The Gemini Deception

Chapter Twenty-seven

The White House

Next evening, March 7

Ryden picked at her dinner. The White House chef had prepared another tantalizing feast—tonight’s menu included filet mignon, twice-baked potatoes, and an array of grilled vegetables, normally her favorite. But she’d barely managed a few forkfuls though she’d skipped dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. Her appetite had disappeared since she’d basically told Kennedy to go to hell.

The sentiment couldn’t have been further from the feelings she had wanted to express, but she knew one wrong word would mean curtains for both of them.

Up until a few days ago, all that mattered to her was getting through this ordeal alive so she could start her life anew, but Kennedy had somehow managed to warp her priorities. Ryden was doing her best to keep her distance and discourage Kennedy from looking too deep into the abyss of deceptions, but it hurt to push away the only person who seemed to sincerely care for her. She had been groomed to be selfish—for an orphan, it was necessary for survival—so people like Kennedy hadn’t existed in her reality.

But somehow Kennedy had managed to convince her that some people really did give a damn, and not because they could profit in some way. Ryden knew Kennedy was being honest concerning her motivation to uncover what was going on, that she sincerely cared about Ryden’s safety on a personal level.

Why did it take a fake life to find an honest person? And why couldn’t she bring herself to tell Kennedy the truth?

Not that it would matter. Even if she could have the unrealistic luxury of including Kennedy in her life after she was set free, she wouldn’t have the guts to look Kennedy in the face after all that had transpired. She was too insecure about her background and bland personality, and she felt too guilty about what she’d done to even fathom embracing the acceptance and attraction of a woman like Kennedy, a rich woman who happened to have morals and self-sacrifice embedded in her genes.

No, she had nothing to offer a woman of such a high caliber, which made telling Kennedy the truth as unappealing as kissing Ratman. She would have to leave Kennedy and every thought of her here in the White House. Here, she was at least the kind of woman Kennedy could appreciate: a strong, capable leader who had achieved greatness but somewhere along the way, beyond her control, had become trapped in a deceitful game.

She could feel Kennedy’s eyes on her back as she played with her food. Ratman had told her it would be unprofessional to skip another meal, so here she was, pushing it around, hoping the mess she’d made on her plate would fool the help.

Soon, she wouldn’t have any more reasons to act or force herself to do anything. Judging from the calls she’d had to make to Senate Majority Leader Andrew Schuster, the illegal-arms bill was likely the main reason she’d been blackmailed to double the president. Now that she’d made the official announcement abandoning the plan, her work here seemed to be done.

Did Theodora Rothschild have further use for her? And if not, would she keep the promise she’d made to set her up with a new life somewhere, with further alterations to her features and money enough to start over? Rothschild, Ratman, and whoever else was in on this conspiracy had already proved themselves capable of anything and not ones to leave loose ends behind.

And what would they do to Kennedy, who would go from protecting her to guarding the real Elizabeth Thomas? Ratman and that hideous Rothschild woman had said the real president would never discuss her abduction and replacement once she was back in office, because aside from destroying her credibility she’d also endanger her family. But even if that panned out—even if Thomas played along—Kennedy would certainly be able to spot the difference now, and Ratman wouldn’t allow anything to endanger his master plan.

After their discussion the day before she wanted desperately to get Kennedy out of here, so she’d talked to Ratman yesterday about replacing her bodyguard. She had told him Kennedy was asking too many questions she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer, and it was making her increasingly nervous and on edge. But Ratman, to her surprise, hadn’t been impressed or worried; he’d shrugged off her concerns by saying, “Not my call.” Maybe it wasn’t his decision, but his indifference was worrying, to say the least.

Too anxious to continue the ruse of eating, she looked at the waiter who stood nearby, ready to attend to her every whim. “Why don’t you join the rest in the kitchen?” She smiled. “I hardly have an appetite tonight, and I won’t need anything else.”

“But—”

“I would appreciate some alone time.”

“Are you sure, Madam President?”

“I insist.”

The man gave a slight bow and left the private dining room.

Ryden took a deep breath and hoped she’d live to regret what she was about to do. She set her fork down. “Would you please join me at the table?”

A few moments of silence elapsed before Kennedy replied from behind her. “I assume you’re talking to me.”

“Yes.”

Without any audible movement Kennedy appeared at the table. Ryden could feel those beautiful blue eyes on her. “Have a seat,” she said, unable to look at her.

Kennedy pulled out the chair next to her and sat on her right.

“I want you to leave,” Ryden said.

Without a word Kennedy, got up.

“I want you to leave the White House.”

“You finally made the time to have me fired?” Kennedy asked coldly.

“Tell your superior you want a reassignment.”

“I won’t, because I don’t. If it’s any consolation, I promise not to talk to you anymore unless completely necessary, Madam President.”

“Please drop the Madam President bit.”

“I prefer we didn’t.”

“Fine, whatever,” she said. “But I insist you get out of here.”

Kennedy sat back down. “That sounds ominous.”

She shrugged. How was she going to make Kennedy realize she was in danger without telling her the truth? “Maybe it is.”

“I wish you would stop playing with me.”

“I’m not. I simply can’t say more.”

“I got that,” Kennedy said. “That’s been obvious since my first day here.”

Ryden forced herself to look at her. “Please, don’t fight me and don’t ask me why. Just do as I say.”

“I’m sorry. It doesn’t work that way.”

She placed her hand on Kennedy’s. “Listen to me.” She squeezed Kennedy’s hand. “You are in danger.”

“Why?” Kennedy looked surprised but didn’t pull her hand away.

“If I could discuss that, I would have already told you. But I can’t, so please don’t make me lie more than I already have. Just trust me when I tell you there’s a lot going on, things you could never begin to imagine. It’s not safe here, Kennedy, and your curiosity has rubbed some individuals the wrong way.”

“Moore and who else?”

Ryden looked away. “Who they are doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“You can’t stop them.”

“I’m not alone. I have a very powerful company behind me.”

“More powerful than the government?”

“Just tell me if the CIA is involved.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“The CIA—to my knowledge, anyway—has nothing to do with it.”

“Will you tell me what your part in all this is?”

Ryden shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Can you at least tell me if you were threatened?”

“I was.”

“What would happen if these people and their game were exposed?”

Ryden tried to hide the shudder that went through her at the prospect, but the goose bumps on her arms betrayed her.

Kennedy must have noticed them, too. “I see,” she said quietly. “I’m going to make some phone calls—”

“No!” Ryden practically screamed and grasped Kennedy’s hand. “If they so much as suspect I had this conversation with you, they’ll…they’ll…”

“They won’t,” Kennedy said. “I’d never jeopardize you.”

How could Kennedy still be so sincerely interested in her well-being, after being told they were in dire danger?

“Please, Kennedy. Just leave.”

“I can’t.” Kennedy’s piercing blue eyes locked with hers.

“I know it’s your job to protect me, but I’m safer without you here.”

“Are you?”

“They can tell I…I like you. They’ll use that and then…”

“What exactly do they know?”

“That I like to spend time with you, talk with you.”

“What else?” Kennedy looked troubled.

“Oh, they don’t know about…that.”

“Which that are you referring to?”

“No one knows I broke into your room, got tipsy on your wine, and…whatever.”

Kennedy smiled. “You kissed me.”

Her face flamed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about that, I—”

“Was confused, troubled, and lonely. Yes, you’ve made that clear. But I haven’t heard you say you regret it.”

“I…” Her breath caught. “No.”

“Good, because the only thing I’m sorry about is that you weren’t sober at the time.”

What Ryden wouldn’t give to be in another place and time right now.

“Is that why you’ve been pushing me away?” Kennedy asked.

“I don’t want you involved or hurt. I couldn’t bear that.” She looked down at their hands and realized she was absentmindedly caressing Kennedy’s palm. She started to pull her hand away but Kennedy stopped her.

“I don’t know what’s going on in this place, or how they managed to involve you, but I can see you’re somehow the victim.”

I’m the biggest con and liar you’ve ever met. Lying to the country was painful enough, but deceiving this woman was agonizing.

“I’m staying here with you, Elizabeth.”

Why wouldn’t Kennedy listen? She was beyond frustrated—with Kennedy’s stubbornness, with the mess she was in, and most of all, right now, with the fact that in the midst of all this chaos all she wanted to do was steal another kiss. “Kennedy, why can’t you just listen—”

“I’m staying. And not because you’re the president and it’s my duty.” She lifted Ryden’s hand and raised it to her lips. “But because you’re you.”