Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kev’s words ring in my ears for the rest of the afternoon. I spot Leo a couple of times, from a distance, but I avoid close contact with him.
Though I’m sure there were plenty of times Leo managed to catch sight ofmein close quarters, now that I know what a tricky, sneaky, stalky fucker he is. President Samuels is in the White House all day today, because she’s keeping a close eye on developments in the kidnapping of the journalists. It’s still unknown if the women are alive or not, but I know there is a secret covert ops team trying to locate and retrieve them.
To make life seem even more surreal, the president has an event at the kids’ school this evening and will be attending that, at least for a couple of hours, meaning Leo will be occupied.
Also meaning Elliot and I will have time alone, uninterrupted, after we meet with campaign staff this evening before we go home. It’ll be our last meeting at the temporary space. Secret Service signed off on our first choice, and the lease paperwork was supposed to be signed this afternoon by the campaign manager.
Elliot is reluctant to have a large number of people over to the house, and I get it. He’s protective of his privacy and doesn’t want anyone inside the residence who doesn’t need to be there. The only way he will host functions there is because he can have Secret Service standing watch in the hallway upstairs, and in the doorway to his den, and keep people out of those spaces.
Now that I’m living with him, there will be absolutely no official overnight guests at the residence. Anyone will stay at Blair House. Like his parents.
That doesn’t count Leo, of course.
Stella has called me three times in the past week, whining that she wants to come over for dinner and bring a “friend” to meet Elliot.
Fortunately, Elliot’s schedule is packed because of the campaign.
At least, that’s what I tell her.
I’m pretty sure she hates me now.
Ask me if Jordan cares?
Spoiler alert—Jordan does not care.
I don’t bother checking the alarm log when we return home a little before eleven p.m. that night. It doesn’t matter when Leo was there this morning, overnight—whatever.
I need to push past that.
Now that we’re locked in, it’s time to do this. We head upstairs and after I go through our ritual of getting Elliot undressed and removing Duck, I put him on his knees on the floor and buckle his collar and wrist cuffs on him. The day collar can stay on, too.
Then I help him up and onto the bed. I strip, and then we sit cross-legged, face to face and holding hands.
No distractions.
No Leo.
Just us.
I take a deep breath and squeeze his hands. “El and Jor time.”
He nods.
“I love you.” We’ve said it to each other many times now in a variety of languages taught to us by our owner.
This timefeelsdifferent. Like it’s a vow.
Elliot has this adorably bashful smile, usually accompanied by his cheeks flushing, like they are now. “I love you, too.”
“Not just as a friend. I don’t want this to end once you’re out of office. I want this for life.”
He squeezes my hands as he nods. “Me, too.”
We stare into each other’s eyes. “I will put you first in my life. I need to be first in your life, too. Not to say,” I quickly add, “that Leo can’t or won’t be part of our lives. And once you’re out of office, we can let him be Leo.
“But this is…huge. I can’t have him playing some sort of control game, and doing what he does, and running all over me when it comes to you and me. We’ll be together all the time, literally. When you win, there is no downtime until you’re out of office. Not really. We’re on 24/7/365. I can’t have him getting pissed off because I need President Woodley’s attention for a phone call, but he wants you in pet mode.”
