This is the first time since the day the news broke about the man’s death that Declan has mentioned Junior.
“It’s about a lot of old things,” I hedge, although Junior is wrapped up in my baggage by default.
“How long do you want me to wait at your place?”
I realize this means he will obey, even though it wasn’t an order. “I’ll text you the all-clear. Could be a couple of hours.” I harshly laugh. “Or he could tell me to go to hell and won’t take long at all.”
“Pro-con this for me.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said. “Best- and worst-case scenarios of your talk with George.” This is Declan the attorney, the deputy chief of staff, not my boy, not George’s boy.
“I don’t know what the best case is. Worst? George is disgusted by me and fires me and never speaks to me again.”
He blinks, obviously needing a moment to process that. “What?”
I shrug. “It’s reallyoldfucking baggage, Dec. There’s a reason I never told you much about my past.”
“Tell menow.”
“You don’t get to decide that!” I realize I’m nearly shouting and drop my voice. “I know if George is okay with it, then you’ll be okay with it.”
“But I love you, and—”
“Iknowyou love me, but don’t bullshit me, Declan. You’rehisnow. Don’t think I don’t realize that. I’ve lost one slave to the man in my life. No need to rub it in that I gave him another one. But he’s not fucking dead, so yay.”
He almost looks hurt, and it takes every ounce of my being not to walk over and hug him, soothe the wounded expression off his handsome face.
“He wants you to be with us,” Declan says.
“I can’t be a submissive, Declan. Ican’t. We can’t have a sustainable relationship, the three of us, just on kinky sex and domestic discipline. And if the two of you are serious about doing this for life with me, then I know you literally cannot answer to two Masters. Meaning he’s won. If he still wants to be with me after tonight, then yay, great.”
“Then do I get to hear the story?”
I say the words I never thought I’d ever say. “I don’t get to decide that—he does.”
Shock fills his gaze as he stares at me for a long moment. “Is that why you asked for this to be a favor instead of ordering me to do it?” I hate that he sounds wounded, hurt, but it can’t be helped.
Ah, my boy is a smart one.
“Yeah.”
He…deflates. “Okay. Yes, Ma’am. I’ll go to your place and wait.”
I finally walk over to him because I can’t stand the pain radiating from him. I pull him into my arms for a hug, nearly crying over the way he buries his face in the crook of my neck the way he’s done countless times before.
“Thank you, boy.” I nuzzle the top of his head. “Hopefully, this will go well. I’d like to think George is an understanding man. If it does, it probably means things are settled for good, and you both get your wish.”
We stand there for several minutes, until he finally kisses the side of my neck and steps back, wiping at his eyes.
I wait until I’m down in my car to start crying.
* * * *
By the time I reach George’s, I’ve pulled myself together. When I let myself in the front door, I hear him even before he reaches the end of the hall.
“Why didn’t you park in the garage? I—oh, hey.” He pulls up short when he realizes it’s me.
