Free Blonde Billionaire (Road to the Oval Office #1) by Patricia Johnson

 
     
     
     
    It was the most nerve-wracking day of my entire life.
     
    He was the richest man in Miami. Every new real estate development on South Beach and downtown Miami had his name on it: Ronald Wolff. Even an auditorium at my alma mater had his name on it, thanks to a very generous donation he made during the last year of my undergrad. An absolute icon on the South Florida business and social scene, he started publicly toying with the idea of running for president of the United States. He was already the most powerful man in Florida, so a lot of people, myself included, assumed that it was just another bit of his self-described “harmless hyperbole” when the recently-divorced Wolff said that he wanted to be the most powerful man in the free world. We were wrong to dismiss him, though, as the idea seemed to gain more momentum within his own mind anytime a journalist asked him to comment on the true likelihood of such a venture.
     
    Eventually, through fellow alumni and contacts on LinkedIn, I started seeing evidence that his aspiration was far beyond the idea stage-- it was blossoming into a legitimate campaign. Wolff was assembling his campaign team by reaching right into his own backyard, taking a somewhat atypical approach by choosing individuals from the corporate community. Actually, it certainly suited him, seeing as he was a complete political outsider, even though he had friends and connections within the legislative community, from mayors and senators to the governor himself.
     
    And here I was, a recent MBA graduate in my first decent apartment, getting dressed and ready to go interview to be part of Ronald Wolff’s campaign staff. Stacy, my roommate and former classmate had talked me into going after a position within his public relations sub-team. I had a handful of prospects with several South Florida firms thanks to friends and HR types sharing my resume, but I didn’t feel locked into committing to any of them anytime soon. The freelance writing that I’d started doing while completing my MBA was still more than sufficient to pay my bills, so there was no real rush. Still , even before Stacy started aggressively sales-pitching me on the idea, I knew that it could be an intriguing kick-start to my career to be part of a successful political campaign staff, whether they won or lost. Even if I didn’t have the first clue as to what that world would be like. Even if I would find myself sitting at the end of my bed, unable to even decide between a smart-looking pants/cotton blazer combination or a classy leggings/sleeveless top with a peplum combo.
     
    My hands were slightly sweaty thanks to the indecision, which was very unlike me. When Stacy and I first talked about it, I envisioned meeting with a pleasant yet assertive, maybe middle-aged female who had experience with hiring individuals for campaign staffs. When the online application packet asked for a soft-copy headshot attached with my resume, I didn’t think much of it-- in fact, I just went to my LinkedIn profile and used that same polished, professional picture from it, copy/pasted it into my digital resume and sent it off to the Wolff people with just two button clicks. When I got a response from them that my application was near the top of their list to come in for an in-person interview with Ronald Wolff himself, the situation got real and my anxiety showed up. The nerves only grew more raw as the interview day approached.
     
    Dressing for another woman was one thing, especially one who was probably anticipating a certain “look”. But there, in my bedroom, I found myself trying to figure out what Wolff would want to see. I never did the math to figure out his age, but he’s been an icon in the business world for as long as I can remember. Despite that, he almost seemed to embody a sort of ageless energy with his overall look and demeanor. Having a beautifully coiffed head of blonde hair probably helped with that aesthetic. I’d