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his white tuxedo shirt.  He didn’t notice the wine soaking into his jacket.  He simply marveled at the beauty that looked as delicate as a flower but fought like a beast.  Into her unconscious ear, he leaned down and whispered three words he’d never spoken to anyone, ever.
    “I can’t help myself, Meg.  I love you.” He sat up searching her face for some hint that she may have heard his confession.  Her long, dark lashes lay in beautiful arches against her smooth, pale skin.  She was as still as a painting; a timeless beauty.  Gideon couldn’t stop staring at the piece of living art in his arms.
    He didn’t bother to listen to the voice that came from the musician’s microphone announcing Joe Hawthorne as the candidate chosen as the party’s presidential nominee.  Nothing but the girl mattered to him.
    It took Ermos fifteen minutes before his frantic face came searching for them, taking in the sight of the girl who looked and smelled drunk.
    “What an embarrassment,” the usually mild-tempered manservant scolded.  “You should have taken better care of Miss Meg.”  Gideon wasn’t listening to the words, but he did carefully gather Meg in his arms and followed Ermos down the back stairwell so as not to cause a scene.
    Within minutes, Gideon was seated in the back of Arkdone’s limousine with the unconscious girl still curled in his arms. 
    Arkdone was on the phone with Adrian Roth, his campaign manager, barking angry orders and demanding explanations from him.  He didn’t even seem to notice Gideon and Meg at first.
    By the time they’d arrived at the small, private airport, Arkdone’s face was beet red with fury.  His tirade at losing the presidential nomination had lasted the entire forty-minute drive, and it sounded as though he was just getting started when he slammed the phone down, surely jarring Roth’s ear.
    “What the hell happened to her?” he screamed at Gideon, his sweaty handprint still clear on the glossy black surface of his discarded cell phone.
    Gideon dragged his eyes away from the phone and forced himself to respond to his controller.  “I didn’t realize she had too much to drink until it was too late.  She collapsed, hitting her nose and spilling her wine,” he lied.
    Arkdone narrowed his already beady eyes.  “Her wine?” Arkdone fumed.  “Did it occur to you that she’s only sixteen?” he seethed.
    “Sir, no sir.  I did not know her age.”  Gideon looked down at her in disbelief.  Now that he was focusing on her slim frame and flawless skin, he felt even more reverence toward such an old soul in the young body.
    “I expected more from you, Gideon.  Now you get to anticipate the consequences for your carelessness.”
    “Sir, yes sir.” Gideon felt himself bow his head submissively to his controller, but for the first time in his life, he felt resentment for his body’s automatic reaction to Arkdone’s reprimand. 
    Ermos stopped the car beside the private jet and Arkdone angrily opened his door to exit the vehicle as he growled, “She reeks of alcohol.” 
    He then ducked his head back into the limo to add, “Have her cleaned up and ready to discuss matters one hour after we arrive back at the hospital.  She has work she’d better be willing to start immediately.”
    “Sir, yes sir.”  Gideon nodded respectfully and watched the Senator take the steps up to the jet two and three at a time.  He frowned to himself wondering why he’d never noticed his controller’s agility. 
    How many other things are going on that I’ve been oblivious to all this time? Have I been such a mindless monarch to have missed the bizarre behavior of my controller?
    He looked back at the girl in his arms and wondered if it were because of her that his eyes were finally starting to open to the life he’d been forced to live.  She moaned softly in her sleep.  The sound of her voice was a soothing tonic to his soul.
    Ermos was standing at the door.  He coughed