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Chapter 1
Jaclyn
“All right, Jackie, we’ll begin once Christopher is ready,” Lisa quips, studying her clipboard and adjusting her glasses.
I purse my lips, not daring to correct her for calling me Jackie, even though I detest it. The last thing I need is someone leaking to the press that I’m a ‘bridezilla.’ Instead, I admire my A-line satin gown in the mirror, swiping at my non-existent wrinkles and nod once.
Poised. Pleasant. Polished.
“Thank you, Lisa. You’ve been a tremendous help today.” She offers a genuine smile in response and steps out.
My entire life has been curated to bring me to this moment. Growing up in the White House, society and the media have dictated each facet of my life. Today is no different. Except, my wedding coordinator has given me more stress than the planningitself.
As for my fiancé, Christopher will be the perfect husband. Or, rather, he’s a good political match; we have plenty in common. Perhaps plenty isn’t the proper term. Enough. We haveenoughin common.
Who needs love? Friendship and respect are more important.
Or at least friendship.
Friendship is essential… Right?
Chris and I come from political families who have the highest expectations of us, and he understands the microscope I’ve been under since I was a child. Chris and his twin brother, Alex, are Senators, and their father was the President before mine. Despite my father’s political career being over three years ago, as a soon-to-be Senator’s wife, I’m still in the limelight.
State Assembly, Governor, Congressman, and two terms as President… I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t supporting my father. The next decade will be more of the same, this time for Chris.
Inspecting the last few details of my appearance, I can’t help my sigh. It may be a loveless arrangement, but it’s advantageous for both of us. As one of the youngest of the party, Chris’ chances of being the presidential nominee increase exponentially when he’s no longer a bachelor—especially marrying a Taylor. If everything goes to plan, he should be able to announce his candidacy shortly after our honeymoon.
The perfect Washington power couple.
I check my phone for what must be the tenth time in the past hour, and there are only twenty minutes before I’m supposed to begin the next chapter in my life. My attention is pulled away from it when, without looking up from her own phone, one of my bridesmaids robotically tells me, “You look beautiful.”
Glancing around the bridal suite, my bridesmaids are three women I hardly know. None of them appear anxious, though given we’re practically strangers, I shouldn’t expect them to be. With nothing going the way I envisioned it would on my wedding day, my nerves are slowly getting the best of me, and I’m starting to regret my decision to not have my real girlfriends stand up with me.
I wouldn’t want Ileah or Evelyn to be part of this charade—today is more for the country, the party, and the press, than it is for me. Though, I suppose my stand-in bridesmaids and I have more in common than I’d like to admit. We’ve all been meticulous about our public personas to ensure we’d be the picturesque wives to Senators and Governors.
Educated, but not opinionated. Feminine, but not too delicate. Social, but always keeping secrets guarded. First Lady is in my future if I marry Chris; I have to play the part.
Despite having political aspirations of my own, being an unmarried woman in my father’s party, my career wouldfail miserably if I ran. While the Taylor name openssomedoors, those doors are only a crack you can slip a hand through, and after today, the name will no longer be mine. My best chance at being anything other than a political trophy wife is to help my husband’s career flourish. If luck is on my side, in a few years—and after birthing a few obligatory children—I’ll have my shot at stepping into the political ring. I just need to bide my time.
Five more minutes pass before Lisa breathlessly rushes in. One hand presses her headset closer to her ear, and she gasps, “You need to speak with Former President Taylor.”
My shoulders sag with a sigh. “What does my father need?”
“He didn’t say, but he’s in room seven down the hall.”
She’s as utterly useless as my bridesmaids.
With a last look around the room, I lift the skirt of my dress enough not to trip over it, and briskly walk to room seven. Hand poised to knock, I pause. There’s shouting coming from inside, and I rest my ear on the ornate wooden door.
“We have to cancel,” Father grits out.
“No, Tim! That’s not what we discussed. In no world will I allow my daughter—our family—to be disgraced because ofhismistakes!” Mother snaps back. “She’s worked too hard for this.I’veworked too hard for this. I don’t care about him saving face; we find anotherway. Isn’t there some crisis we can make up and toss to the media sharks? Something to distract them?”
What the hell is happening?
I finally knock, and to my surprise, Christopher answers—wearing a navy suit, not his tuxedo. “Chris, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be—” My breath is stolen from me; the blue in Chris’ hazel eyes is more brown. We haven’t talked in years, yet he still makes my heart stop and my stomach twist. As the air returns to my lungs, I exhale, “Alex.”
“Well, don’t you clean up nicely?” His heated gaze slowly takes in every inch of me, sending shivers down my spine. While they may be identical in appearance, they couldn’t be more different. Alex’s irises flare, looking at me with a hint of longing; something Chris has never done. When Alex eventually meets my eyes again, he smirks. “Seems you don’t know my brother all that well, if you’re confusing me for him. Maybe it’s best you’re calling it off.”
