“Yes, but the gist of what I was saying is that you could change your mind. Stranger things have happened.”
“I don’t think so, but don’t worry. Regardless of how I feel about the state of matrimony, I’ll still be able to fulfill my duties to you as a fake fiancé.”
“How comforting.” As I slid the ring on my finger, I frowned. I didn’t like the way it felt on my finger. While the large diamond was naturally heavy, there was something else about it, like a burden weighing me down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I murmured.
“I call bullshit. You seriously have to work on your poker face, Addison.”
I sighed. “Fine. I was just having one of those annoying girly moments thinking that this wasn’t how I pictured it would be when I got engaged.”
“Well, that’s because it isn’t the moment you got engaged. It’s the moment you slid a ring on your finger as part of a deal to be a fake fiancée.”
“Way to cheapen it.”
“Truth hurts, babe.”
“Ugh, you don’t seriously use that term with women, do you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because you sound like some caveman who climbed out of a glacier.”
Barrett laughed. “Ah, so you’re one of those feminazis.”
“No, I’m a feminist.”
“I’m not sure there’s a difference.”
“Maybe not in your misogynistic eyes.”
With a shake of his head, Barrett mused, “The next few months sure are going to be fun.”
I opened my mouth to say something I probably shouldn’t have but was interrupted by a petite middle-aged woman teetering into the living room on impossibly high heels.
“Addison, this is Mary Anne Thompson. She’s my father’s personal assistant,” Barrett said in introduction.
I extended my hand. “It’s nice to meet you. At my previous job, I was the personal assistant to a representative.”
“Ah, so you know how tortuous a task it is to wrangle political men,” she said with a smile.
“Yes, I do.”
Barrett chuckled behind me. “You know you love every minute you have with us Callahan men.”
She winked at him. “Some days are better than others.”
“Whatever,” Barrett replied good-naturedly.
Mary Anne opened the folder in her hands. “First of all, I want to show you where you’ll be staying for the weekend.”
“We won’t be staying here in the penthouse?” I asked.
“With all the craziness leading up to Super Tuesday, we’ve arranged a much more private suite for the two of you to use to get to know each other.”
“Great,” I muttered. The farther I was from the penthouse and the calming presence of
Senator Callahan, the less likely it was that I’d be able to control my temper.
With a flick of her wrist, Mary Anne started for the elevator, and Barrett and I fell in step behind her. After she tapped the button for the twenty-ninth floor, I exhaled a relieved breath. We were only one floor below the penthouse. The doors opened, and we trailed behind Mary Anne as she walked purposely down the long, carpeted hallway.
She came to a stop outside a door that read Presidential Suite. Throwing a grin over her shoulder, she said, “I couldn’t help myself when I was booking this one, like in a weird way the fact that it was available on short notice was some sort of sign.”
I laughed while Barrett only grunted. Just as Mary Anne started to use the key card to open the door, her phone rang. I didn’t have to guess who was calling since “Hail to the Chief” echoed through the hallway. Mary Anne really was thinking positively about the election results.
With a grimace, she handed me the key card. “Go ahead and go inside. I need to take this.”
As she stepped down the hallway for some privacy, I opened the door for us, and Barrett followed me inside. Once again, opulence surrounded me. While I took everything in with wide eyes, Barrett brushed past me. With barely a fleeting glance at the spacious living room and dining area, he threw open the double doors leading into the bedroom.
Since Mary Anne was still on the phone, I followed Barrett. When I eyed the giant king-sized, canopied bed, anxiety pricked its way over my skin. I wasn’t sure if my uneasiness came from the fact that I was worried about Barrett trying to put moves on me or if there was a part of me—a very small and annoying part—that might have wanted him to. In a weird way, he was like one of the sexual wonders of the world. You couldn’t help being curious or wanting to mark it off your bucket list.
Barrett flopped down on the side of the bed and kicked off his shoes then pushed himself back on the mattress. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he lay back against the pillows. "Comfy."
"I'm not sleeping with you," I blurted out.
"Easy, sweetheart. That was an observation, not a come-on."
My anxious gaze spun around the room. "This is a suite, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Because I assumed there would be another room, and more precisely, another bed."
“I’m sure there is one, if not two more bedrooms on the other side of the suite,” he replied.
I swept a hand to my heart as I exhaled a relieved breath. “Thank God.”
A smirk curved on Barrett’s lips. “Afraid to share a bed with me?”