* * * *
New Year’s sees us celebrating it together, with Leo pulling me into his arms at the stroke of midnight to kiss me.
Sad to say this is the first time in my life I’ve had someone besides Mimi and her friends to celebrate it with.
Over the next several weeks, Leo takes me shopping for suits, and we go with Elliot to get fitted for tuxes for the inaugural balls.
Leo, of course, gets the final say on everything.
I score brownie points with Elliot when I stand watch outside the dressing rooms so Leo can fool around with Elliot inside them. Later that night, Leo rewards me by tying me up and spanking my ass.
Yay!
Leo also informs me I will be staying with him at Blair House before the inauguration, sharing a room with him. A double room, meaning people won’t assume we’re sleeping together, but it’s next door to Elliot’s room.
I feel…conflicted about that. I’d almost rather be by myself at Leo’s—ourapartment—and not intrude on Elliot’s moment. Being magnanimous isn’t a hardship because I can see what this all means to Elliot.
He literally has very little privacy now. Everything he does is in a spotlight.
Unfortunately, I’m also on a few radars. My name’s now listed on the incoming roster of East Wing personnel, and people are starting to introduce themselves to me.
Especially single women.
Single women who apparently think by dating me they’ll be closer to the center of power… or who are obviously angling for a way to meet the incoming vice president by befriending me.
Now I understand exactly what Leo meant that night outside my hotel room when he posed the hypothetical about someone offering me a lot of money to wear a wire. It’s not as far-fetched as I originally thought.
Leo’s taught me a lot, though. How to carry myself, how to professionally brush off requests without being rude—or how to be terse, if they’re asking something of me that would be an outright ethics violation.
This isliterallya whole new world I’ve found myself immersed in, an alternate reality. My nerves feel close to snapping.
Three days before the inauguration, on my way home from meetings, I stop by the office late that night, when only Secret Service agents are present. There, I lock myself in a washroom and have a mini meltdown.
I don’t want Leo to see me cry, but an acute case of imposter’s syndrome nearly cripples me right now. I turn on the sink and let it run while I sit huddled on the floor in the corner, my arms wrapped tightly around me, trying to quietly sob so the agents in the office can’t hear me.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door. I hear Bob’s voice, the agent who’s been driving me today. “Mr. Walsh, are you all right, sir?”
I choke back a laugh. How ridiculous is it that they’re callingme“sir”? This guy today actually worked with Leo and is nearly at the end of his career as a protective agent. We were talking today during our morning drive, and he’s looking forward to transferring to a teaching position with the agency, one that will give him more time at home with his family.
“I’m fine.” I wipe my eyes with my hands. “Started dealing with e-mails and lost track of time. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
But when I finally blow my nose, wash my face, and pull myself together so I can open the door, it’s Leo standing there waiting for me, and the other agents I know are in the office are nowhere to be seen. He opens his arms to me and I…fall into them.
Crying.
He steps into the bathroom with me and locks us inside. “Shh, baby boy,” he whispers into my hair. “It’s all right. I know this is overwhelming, but you’re doing great.”
“Great? I’m a frickingwreck!”
His soft chuckle rumbles through me. “I know. I’d be worried about you if you didn’t feel stressed.”
“And great, now I’ve got Secret Service calling my boyfriend and telling him I’m crying in a bathroom.”
Another chuckle. “No, they didn’t. I stopped by because I forgot my tablet charger on my desk. I realized Bob was here, so I asked where you were. I knew you weren’t home since I haven’t received a text from the alarm. They all pointed down here.”
That makes me feel only moderately less stupid. “Oh.”
