Except when I open my door and walk inside, the place feels…stale.
Dead.
Lonely.
It’s been almost three weeks since Jordan left.
These last three weeks have felt like the longest ten years of my life.
It’s finally starting to sink in that he’s gone and he’s not coming back.
I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do without him. It feels like he’s always been in my life.
Sixyearshe’s been in my life. For half of my relationship with Elliot.
We had more of a relationship than Elliot and I have.
I lock the door behind me, strip, and faceplant into my own bed with my three phones next to me so I can hide from the world for a while.
* * * *
Early Saturday evening, when I let myself in, Elliot’s in the living room and in conversation with three of his staff. They didn’t go on the trip with us.
I know all three of them are terrified of me, though. I made sure to put the fear ofmeinto them early on because they pissed me off during the transition when they tried to blow me off one day.
Yeah, I corrected them immediately.
They think I’m Elliot’s best friend, in addition to who I am in relation to the president. Their bullshit wasn’t enough for me to ask Elliot to reconsider keeping them, though. They’ve worked for him ever since he was in the House, and they worked hard on the campaign.
They just required a little attitude adjustment, was all. They needed to be taught their place in the food chain.
Now,allhis staff know who I am. They also afford me the appropriate respect.
I’m at the top of the food chain, and I will eat them as a snack.
I don’t interrupt them. I wave a hand in greeting and make a point of making noise when I drop my stuff upstairs in the guest room.
I’ll move it once they’re gone. I head downstairs again, bypassing the living room so I don’t disturb them, and go to the kitchen to start cooking. That’ll give Elliot the hint to wrap things up with them.
This is work, so I won’t demand he run them off. He’s the VP and that’s not a joke. He works his ass off. His job is far more than mere PR junkets—he takes point with veteran’s issues for Shae, and is very hands-on in terms of agricultural and trade issues.
He keeps a Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen. I hook my phone to it and start playing our favorite Pandora station. Twenty minutes later, I’ve almost got the chicken deboned and ready to cook when I sense his presence behind me.
I turn, and he’s standing there, leaning in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his slacks. He had an event earlier and he’s still in his button-up and tie, although his collar’s unbuttoned and the tie’s loosened. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he’s traded his contacts for glasses.
He always melts me, looking like that. He always has. Even casually rumpled like this, he’s damned hot, and he’s got me wrapped around his fingers.
There’s the playful smirk that makes my heart skip. “I feel like I should be cooking for you, Master.” He walks over and slips his arms around me from behind, leaning in for a kiss.
In this sanctuary, once we’re alone, he always loosens up.MyElliot can come out for a while.
Damn, I’ve missed him.
“I love cooking for my pet. I wish I could do it more often.” I spot the flash of pain in his eyes and silently curse myself.
“Sorry, Master,” he quietly says.
I wash my hands and turn in his arms to pull him in for a long, sweet kiss. “Turn off that handsome brain of yours. I didn’t mean it like that.” I mean, I totally did, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud. “We’re going to have a nice dinner and spend the evening cuddling and watching TV. And I’ll make us pancakes in the morning.”
