He lost the will to live when he lost her. He’d been in literal survival mode on the island, and then tossed into political survival mode once he returned home. Casey hoped having me might finally allow him to start healing for real.
I now understand exactly what she meant by that. Having been allowed inside his inner sanctum, I am legit terrified to see how fragile he really was all this time.
At any time, we could have easily lost him to his pain.
I reach up and gently scratch his scalp while he cries on my shoulder, and now I have my answer.
I know for certain if Casey one day forces me to choose…
We’ll all lose if that rift ever forms, but it’ll be George who ends up with me. Because Casey is tougher than me and George put together. She’s survived multiple losses and darkness in her life and every instance toughens her, hardens her. She always emerges on the other side of walking through those crucibles tempered and stronger for it.
Plus, I know despite his public persona that George can’t survive any more loss in his life. It will break him in irreparable ways.
I’m neither strong enough nor willing to live with that guilt, even if it means I endure the pain of losing Casey because of it.
Chapter Thirteen
Then
There are some events which remain forever seared in your memory, even if you wish you could forget them. Those “where were you” moments that all humans experience. Some of them shared with a multitude of others, like hearing about the assassination of a public figure.
Some of them more…private, and personally painful.
I’m twenty-seven years old. In the four years I’ve been in practice, I’ve already made a name for myself. Not just within the firm, but in the greater Nashville area. I have a damned good win record already, mostly because I’ve taken on several cases others thought couldn’t be won, then proceeded to make bank with my fees from the payouts when judgments went in my clients’ favor.
Eventually, I’ll buy a house, but not right now. I have the nice car, the suits, the other trappings of my trade, and I’m building my savings and retirement accounts. I might still feel like a faker—believe me, I’m shocked most of all when I pull a case out of the fire and end up with a ruling in my client’s favor—but it seems like I’ve successfully masked that fear in front of others.
One day, I’m sure, someone will figure out I don’t belong here and call me out for it, run me off.
I just hope it’s not Casey. I love her, I’m in love with her, and my next big goal is being able to afford a house either in the exclusive community where she and George live, or close enough nearby to only be five minutes away.
That’s another reason I want to save up before I buy.
I want to beworthyof her. That’s not her requirement, that’s mine.
I don’t want to be an embarrassment to her if it ever gets out we’re an item. I don’t want people thinking I’m just some pity fuck, one of countless others, and grifting off her.
I want to be known as the guy who won her heart, with plenty of concrete reasons toshowthem allwhyshe loves me besides the one thing I can never tell anyone about—the fact that I’m happily her slave.
Another reason for me to wait to buy a house? At some point soon, George wants to run for Governor. I know Casey will be his chief of staff if he wins, and she’s already told me I’ll be working on staff, too, when that happens. Which means no cushy attorney’s salary. I’ll have to be able to afford to live within my means, or within my savings.
Thus, I wait to buy a house.
Today, we’re working at the law firm. I’m sitting in Casey’s office late that morning, reviewing and revising a rapidly growing list of items that need George’s immediate attention as Speaker of the Senate when he returns from his trip overseas.
That’s when a phone call is put through to Casey’s desk extension.
It aggravates her, because she specifically asked for no interruptions.
Meaning she has plans formethis morning. Especially since she had me lock the door behind me when I arrived.
“Goddammit,” she mutters, glancing my way. “Sorry, boy.”
I sit back to wait while she answers and pulls a mask into place. “Casey-Marie Blaine.”
I watch her as I always do. One of her many masks, this one the professional, takes-no-shit attorney persona. Very similar to her Ma’am mask, except without the playful, sexy heat added to the mix. Her chief of staff mask is nearly identical to her attorney mask, only with less swearing around other government employees, so she doesn’t trigger an ethics investigation.
Somehow, I resist the urge to reach down and adjust my thickening cock in my slacks.
