She arches an eyebrow at me. “So that’s a yes?”
WWLD?
Leo would manipulate her to figure out her game.
I finish my drink. “You have my cell number. Text me a time and place. As long as no emergencies crop up, I’ll probably be able to meet you.” I head out, my mind spinning.
I have to find out what her game is because, obviously, her long-term plans include Elliot. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s got to be something political, and Grace understands that she needsmyrubberstamp for Elliot to even listen to her. Stella’s proved to be a liability, so now Grace is trying the direct approach to reach me and get to Elliot.
Not going to let that happen for a variety of reasons. The most important reason being that Grace is a calculating, conniving bitch who I don’t trust a single inch.
Like hell is she getting time alone with Elliot. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to extort him. Not after everything Leo told me he learned about her, and the things I’ve learned on my own since then.
I head to Leo’s so I have a chance to cool off before I return to Elliot. I know Leo won’t be home, because he’s out of town with the president this evening, but it’s my totally safe place to decompress.
As soon as I switch the alarm off and lock the door behind me, I strip completely naked. Then I put on my leather collar and cuffs, grab my cell phones, and climb onto Leo’s bed, where I put myself into a full, formal bow with my head buried in his pillow.
Ahhhh.
Shut up—it works. Since Sir’s given me permission to do things like this, activities that help soothe my soul when He’s not around, I’m going to take advantage of them.
Alone and able to focus, my mind clears, allowing me to think. Leo’s warned me about Grace Martin and some of her previous fuckery. I know for a fact there are more things she’s done that he won’t tell me about. We’re only a couple of months from the election, and life’s getting crazy. No telling what she’s capable of.
I’m willing to bet she’s not up to anything good. Her numbers aren’t that great in Nebraska. She’s up for re-election, so I’m not sure why she’s spending so much time around DC. She should be flying home every chance she gets so she can campaign.
That means Grace feels pretty secure for some reason, even though the polls do not show her ahead by a comfortable margin. In fact, her opponent has been closing the gap for weeks now, doing better with every new poll. Allie Tinesdale, an Independent, has been attending every pep rally and rubber-chicken dinner and American Legion barbecue she can wrangle an invite to. She’s hustling in a way Grace never has and appears hungry for it. The Democrat who’s running, a young moderate by the name of Jace Packer, isn’t even pulling five percent in the polls, although he shows a lot of promise. Once this election is over, I plan to contact him to see if he wants advice for the next election. I won’t be able to work for him, but I can give him pointers.
Nothing wrong with that, right?
Another long, slow, deep inhale fills my lungs with Leo’s scent.
Why would Gracenotcare that her re-election chances are far from guaranteed? She’s totally wrapped up in her identity as a member of Congress. Therehasto be a reason.
Think, Jordan.
No way in hell will I allow Elliot to stump for Grace, if that’s her goal. She’s not loyal to anyone but herself, and she’s pissed off people on both sides of the aisle. Plus, Elliot’s campaign schedule is packed. And she’s a Republican. At this stage of Elliot’s career, I cannot let him endorse anyone from the GOP, unless the other candidate kills kittens for sport, or something heinous like that.
Until I hear Grace out, I can’t prepare my next step. Honestly, I don’t want anything to do with having dinner alone with her in public. I really don’t want pictures of us popping up anywhere, and I have little doubts that she’d stage it so someone photographs us together and then tries to leverage it against me for access to Elliot.
As I kneel on Leo’s bed and breathe my stress away, an idea floats into my mind. Grace will be texting me soon. I’ll simply tell her dinner’s out, but I can stop by her place to talk for a little while. She might be more direct in private, anyway.
Alone.
I’m willing to take that risk, because if she tries to say I made a pass at her, I can trot out a bunch of people and my security clearance forms that all back me up when I say I’m gay. Meaning she’ll look like an idiot.
I have no doubts if she tried that it would backfire on her in a massive way without harming me or casting shadows over Elliot’s campaign.
Already, I feel better, but I stay there for another fifteen minutes. Here, I can feel Leo’s love wrapped around me just as his scent embraces me. I’m sitting up when my personal cell buzzes. When I check, I find a message from Grace.
6pm. How about my place? Any food allergies?
Followed by her address. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to poison me if I had a food allergy.
She can wait for a while. If I answer immediately, it’ll look like I have nothing better to do than to reply to her texts.
Setting my phone aside, I stretch out on Leo’s bed and pull his pillow into my arms. We haven’t been able to spend a chunk of time with Leo in weeks. Nothing more than a few stolen minutes here and there, like my brief interlude with him in his office yesterday, and one evening last week at the residence. On that evening, I had to get Elliot ready for a dinner speech, so we didn’t have time to play. What little time Leo could spend with us that night, I had him focus on Elliot.
Leo promises he’ll make it up to me, but I’m not holding him to that. For starters, he doesn’t “owe” me anything. Elliot needs us focused on him.
