Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2)

by Lesli Richardson

  Cue the balloons and streamers.

  Unlike other speeches Elliot’s given, I personally wrote all three of Elliot’s speeches for tonight without input from the other speechwriters. We needed three because of the contingencies: victory, concession, and too close to call.

  Needless to say, the victory speech was the longest of all.

  Even better? He carried Nebraska by twelve points, which was a larger margin than I and the pollsters had predicted by five points. Meaning next week, I’ll be crunching exit polling data compared to actual votes tallied to see if I can spot the discrepancy. To find out if it was people lying in the exit polls, or we didn’t have pollsters distributed properly to give us a more accurate reflection, or what.

  Because we’ll need to know this in four years. We’ll need to be ready. The GOP will have four years to groom and field a better candidate than Boone. Likely a governor, because the GOP’s best and brightest congressional talent in both the House and the Senate are increasingly jumping ship to Independent or even to the Democrats. There are several moderate Republican state executives, however, who are younger, who look good on TV, and who aren’t carrying much in the way of personal baggage to sideline their hopes of higher office.

  The other thing we have to worry about is the increasingly hard slide to the far left among the Democrats. Just as the Tea Party signaled a sea change that dragged the GOP too far to the right and alienated critical voters, we also have to worry about Democratic Socialists and others dragging us too far from center in the other direction and doing the same thing.

  The majority of voters, regardless of which party they’re registered with, tend to fall close to center. Hence the exploding shift to Independent in voter registration among people understandably disgusted with both parties.

  But the vocal minorities in both parties can irreparably damage relationships with those necessary, centrist voters if the parties don’t actually listen to those centrist voters. Radical base voters in either major party might skew a primary or mid-term in your favor, but they won’t necessarily win you a general election. It’s capturing and holding the valuable centrist voters.

  Kevin Markos steps up next to me and pats me on the back. “Congratulations. It’s your problem now.” He smirks.

  I laugh. “Thanks. I think.”

  He drops his voice. “He’s good. Just do what we talked about. Nurture those relationships with staffers, don’t fuck them over any more than necessary, and encourage him to give in even when he doesn’t want to so he can strong-arm support when he critically needs it. It’s not easy, but it is simple.”

  “I will.”

  “And you can always pick my brain when you need it. Keep me on speed-dial.”

  “Hell, I’m keeping your nameplate on an office in the West Wing.”

  He snorts. “Won’t serve, even if asked, sorry. I’ll take a deputy special counsel title, if you want me to have 24/7/365 access, just in case, but that’s a resounding hell, no to the office.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Don’t worry. Casey has this covered. She’s damned good. See? You nailed that decision on the first try. Trust your instincts.”

  “Thanks.”

  It’s after two a.m. when we finally leave the ballroom and return to the residence. Elliot’s exhausted, but he’s still coasting an adrenaline high from his win.

  I’m just exhausted. I feel…numb. No doubt everything will hit me tomorrow morning, once I’ve had a few hours of sleep to process. After we’re safely locked inside the residence and the alarm is set, Leo and Elliot head toward the stairs.

  I stand there in the foyer, staring at my surroundings, trying to…process.

  Leo’s already three steps up when he realizes I’m not with them. “Baby boy, are you coming?”

  “I’ll be right there, Sir.” That he didn’t put us both on our knees there in the foyer tells me he’s exhausted, too.

  They finally continue up the stairs.

  I close my eyes and remember what it felt like stepping inside this house eight years ago.

  How desperate I felt to make everything as perfect as I could.

  Because I wanted Elliot to like me. So that he wouldn’t tell Leo to get rid of me.

  Because I was too blind back then to see that it wasn’t a problem. At all. Because Elliot was already in love with me, and neither I nor Leo knew it.

  Next week, I’ll start decorating for Christmas, and Leo plans to be here to help. No trip to California for me this year. Probably not for Leo, either.

  There’s way too much to do with a transition to choreograph.

  Elliot will fly out to Nebraska on Thanksgiving Day with Stella to eat with their family, and I’ll be going with them. I want Leo to come, too, but that’s still up in the air, depending on President Samuels’ schedule.

  Walking through the house, I end up in the den, standing behind the leather sectional sofa that’s been the sight of plenty of fucking over the past eight years.

  Admittedly, one of the reasons I selected it. I wanted a piece of furniture roomy enough for the three of us and easy to clean.

  I think about all the memories Elliot and I have made in here since my return.

  The sight of Grace’s dead face flashes through my mind and I struggle to erase it.

  I’ve had nightmares. Most of them involving Elliot being charged with rape because I didn’t kill her and I somehow erased the video proving she was lying, or Leo somehow getting blamed and nothing I said changing the detectives’ minds.

  Varieties along those lines, all of them sharing the central theme that the men I love are forced to atone for my sins.

  That truly would be Hell.

  How I long for the days when my nightmares were of gunshots in the club.

  I finally head upstairs, just to find them both still dressed. Elliot’s sitting on the padded bench, his arms wrapped around Leo and Leo holding him, massaging his scalp.

  “There’s my baby boy,” Leo says, smiling.

  Except I see the exhaustion there.

  I’d really hoped for marathon fucking tonight, except…no.

  I’m not even sure if I have the energy to get up off the floor if I kneel.

  I walk over to them and wrap my arms around Leo from behind and deeply inhale. I rest my hands on Elliot’s shoulders and scrunch my fingers through his blazer.

  “We aren’t going to be swinging from the chandelier tonight,” I finally say when neither of them make any moves or break the silence.

  Elliot snorts. “Thank god you said it first. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

  “What time do we need to be up in the morning?” Leo asks.

  “We can sleep in until ten. He needs to be at the White House by eleven for a photo opp with President Samuels, Ciro, and everyone. I already asked Secret Service to shoot to kill for anything less than NatSec emergencies.”

  Elliot snorts again, and even Leo chuckles.

  I’m so tired, it takes a sec for me to realize what I just did. “I meant Vice President-elect Bardales. Dammit.” The man’s insisted I call him Ciro so many times during the campaign that I’m going to have to retrain myself.

  This time, Leo laughs, turning in our embrace so he’s facing me and can hold me. “It’s okay, baby boy. No one expects you to be perfect all the time.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t make that mistake in front of staff or press.” I bury my face against his throat and inhale again.

  I’ve missed him so much.

  I’ve missed Him.

  He nuzzles the top of my head. “You won’t, baby. You’re a pro. You’ve got this. You could probably give Kev or Casey a run for their money for chief of staff.”

  “Red.” I look up. “Don’t want it, can’t make me.”

  “But you serve at the pleasure of the president.” He smiles.

  “OooOOOooh,” Elliot teases. “Good thing I’m not an evil asshole.”

  We stand there for another lo
ng moment. Once again, I break the silence. “I’m going to fall asleep standing right here if we don’t go to bed.”

  Ten minutes later, we’re snuggled together, Leo in the middle. He’s spooned around me and Elliot’s spooned around him.

  Did I think there was marathon sex in my immediate future?

  That was before I realized how bone-weary I feel right now. The bubble holding the first question mark that hovered over our future path has popped. For at least the next four years, our lives revolve around Elliot and the Oval Office. We’ll assume eight. That’s easiest.

  Surprisingly enough, as terrified as I feel that I might fuck up and let Elliot down, I also feel a kind of peace I never realized I’d been missing. Elliot’s finally achieved his dream, his zenith.

  I will never be anything other than a footnote in history, if even that, but I helped him get here.

  Me, and Leo.

  The most important man in the world not only loves me…he wants me.

  Damned if that isn’t my zenith.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  January

  A different kind of hectic insanity takes over our lives, but this one isn’t overshadowed by a frantic intensity with uncertain results. It’s not filled with passive-aggressive posturing by two conflicting administrations trying to keep our country running.

  Four days before the inauguration, Shae’s still using the Oval Office for official functions but she’s mostly working from upstairs in the residence, which is nearly cleared out and ready for Elliot to move in. He could be using the president’s private study in the West Wing if he wants to, but he’s still working out of his current office on the other side of the West Wing.

  Which is fine, because it gives the work crews extra time to paint and redecorate. The kids and Chris are already living in their new house, while Shae and Kev are staying in one of the guest rooms upstairs. The night before the inauguration, they’ll spend the night upstairs and Chris and the kids will drive over early the next morning. I know Shae, Kev, and Chris are eager for all of them to be living full-time in their new home, finally out of the spotlight, for the most part.

  Tonight is our last night sleeping at Number One Observatory Circle, because the master bedroom will be ready in the residence upstairs tomorrow, even though Elliot and I will be staying at Blair House until Inauguration Day.

  Yet another way I’ve reduced my stress, because all our things will be moved out of the vice president’s residence early, all the redecorating completed, and the Bardales’ family’s belongings will already be in place by the morning of Inauguration Day.

  Usually, the incoming administration doesn’t get to do anything before noon on Inauguration Day. Fortunately, since Shae and Elliot are friends, she wanted to get the process started sooner for him and take some of the logistical stress off me. Plus, it helped them get the kids settled sooner in their new house over their winter school break, so they could have as little disruption as possible to their normal schedule once school started again after New Year’s.

  We’re retaining most of the existing West Wing staff, since they are already known quantities. A few people have been promoted or shuffled, and some campaign workers were brought in to fill other positions, but the transition is relatively seamless and with few bumps.

  Meaning we’ll hit the ground running on day one.

  Leo will keep his office upstairs in the residence—which I am currently working out of tonight, because Leo is attending a function with Shae. I, however, will have a decent-sized office down in the West Wing, between the President’s private study and what will be Casey’s office. Since Kev’s still working in the chief of staff’s office, however, the changeover from it being his office to Casey’s won’t happen until Inauguration Day.

  How’d I score an office like that, when Leo’s is this tiny thing all the way up here?

  Well, Leo wasn’t sleeping with POTUS, for starters. He also had a desk in the office just outside the Oval, a space shared with Cleo, the president’s secretary.

  She’ll be staying on, too, only now she’s Casey’s secretary. Shae offered to let her come to work for her, but when Casey asked Cleo to stay on, she accepted. Fortunately, Cleo knows that being the secretary to chief of staff is no less of an honor—and every bit as important a role—as being the president’s secretary. Suzanne is moving over from the VP’s office to be Elliot’s secretary. Institutional memory will be preserved in that way, too. Cleo can help Suzanne get settled in and answer any questions we have.

  Also, my office will technically be shared with Declan, for now, and listed as his office, even though he’ll rarely be using it until closer to the time for him to officially take over from Ben. Ben’s getting a new office, moving from the Vice President’s suite of offices into one on the other side of Casey’s office. Once Declan takes over from him, that will be Declan’s office. I’ll still have Leo’s desk in the office just outside the Oval, but Casey prefers I have an actual office of my own near hers. There’s a lot of work I’ll be doing for her and Elliot that will take tasks off her plate, and she’d rather I have a door I can close and the privacy with which to do those tasks.

  It’s three-card-monte, government office version.

  I look up at the light rap on the office doorway to find Kev standing there and wearing a knowing smirk. “Got a minute?”

  Waving him in, I sit back, remove my glasses, and set them on the desk. “For you? Sure. Always.”

  I have learned so damned much from this guy, owe him more than I can ever repay. If it wasn’t for his guidance and advice throughout all of this, I’d be a disaster, and so would Elliot.

  He steps in and shuts the door behind him. I don’t miss that he locks it. I realize he’s carrying a messenger bag, and he steps over to the chairs in front of the desk. He sets the messenger bag in one of them and seats himself in the other.

  “I wanted to have a private word with you before everything gets crazy in a couple of days.” He opens the bag and produces a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and two glasses. A soft chuckle rumbles free. “Crazier.”

  “A private word?”

  He turns those gorgeous baby blues on me and I practically melt. Yeah, I’m a sucker for blue eyes. His are a different shade than Elliot’s, though. He wears glasses, too. Maybe I picked up Leo’s eyeglass fetish, I don’t know.

  I am trainable, I guess.

  If Kev and I were both single, I’d gladly drop to my knees for the man.

  Or let him drop to his for me. Hey, we could switch things up.

  Thank goodness I have two men who have no intention of letting me go—again—and Kev has two partners who’d probably shank any bitch who tried to get overly friendly with him.

  Including one who still has the nuclear codes, and the other who was professionally trained in how to stop threats and made it his actual career.

  “You and Leo are now proud members of the extremely exclusive ‘Presidential Owners’ club. Your membership cards and commemorative pins will be in the mail.” His smile widens as he removes the wrapper from around the top of the bottle and twists the stopper out. “Which is why I sprang for this.” He pours two generous servings before replacing the stopper.

  “Do I get a care and feeding manual, too? Because that would be damned helpful.” I lean forward and take the proffered glass.

  He chuckles. “I’m not done writing it yet. Been kinda busy the past ten years.” His smile fades and he lightly clinks glasses with me. “To steady nerves and the patience of Job.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” I take a sip. I’m not much of a drinker, but Leo and Elliot have taught me the finer art of sipping spirits, and this one is extremely smooth.

  Kev settles in. “How you feeling?”

  I lean back in my chair. “Between us?”

  “Always. Being POTUS is the second-loneliest job in the world. Want to know what the loneliest is?”

  “Owning a president?”

  He rais
es his glass to me. “See? You’re a smart man. You got this. And yes, any time you need an ear, you can always count on me for counsel and confidentiality. So. How are you feeling?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “That’s not surprising.” He takes a sip. “You really love him though, don’t you? I don’t mean as a friend—I mean the way you love Leo.”

  I slowly nod. “Yeah. This got way more than complicated.”

  How did I even get here? Eight years ago, I was a grad student given the opportunity of a lifetime. A complete innocent when it came to the greater world at large.

  And now…

  Now, I’m an experienced, cut-throat DC political operative who puts the most powerful man in the world on his knees and fucks his throat.

  Take that, Mom and Dad.

  I swirl my glass under my nose and inhale the sharp, sweet aroma. This is really good whisky.

  It feels a shame to waste it on…

  Well, me.

  Kev’s studying me. “Leo’s proud as hell of you guys.”

  A familiar swell of melancholy rolls through me. “He’s the one who should be doing this job.”

  Kev cocks his head. “Why do you say that?”

  “Do I need to spell it out? He’s our owner. He’s once again relegated to the sidelines. If he was here, he’d finally get to spend the time with Elliot that he deserves.” I realize I’ve reached up and touched my daith while talking. I do that a lot.

  “He couldn’t do as good a job as you are.”

  I scoff at that. “Uh, he’s got over eight years on the job as a presidential body man. I think he’s got a lot more experience than me.”

  “With Shae, yes. You know your boy better than Leo does. For starters, you’ve spent more time with him.”

  “But Leo’s been in a relationship with him longer.”

  Kev shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. You know Elliot better. Don’t kid yourself—Elliot totally belongs to you. Or, he belongs to you first. Never forget that the heart’s not a finite pie. Just like I ended up knowing Shae better in more ways than Chris despite their years together. Your job is to know Elliot better than Leo does. I see the way Elliot looks at you, and he needs you. Doesn’t mean you both don’t love Leo—I know you do. But like Shae’s my girl, Elliot is your boy.”