“I need you,” he’d said early on. And from him, it was better than I love you. “We are great together,” he’d insisted with a fervor she believed was reserved only for her. It meant he would reach for her hand under the table at campaign rallies where no one could see. It meant that he would show up three or even five minutes late to meetings just so he could kiss her one more time. It meant that she alone could make him laugh when he didn’t mean to, she alone could coax from him the sudden explosions of heat and passion that had surprised him and dazzled her. It meant she was his weakness and he was her strength. Being needed by a man who was so fiercely independent felt like power and a guarantee of stability.

That was before the White House.

She and Patrick had made a deal. If he won the presidency, he’d make life better for her people. There was a new democracy in Venezuela, a president committed to human rights. She told herself that as First Lady of the United States, she could do far more to help Venezuelans than she could as a PhD student in engineering. Patrick had promised her that if he won, he’d ease sanctions on her country, make it possible for the economy to strengthen and democracy to grow.

She laughed at the memory. His self-righteousness, her naïveté.

And the world thinks I’m the one betraying this marriage? What a joke.

Anita took a deep breath, savoring the taste of the wet spring air with its earthy, cleansing scent. She’d been walking for a good thirty minutes and was starting to feel her blood flow. The terrain here was untouched except for a single line of footprints ahead. Usually her detail didn’t bother her. They had a job to do, she was used to it.

Today for some reason their presence was enraging. Was it really necessary to have snipers ahead and armed agents behind while they were in the middle of nowhere? Wasn’t it possible for her to have the illusion of privacy here? The sense of being a lone explorer? The whole point of getting away from the White House was getting away—leaving the trappings of the presidency behind. She might as well go surrender herself at a prison.

Childish. I’m being childish, she scolded herself. The team was giving her as much space as they could, more than they were supposed to. She knew that. What if some lone wolf lunatic was hiding in the woods waiting to assassinate her?

“Ma’am?” It was Beth, the head of her security detail, from behind her. “If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, I’d suggest we return to the house. It is beginning to get dark. Makes the team nervous.”

Anita nodded. “Ten more minutes,” she said.