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Stalking the President: A Dark Romance

Angel is stalking the President, a daddy twice her age. Call her deranged, but she thinks she is perfectly fine. Darrow is the love of her life, and she will stop at nothing to win his heart. Not even murder. Darrow sacrificed much for presidency, but somehow, he can't shake the feeling that he is always being watched. When a peculiar female reporter is seen leaving his hotel room late at night, he proposes an arranged marriage to her to solve his problems. What a heavenly plan.

Zella_Ace · Urban
Not enough ratings
23 Chs

Chapter Five

"So, tell us, Angel," the editor in front of her said. "Why do you want a job with us that much?"

They were forced to give her another interview, but not after she decorated a placard that announced that Brevity Press was not paying their staff well. That got their attention right away and they dragged her all the way to their office and gave her the attention she always wanted from them. Of course, the fact that she had been camping in front of their building helped her a lot too.

"I have a passion for politics," Angel said.

"Then why don't you start a blog on politics instead?" the editor asked her as the side of his mouth twitched in irritation. "That would work, wouldn't it?"

"I want a job here," Angel said to them. "At Brevity Press. I won't take no for an answer."

"So you keep saying," the editor said. "Keep this between you and me only, but the head of staff at the department of politics is a nut job. You should find another job while you still can. Just my two cents."

"I don't care. Can he be crazier than I am?"

The editor huffed a laugh. "Right, you have a point."

"I want that job, Jared," Angel said after giving his name card a quick glance.

"Well, since you've left us with no choice," Jared said. "I'll let you on for a while to show you what working here is really like. You will work as an intern. An unpaid intern. What do you say? Do you want the job or not?"

Those words lit her face up like a Christmas tree. "Fuck yes!"

❃❃❃


The journalists crowded around her like rats to the first sign of meat in weeks. One of them removed a bottle of champagne and popped it, pouring some of it into a plastic cup. She handed it over to Angel, who took it from her and immediately placed it down on her desk.

"Angel," she said. "Congratulations on becoming permanent staff!"

She knew this was bound to happen. Unlike most people, she was as relentless as she was psychotic. She was first an unpaid intern who mainly handed mail out to her fellow co-workers but it was late one night when one of them left her computer on, an article still being written and the publish button ready for pressing. She sat down on her table and whisked her phone out, copy pasted the article she took weeks to write into the editor and hit publish.

The article really took off in those few short minutes before they realised what she had done. She had published a scathing article on the President, and for some reason, all her facts were, well, uncannily true. She seemed to have firsthand knowledge of him, and everyone drank her words up like they were being fed the fountain of life. The attention surrounding her work grew along with the fury of her employers until they realised they could milk her newfound fame for views and after allowing her to pen more articles on Darrow which rode the wave of fame, she was soon converted to permanent staff.

"Thank you," Angel said. "I deserve it."

That colleague frowned in one split second, jealousy plain on her face before she switched her expression for a more politically correct one, no pun intended. She smiled and they continued on with the party. Angel stayed out of the mingling, and went to her computer. She fired up the computer, and got to work, searching more about Darrow online as she always did. Now, nobody would think twice about her search history. She was engrossed in one article of him with his hand firmly grasped in another female politician's when a pitchy voice dragged her out of it.

"What?" Angel said, annoyed. It was her boss, Ian.

"Hard at work during a party?"

"Yeah," Angel said, hoping her body language told him to fuck off.

"I was thinking of sending someone else, but now I think I want you to do something for me."

"What?"

"How would you like to be in the same room with the President of Newsia?"