be here. Feels like I never leave these days.”

  Sam vowed to remedy that by working with Brant, his lead Secret Service agent, to plan a date night soon. “We’ll have to do something about that, but for now, I need to get back to it.”

  “Be careful out there, love. You’re my everything.”

  “I’m always careful. Later.”

  She ended the call, smiling the way she always did when she got to talk to him during her workday.

  Digging through her contacts on the flip phone, she found the number for their attorney friend Andy Simone.

  “Mr. Simone’s office.”

  “Hi, this is Sam Cappuano calling for Mr. Simone. Is he free?” For a full ten seconds, there was dead silence. “Hello?”

  “Yes, of course, Mrs. Cappuano. I’ll put you right through to him, and if I may say, I just love you and your husband.”

  In the background, Sam heard Andy say, “Put the call through, Janice.”

  “Sorry,” Janice said.

  Sam held back laughter. “Thank you for your support, Janice.”

  “Please hold for Mr. Simone.”

  “Sorry about that, Sam,” Andy said when he came on the line. “She’s got a bad case of starstruck-itis.”

  “It’s going around lately. Believe it or not, that very thing happens several times a day.”

  “I believe it,” Andy said. “How’re things at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?”

  “Not bad, all things considering. The butlers make for easy living, and the kids love the extras, like the pool and the movie theater.”

  “I’m glad you’re settling in. If you’re calling about the custody situation, I’m still waiting to hear back from the grandparents’ attorney. I sent him the documentation proving Elijah is the guardian his parents appointed. I suspect they’re trying to find a way around that, but there isn’t one.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “It’s not over yet, but I feel good about where we are.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that, but that wasn’t the reason for my call. I wanted to tell you I’ve figured out who leaked the photos of Nick at the twins’ birthday party, and we’re interested in suing him for the breach of the NDA. We feel like we need to send a message to people on the periphery of our lives that we’ll stridently protect our privacy in this crazy new situation we’re in.”

  “I’ve already got something drafted because I figured you’d find out who it was. I’ll take care of that for you today. What kind of damages are you thinking?”

  “The guy is loaded, so we want to make it hurt.”

  “So, a million?”

  “That’d work.”

  “It’ll cost him a bundle to defend against the suit, too.”

  “Good. I want it to really hurt.”

  “Oh, it will. Not to mention the publicity it’ll generate. What do you have in the way of proof?”

  “Apparently, it’s somewhat common knowledge among the parents that he was the one who did it, and I’ve got a friend in IT working on connecting the leak to his IP address.”

  “If we have that, we won’t need the parents.”

  “Good, because I don’t think they’d want to be involved.”

  Sam gave him the man’s name and address. “His son Sebastian is in school with the twins.”

  “How do you feel about a potential suit causing trouble for the kids at school?”

  “You think that’d happen in kindergarten?”

  “I think it’s possible at all ages.”

  “Huh, well, Nick and I feel strongly that we need to send this message so we won’t be dealing with this crap the whole time he’s in office. We can explain to the kids what’s happening so they’re prepared if Sebastian says anything.”

  “All right, sounds good. Send me a copy of the NDA he signed and the IT evidence when you have it.”

  “Will do. Thanks for taking care of all this crap for us, Andy.”

  “Are you kidding? Having you guys as clients is great for business, not to mention my ego.”

  Sam laughed. “Glad to help boost both those things.”

  “Elsa is so excited about the Christmas Eve party, I think she may spontaneously combust.”

  “We’re looking forward to it.”

  “I call the Lincoln Bedroom.”

  “Nick suggested we do some sort of game to determine who gets that room.”

  “That’d be fun—and funny.”

  “We figure we need to enjoy the hell out of the place if we’re required to live there.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Will be in touch on all things.”

  “Thanks, Andy.”

  Sam felt better knowing they were doing something to deal with the egregious violation of their privacy from the twins’ birthday party. The opposition media was still going on about Nick having the time to attend a party while the secretary of State was being detained in Iran. He’d taken an hour to run home to see the kids between meetings, but no one wanted to hear that. Apparently, he was expected to work twenty-four hours a day while president or else.

  Before he’d become president, they’d had a couple of “close calls,” with the Nelson administration twice engulfed in scandals serious enough that Nick was put on notice that he needed to be ready should the president be forced to resign. The endless scrutiny was the part Sam had feared the most, and it had started almost right away with the media and Nick’s detractors picking apart everything he said and did.

  Firing the secretary of State had caused another uproar, especially when the sacked secretary went on TV to vent his outrage at the “young, inexperienced” president who’d shown him the door after getting more information about what’d really happened in Iran. Nick needed to be surrounded by people he could trust, and he no longer trusted Martin Ruskin after the incident in Iran.

  Over the last few weeks, Sam had done her best to stay sort of “sealed off” from the drama that surrounded the presidency and the White House, but she wanted to be there to support Nick, so she had to stay somewhat plugged in. She walked a fine line between needing to know and not wanting to know who was coming for him now.

  Her anxiety had been a challenge lately, but she did her best to keep that hidden from him because he had enough of his own anxiety to deal with. He didn’t need hers, too, especially when he struggled so horribly with insomnia.

  While stopped at a red light, she gave Nick a call to update him on what Andy had had to say about the lawsuit—and the custody battle—and was preparing her message when he surprised her by picking up again.

  “What’s up?”

  Sam filled him in on the latest from Andy on the custody situation and told him what they’d decided about the lawsuit. “The first couple suing someone for a million dollars is going to make the news.”

  “Yes, I suppose it will, but isn’t that the point?”

  “Before we do anything more, run it by your people to make sure we aren’t causing more trouble than we’re solving with this.”

  “I will, but I’m determined to send a message to this guy and anyone else who’d stab us in the back in our own home.”

  “You know I agree, but I’m not the one who’s going to have to fend off the media attention when the word gets out. You need to be prepared for that.”

  “I’m meeting with Terry, Christina and Trevor in a few minutes,” he said of his top aides. “I’ll run it by them.”

  “Sounds good. And I’m hoping the grandparents can’t find a way around Cleo and Jameson’s airtight guardianship provision for Elijah.”

  “There is no way around it. The parents have spoken and so has the guardian.”

  Sam wished she could be so certain. “I guess we’ll see.”

  “Try not to worry. We’ve got the advantage in this situation, and they know it.”

  “What? Me worry?” She pulled into the lot at HQ, which was surrounded by media trucks these days. “HQ is overrun with news trucks. Do they think I’m suddenly going to get chatty about you and your administration?”

  “Hope springs eternal.”

  Her colleagues must hate the intrusion, Sam thought, not that most of them would ever say so. A few would, but most wouldn’t even if they thought it. “Gotta go to work. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Chapter Three

  Nick ended the call with Sam and dwelled for a second on the tension he felt coming from her as they continued to adjust to the massive changes in their lives since he’d suddenly ascended to the presidency. He looked around the Oval Office, still amazed that he got to work in the most famous office on earth, that his family lived upstairs in the residence and people called him Mr. President.

  Terry knocked on the door and stuck his head in. “Are you free, Mr. President?”

  “I am,” Nick said. “Come in.” He brought his briefing book with him to the collection of chairs and sofas in the middle of the room and settled in his usual chair. When had he decided what his “usual chair” in the Oval Office was going to be? The thought amused him, as many things did in this new surreal existence.

  Terry, Trevor and Christina took seats on the sofas as one of the butlers brought in afternoon refreshments, which were one of the best perks of his new job.

  “Help yourselves, friends,” Nick said, gesturing to the tray of cookies, coffee and tea.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Terry said, taking a cookie and pouring himself a coffee.

  Nick tried to eat only one of the delicious cookies per day, and he’d already had his allotment in the morning meeting with his cabinet. “What’s on the docket?”

  “Brandon Halliwell called,” Terry said, referring to the chair of the Democratic National Committee. “He wants to discuss your choice for vice president before you announce anything. He said he has some thoughts about how Senator Sanford could be better used as the new secretary of State.”

  “She’s my top choice to be vice president.”

  “He’s aware of that and is asking you to reconsider. He and others believe she’d be better suited to the secretary of State role and that she’d be more interested in that. They want Henderson for VP.”

  Nick held back a groan. “You gotta be kidding me. After everything we went through to narrow the field, he’s throwing this at me?”

  “He is, and I have to say, sir, I tend to agree that Sanford would be a better fit for State,” Terry said.

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “Yours, sir. Always. But Sanford has deep diplomatic experience on the Foreign Relations Committee, and you do, in fact, need a new secretary of State.”

  Since he’d fired the other guy, that was. He had zero regrets about that decision, even if Ruskin was trashing him all over town. “I guess we need to bring Gretchen Henderson back in, then,” Nick said with a twinge of unease. Sam had had one of her “feelings” about Henderson, and he’d learned to take those things seriously, but with the DNC pushing for Henderson, he was running up against a strong headwind. “Who else is there besides her?”

  “You’re set on appointing a woman, right?” Christina asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’d say she’s the best you’re going to get. We’ve done the vetting on every other high-profile female in the national spotlight and we’re down to her.”

  “How’s that possible?” Nick asked.

  Christina gave him a lengthy rundown of the top female operatives, all of whom had declined to be considered for a wide variety of reasons ranging from family concerns that required their involvement to vital committee assignments or governorships that would be useful in other ways.

  “In short,” Christina concluded, “Henderson is the one the DNC wants. They like the idea of a young, dynamic pair as the face of the party going forward. Henderson has made a lot of friends with her get-out-the-vote efforts on behalf of candidates around the country. She has a ton of support at the grass-roots level.”

  Nick debated whether he should mention that Sam had gotten an unsettling vibe from Gretchen, but she’d had only a passing encounter with the woman as Sam was leaving and Gretchen was arriving. Even though he’d learned to trust his wife’s gut feelings, it’d be foolish to make a decision of this magnitude based on a thirty-second interaction. “Have her come back in for another meeting. I want to talk to her again before I decide for sure.”

  “Will do,” Christina said.

  “Speaking of Ruskin,” Trevor said, “we’re getting bombed with requests for details about why he was fired and whether it was related to what happened in Iran. We’ve got multiple networks and news outlets threatening to file Freedom of Information requests if we don’t come clean.”

  “Well, I did promise that we’d tell the people what happened once we reviewed the events in Tehran. What do you guys recommend?”

  Terry spoke up first. “I say you tell your side of the story—that he was less than forthcoming about the events in Iran, and you no longer have confidence in his abilities to represent the United States on the world stage. You could say that you need to feel you can trust the people working within your administration, and while many of your cabinet secretaries are holdovers from the Nelson administration, you value trust and loyalty above all other things. And you could add that former secretary Ruskin knows exactly why his tenure was terminated.”

  Trevor had been taking frantic notes the entire time Terry was speaking.

  “Did you get that?” Nick asked him.

  Trevor nodded.

  “Let’s release that as a statement—exactly what Terry said.” He glanced at Christina. “Do you approve?”

  “My only worry is that you’ll further infuriate Ruskin with the statement, which will add fuel to his fire.”

  “I honestly don’t care what he says about me,” Nick said. “I know the truth, and so does he. I’m comfortable with the statement. Go ahead and release it at the daily briefing, Christina.”

  Nick checked the silver TAG Heuer watch Sam had given him. He had twenty minutes until a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the secretary of Defense about some issues in the South China Sea that had been mentioned in the morning briefing documents over the last couple of days.

  The meetings never ended and ran the gamut from deadly boring to truly terrifying, with almost nothing in the middle. Not to mention the decisions he was forced to make on a daily basis—everything from sending troops into a hot spot in the Middle East to proposed cuts to programs that benefited the country’s neediest citizens to conversations with world leaders about issues such as climate change, immigration and cyberattacks.

  There was no shortage of problems, needs and ideas, but at the end of every meeting, everyone in the room looked to him because his take was the only one that mattered.

  If he allowed himself to think too much about the responsibility that sat on his shoulders, he might buckle under the weight of it. Since buckling wasn’t an option, he tried to take things one minute—and one meeting—at a time, while still trying to determine who among Nelson’s secretaries he could trust and who he couldn’t.

  A knock on the door of the Oval Office interrupted his musings and the conversation that had gone on without him among his top aides. “Come in,” Nick called.

  “Pardon the interruption, Mr. President,” said Derek Kavanaugh, Nick’s longtime personal friend as well as his deputy chief of staff.

  “Come on in, Derek,” Nick said.

  “I wanted to make you aware of a situation in Des Moines. Gunfire has broken out at a Meet with Santa event being held at an elementary school. We have reports of multiple fatalities, including children.”