All Chapters of The President's Mate: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

Devon JamesThe roar of the crowd was a living, breathing thing. It surged through the open plaza, a tidal wave of sound and fervour that rattled the very bones of the earth beneath my feet. My name—Devon James—echoed from thousands of throats, a chant that rose and fell like an ancient hymn.I stood tall on the podium, the weight of their adoration pressing against my skin like sunlight. My hand was raised in a firm wave, the gesture deliberate, practised, yet tonight, it carried a sharper edge of finality. Victory.Beside me, my wife stood, the picture of grace and poise.Eleanor.Delicate as spun glass, her beauty softened men and made women take a second, sharper glance. Dark hair swept into an elegant chignon, her crimson dress hugging her curves in a way that managed to be both regal and alluring. She smiled—serene, controlled—but her fingers tightened around mine for just a heartbeat longer than necessary.We both knew what this meant.Not just power. Not just position.Domini

Devon James2:03 AM.I let out a slow breath, watching the numbers on my phone flicker coldly in the dark as if mocking me. My first official day as President of Astria was over. Or at least, the world thought so. My body told a different story. Every inch of me ached, not from human exhaustion alone, but from something deeper gnawing inside—weak, restless, and barely caged.Franco was waiting the moment the car rolled to a stop outside the presidential suite. The man was loyal to a fault, eyes sharp even at this ungodly hour. He opened the door with his usual efficiency, offering a clipped, “Welcome back, Mr. President.”I stepped out, spine stiff, joints screaming their protest. A pair of staffers—one young woman I barely knew and an older valet—approached with practiced smiles. They took my briefcase, my overcoat, murmured formalities I was too tired to process. One of them asked if I’d like the kitchen to prepare something—light soup, perhaps, or tea.I shook my head. “No. Just be

Jimmie’s POVI smoothed my palms over my suit jacket for the hundredth time and tried — tried — not to overthink.It wasn’t working.I mean, here I was, sitting in the actual Presidential Suite lobby, waiting on the First Lady like this was just another Tuesday.What even was my life right now?I still couldn’t believe I landed this job. Assistant to the First Lady.Like—what?Me? Jimmie Portland from East Shore? The kid who used to dream about getting any job in politics, let alone one that had me rubbing shoulders with the wife of the actual President?Yeah. Sometimes I had to pinch myself.But then… There was he.The President.My boss’s husband.And if I thought working here would be all glam and White House fairytales — well, reality had slapped me right in the face.Because Devon James was nothing like I’d imagined.At first, I thought maybe he was just a serious guy. Like, too-busy-saving-the-country-to-smile kind of serious. Which, you know, is fair enough.But no.No, this w