"Do you really want to be known for sleeping with the President?" I sighed. The last question I wanted to answer. Falling for the devastatingly handsome presidential candidate was never my plan—let alone becoming another notch in his private suite. All I wanted was to intern and support my brother with special needs. But somehow, I ended up as his date to a high-profile gala. Accused of being his latest conquest, I stumbled—right into his arms, in the back seat of his Maybach. They call him Mr. Tremendous for a reason. That night, my senses—and my dress—didn't stand a chance.