My father's the president and my brother's the golden boy, which leaves me the black sheep; the son who never wanted to be here at all.
The white house is my gilded cage, and the secret service are my prison guards. I'm nearly twenty and nothing about my life is normal.
The only thing giving me life and any motivation to get out of bed is the way he looks at me. The stolen glances across the West Wing. Heated gazes in the private dining room.
He's my father's best friend, which isn't even the worst part, he's also the vice president. Utterly off limits and I can't bring myself to care. Can't bring myself to stop encouraging his flirting, dreaming, and hoping he won't be able to resist me forever.