“Hurry up, Master, or we won’t have time to eat.”
“I know,” I grumble to his knowing chuckle.
He tolerates me being a morning grouch. He’s definitely better at mornings than I am.
Forty-five minutes later, we’re picking up our order because Daniel placed it online before we left the house. The heavenly aroma of the breakfast sandwiches and hot, strong Cuban coffee help finish waking me up as we find seats in the restaurant’s small dining room.
“Better?” he asks as I take a bite of what is a succulent and perfectly made ham, egg, and cheese croissant sandwich.
I nod. “Sorry I’m not better at mornings.”
He wears a playful smile. “At least you admit it, Lee.”
I know he wants to call me Master but doesn’t dare. There are several congressional staffers and interns in here with us, not to mention a congressman, three reporters, and who knows who else.
“How late do you think you’ll be tonight?” I ask as he starts scrolling through his work phone with his free hand while holding his breakfast sandwich in the other.
“I want to say not too late, but, honestly? I don’t know. Things could go sideways on me today.” He glances my way. “Apparently, leadership wants to have some meetings about our agenda tonight ahead of Samuels taking office.”
There goes my half-formed plan to order us a romantic dinner as takeout from one of our favorite restaurants and curl up with him on the sofa. “Keep me posted.” I haven’t checked my e-mail or schedule yet. I don’t want to. I want to delay immersing myself in bullshit as long as possible.
He sets his work phone down and studies me. When he next speaks, he drops his voice, mindful of our current location. “You all right?”
I shrug. “First day.” I take another bite of my sandwich to stave off another question.
He watches me, his brow slightly furrowed, but then he glances at his watch and starts eating. I can see the chief of staff already returning, my sweet slave retreating to the shadows until he can come out and play again. Daniel Jason Walker-Davis is a sexy motherfucker, but he’s also a hard-ass who doesn’t suffer fools lightly. He expects everyone else in the office to put in the amount of effort he does, and woe to the worker who fails to live up to those expectations.
I’m sure I’ll end up hearing the same old “joke” several times from my fellow Senators before the end of the week:When can I talk to you about hiring your hubby away from Effings and into my office?
To which I’ll want to tell them to go fuck themselves, but will instead smile and say that Daniel makes his own decisions, and suggest they talk to him directly.
He will, of course, tell them to go fuck themselves, although not in so many words, and in such a polite way that they won’t even recognize that’s what they’ve been told and enjoy the trip.
After we finish, we’re heading to the Hill when his work phone rings. He pulls it from his overcoat pocket, looks at it, then quickly kisses me. “Gotta take this. Have a good day. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He answers the call. “Yeah, what do you have? … Okay, I’m on my way. ETA five. What else…?” He flashes me one last smile and speeds up as he practically starts jogging toward the building where Effings’ office lays.
My heart painfully tugs as I watch him, and isn’t that an answer, too?
That my heart is with that man, not with this job.
“Senator Davis.”
I pause at the man’s voice and turn to find Kevin Markos heading my way. When the chief of staff to the president-elect of the United States wants to speak with you, it behooves you to make time to listen.
Kevin used to be an anchor for conservative the conservative FNB network, until he had an on-air meltdown a couple of years ago, where he lambasted his fellow conservatives for their inaction and political malfeasance.
Then, somehow, he ended up being Shae-Lynn Samuels’ pick to run her campaign, and her chief of staff after she won.
The man’s hunky and brilliant. I would list him as my HPF if I thought there was any chance in hell of me ever being able to nail him. He’s got an ex-wife, though, who was also an FNB anchor and is now Samuels’ press secretary. Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but he’s been seen dating women and there’s not so much as a whiff of a rumor of him being gay, and his first hire as chief of staff was to bring his ex-wife on as press secretary.
“Mr. Markos. Congratulations.” We shake.
“Kev. And thanks. Can we walk and talk?”
“Sure. Call me Liam.” I glance around. “Should I be flattered or worried?”
“Yes.” He chuckles and drops his voice after also taking a quick glance around. “The president-elect is interested in talking with you in private about this session’s legislative agenda, if you can spare her some time.”
