I have no clue what it is. All I know is it’ll be given to me or happen or whatever when we’re in California.
I mean, I know it’s not getting married, duh. Even if Leo tried that, I wouldn’t let him. He needs to marry Elliot. That’s the only way any of this works long-term.
If that golden ring is no longer there for Elliot to reach for, I don’t know what it’d do to him. He’d probably fully retreat into his fear and remain miserable for the rest of his life.
I’m used to living on the edges of the world, of blending in and remaining unnoticed.
Elliot doesn’t have that skill. He simply…withdraws. Hides in his closet.
I won’t let him do that and live in misery.
“You’re lucky I can’t beat it out of you,” I grouse as I slap his ass and return to my seat.
He laughs. “Oh, no, Sir. Please don’t beat me.”
“Smart-ass.”
But, truth be told, I wouldn’t want him any other way.
* * * *
“I hope he’s going to be okay.” I’m staring out the airplane window as our jet prepares to take off. It’s two days before Christmas, and I’m missing Elliot already, even though I made love to him this morning before sending him off to work.
Leo squeezes my hand. “He’ll be okay. Not the first time we’ve left him alone.”
“It’s our true first Christmas together, though.” The night before last, Elliot and I privately celebrated together, at his request. He ordered from our favorite sushi restaurant, we ate in the den with nothing but the lights from the tree and the TV, exchanged presents, and then he gently took over and made love to me right there on the couch.
There was beautiful peace in his eyes as he stared down at me, something I rarely see there now except when Leo or I have him deep in subspace.
Looking into his eyes, it felt like the core of his soul lay exposed to me, allowing me to witness exactly what Leo fell in love with about him that first night so many years ago.
To protect these two men and what they have, I would kill or die for them.
I would. That’s not an exaggeration.
I understand exactly why Kev threw himself in front of Chris that horrible afternoon. I would do that for either one of them, too. In a heartbeat.
Except Leo now requires we both wear body armor for any public events happening outdoors. And he stepped up my firearms training. I don’t have a carry license, and couldn’t carry around Elliot even if I did have one, but Leo still wants me to be proficient.
Leo squeezes my hand again. “He’s the one who has to live inside his head, baby. We can’t do that for him. Maybe this year he’ll feel lonelier than ever, and it makes him want to change.”
I hear the blatant longing in his tone, and it breaks my heart even more.
Leo would marry Elliot tomorrow if Elliot asked him.
But Leo will never force him.
I get it. Except now I also see things from Elliot’s point of view in a way I never could before. Being a submissive myself, I sense Elliot would be far more okay with Leo stepping up and taking over and laying down the law than Leo thinks he would. Even long-term. It would be one less burden on Elliot’s already overflowing plate of them, to have that decision taken out of his hands.
In the back of my mind, I’m still trying to develop a plan to nudge Elliot to propose. Maybe after the election, once he doesn’t have to worry about getting elected. If he loses, fuck it, I’m going to order him to propose to Leo.
Except…I don’t want him to lose. Because that will create a permanent pothole in Elliot’s soul to chatter at him that he was a failure. And he’ll blame that on his deeply held secrets, even though that’s not the case at all.
We humans are brutally complicated beings, though.
The flight to LA is fine. Leo assumes he’s doing all the driving, and I’m fine with that, too. I can drive, and do, on occasion, but I hate LA and the traffic. I prefer Leo drives when we’re here. Although he does add me to the rental contract as an extra driver, just in case.
Heading south, I stare out the passenger window at glimpses I get of the Pacific. “Do you think he’d want to move out here after?”
Leo’s right hand lays on my left thigh, my fingers curled around it. “I don’t know, baby. It’s expensive to live out here. Plus, the older I get, the less inclined I am to go back to work and spend time away from the two of you. I have my pension, and Elliot will have his. I’d like you to be able to finish your degree, if you’d like, and just live a life of leisure. Elliot can make speeches or write a book or something, if he wants to.”
He glances my way. “Why? Do you want to live out here?” If I say yes, he’ll start planning that before we even return to DC.
“I don’t know. As long as the three of us are together, I suppose I really don’t care where we live.”
He squeezes my hand.
It’s still early in the afternoon. While Leo hasn’t told me our detailed itinerary, it makes me curious when we deviate from our usual route to Laguna Beach. “Where are we going?”
Behind his sunglasses, Sir grins. “Ooh, you’ll soon see, boy.”
His tone makes me shiver. I can’t help it. There are sweetly jagged slivers of his control embedded in my soul now, and he knows every button to push.
This must be my surprise.
Whatever he’s up to, I’m along for the ride.
We pull up in front of an upper-class strip mall and he shifts the car into park before turning to me and removing his sunglasses. When he speaks, it’s the low, controlled tone of Sir.
“Are you prepared to be with me and Elliot for life? Even if I never marry you?”
I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I have an idea, because one of the storefronts is for a tattoo parlor.
Still, I meet his gaze head-on. “Yes, Sir. I’m with you and Elliot for life.”
He smiles and leans in to kiss me, cupping the nape of my neck as he does. “Do you trust me, baby?”
There’s no hesitation in my answer. “Yes, Sir.” I would follow this man through the fires of Hell and back, if he asked.
I’m not perfect, but I don’t repeat my mistakes. I’m never again walking away from him and Elliot.
Ever.
His smile widens, positively evil, and now I’m fucking hard. “Come on, baby. Let’s go do this.”
He holds my hand as we walk inside and, when we reach the counter, I find we have an appointment.
Not with any of the tattoo artists—with a body piercer.
Oh, shit.
Now I know exactly why we’re here, even before Leo takes the clipboard holding a release form and starts filling in my information. No, it doesn’t surprise me that he knows everything—I have his and Elliot’s information memorized, too. And Elliot knows ours.
It’s what you do when you’re in a relationship for life.
Once that’s finished, I’ve signed the form, and Leo’s paid, Leo has a quick and private consultation with the piercer. Then we’re shown back into a room, where Leo smiles as he strips my shirt off.
Ooooh, boy.
“Hands behind your back, baby. Keep them there. Hold on to my belt if you need to.”
He stands behind me, and that’s exactly what I do—wedge my fingers under and around his belt and hold on tight. He wraps his arms around me, one hand cupping the front of my throat and the other around my waist.
“Such a good boy for me, baby,” he rumbles in my ear, and I’m…gone.
It doesn’t take long. While it hurts like fucking hell—and makes me hard at the same time—I barely even notice the pain. It’s the non-stop stream of praise and love Leo whispers in my ear that tightly grips me and keeps me still.
He’s always wished he could get Elliot’s nipples pierced. Now, mine bear small stainless captive bead rings and Leo bites down on the side of my neck, just behind my ear.
It’s all I can do to keep my knees from unhinging ri
ght there. He knows my body so damned well it’s nearly terrifying.
I love it.
And him.
Once the piercer gives us care instructions, along with a couple of bottles of saline solution Leo also purchased, he steps out and leaves us alone.
Leo turns me in his arms and cups my face, staring down at me. From the way his brown eyes look a little too bright in this light, and as dark now as a black cup of coffee, I know me doing this for him is an important step to him, maybe even more than I realized.
His voice sounds deep, hoarse, and brims with emotion. “I love you so fucking much, baby.” His thumbs stroke my cheekbones. “Thank you for coming back to me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m kind of fond of you two chuckleheads. Someone has to keep your asses in line.” He answers my smirk with one of his own.
“I think Stella now hates you more than me, baby.”
“I hope so. I have a feeling Grace Martin does, too.”
His smile fades. “Be careful with her and her so-called ‘friends.’ Especially the ones from The Family.”
We’ve slipped into serious territory. His voice has cleared and sounds measured, deliberate.
“Don’t withhold info from me, Leo.” He’s already told me some darkly juicy tidbits about her, so I would know the kind of person I’m dealing with.
“Some things I cannot tell you, baby. You know that. You need plausible deniability. I’m expendable—you aren’t.”
“Wait, what?” I grab his hands, holding them. “You’re not expendable, Leo.” Something akin to panic threatens to wash through me.
“Yeah, I am. You are Elliot’s Higher Power now. If I didn’t think you could handle it, you wouldn’t be there. There are things I cannot tell you right now, or maybe ever. Maybe you’ll never need to know them. What you will need to know beyond what I’ve already told you, I’ll tell you at that time.”
“How can I protect him if I don’t know?”
“All you need to know is if someone says they’re a close friend of Stella or Grace, keep them from ever being alone with Elliot. Period.”
I hate that he won’t tell me everything, even though I understand why and grudgingly agree with his rationale. “The Family’s ramping up another run at him, aren’t they?”
He nods. “You put a kibosh on it by denying Stella her plus-one this weekend. They’ve already tried making passes through your background and they’re coming up empty, other than your parents. I already put it out there that the president considers you family, though. I tipped off a few well-placed sources about that phone call she made to your mom.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I wanted people to know if they ever try to touch you in bad ways that they will trigger a bunch of information landmines that will take them out.”
That terrifies me, but I also know he’s right. There’s literally nothing in my life, except my bad blood with my parents, that can be leveraged against me.
He releases my face so he can hold my hands. “You don’t need to know the hows or whys, baby. Just keep doing what you’re doing, focusing on him. I know he’s safe with you, and that’s the best I can ask unless or until he lets me marry him. But never forget I. Am. Expendable.” I hate the quiet firmness behind those last three words.
It’s difficult to shove back the rumbling disquiet in my gut. “How does that work?”
He knows what I mean. “If something came up, you’d know. Because I would take any actions required to protect him and you, both. If I ever need to do that, you will stand by Elliot and say whatever’s necessary to insulate the two of you from me. Period. That’s an order.”
“I’m not asking you to sacrifice yourself for me, Leo. We stand or fall together.”
He sadly smiles. “That’s not how the political world spins, and you damn well know it. You once told me that you weren’t cut out for DC, but you’re wrong. I watch you, I watch the people watching you, and you are more suited for what you’re doing than anyone I know, except maybe Chris, Kev, and Shae, and myself.”
“Why?”
“Because you know how to be ruthless, and you look and act fucking innocent. You’re tougher than most of the people in this city, but no one realizes it, and that’s yet another strength. People always underestimate you. You seamlessly blend in. You play to that, sometimes consciously. You’re also dedicated to someone besides yourself, which is something no one outside our small trust circle understands.
“I have access to resources you cannot be tied to. All anyone really has proof of is we were roommates and we’re friends and coworkers. If they ever FOIA our security clearance paperwork, which is currently protected by executive privilege, they’ll see there’s a past relationship there. That’s all that can be tied to us on paper. Nothing illegal about any of that.
“Because no one knows you own Elliot, that lack of proof is a natural firewall. Do some of the guys on The Shift think Elliot and I are or were an item? Maybe. That’ll never get out, though, because it’s not on paper anywhere that we’re anything other than really good friends. People leak anonymous shit all the time, but none of them are stupid enough to ever cross me. I can burn too many of them in return, and they know I’d tie the leak back to them. That’s why nothing’s ever leaked about Chris, Kev, and Shae. That’s another reason why Chris wanted me next to them. Not just to protect them, but because he knows I’m a fail-safe. Mutually assured destruction.”
He looks down, his gaze settling on my new jewelry. While still holding my hands, he reaches up and gives the rings a gentle flick, making me hiss with a velvety dark mix of pleasure-filled pain that fills his face with an evil smile.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he whispers.
“Stop distracting me.”
His smile fades. “Keep doing what you’re doing. The way you’re doing it. Tell me if anyone gets too pushy outside of Grace and Stella, so I can look into it. That’s all you need to know, baby, and it’s all I’ll ever tell you unless or until you need to know more.” He gives my hands a final squeeze before releasing them and handing me my shirt. “Let’s get moving. Mom and Dad are expecting us.”
I carefully don my shirt, now highly aware of my nipples. It’s almost enough to distract me from Leo’s words, and I’m left wondering if the timing of his statement was deliberate to help prevent me from pushing back harder.
Not that he’d probably admit it. He’s had his say and drawn a line.
He also knows I’ll toe it.
Because, unfortunately, I know he’s absolutely right.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Late March
I’ve been back in Washington for a year now, and it’s hard to believe I ever left.
My life is so deeply entwined with Elliot’s that we literally can finish each other’s sentences. It feels totally right cuddling on the sofa in the den in the evenings while Elliot lies there, his head in my lap, while he reads briefing materials for the next day.
Don’t get me wrong. I know Elliot loves Leo, and Leo loves him, but I can look back twelve months and see where Elliot has a completely different and deeper dynamic with me in many ways that he’s never had with Leo.
To Leo’s credit, he’s never complained about that, either. He’s never been anything but loving and supportive to both of us, even when it means he’s alone most of the time.
In his mind, his most precious possessions aren’t lonely, and they’re safe and happy, and therefore he’s happy.
He’ll always put himself last.
I guess that’s why neither Elliot nor I can ever let go of him.
Now that we have Iowa behind us, the GOP field is reduced to only three viable contenders, and all caucuses and polls are showing Elliot comfortably ahead of any potential GOP candidate, I relax a little.
Only a little. I refuse to grow complacent or allow Elliot to think he can skate. If I do that, I’ve failed him.
We set up a rigorous weekend campaign schedule making
stops in every damn state in the nation. We won’t ignore flyover country, because it would make Elliot look like he’s forgotten his roots. If anything, we spend more time in Midwest states, because I need local media outlets on his side, even if he is a Democrat and those areas traditionally trend toward conservative candidates.
Plus there’s still the nation’s work to do, and Elliot is far from a decorative figurehead in President Samuels’ administration.
Unfortunately, Grace Martin’s been particularly persistent as of late. To the point that I confer with Leo and decide to offer Stella an olive branch when I find a perfect opening in Elliot’s schedule. A Monday meeting gets cancelled late the Friday before, but I keep that fact concealed from the public.
President Samuels is away on a trip to a UN humanitarian summit in Geneva, and took a goodly chunk of the national press with her because the kids are also going. Family vacation time, and the press eats that shit up with a spoon.
Leo’s with them, too.
That means things are quiet in DC that Monday, with little chance of the press covering what I’m going to set up. I know the perfect restaurant, one that is open tonight, but traditionally Mondays are reserved for high-profile clients only. You must have a reservation.
No press allowed, either. The staff and facility are pre-cleared by Secret Service, because of the frequency of its use for just this reason. It’s one of the few establishments where they can schedule drop-in meals for the highest-tier protectees without needing several days’ notice first.
When I talked to Leo on Friday, he coached me about what to do. First, I call the restaurant and obtain a nine p.m. reservation for four. Obviously, they’ll always find room for POTUS or VPOTUS, even if they were fully booked. They also have no problems agreeing to my other special requests regarding the evening, including preferred table and instructions about the vice president’s meal.
Next, I arrange the logistics with Elliot’s detail. Easy-peasy, that.
Finally, I call Stella’s private cell from my private cell. At first, I’m not sure she’ll even pick up, which would also suit me just fine. I launch into my pitch as soon as she answers, without any preamble.
Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2) Page 48
