“You just said that was a plus.”
“Yeah, but the downside is he’s now free to say whatever the hell he wants as Mr. Ellis McMurtry. Congressman McMurtry could face sanctions up to and including being expelled from the House for his conduct. Now? He can go on FNB or Fox or whatever two-bit cable news show or podcast will give him five minutes and literally say whatever the hell he wants short of calling for an insurrection or threatening your life and safety. So can Stella.”
“What do you think the chances are of Stella leaving him?”
“Not much,” Leo interjects. We both focus on him. “Here’s what I think,” he continues. “Ellis’ father cut him off. Ellis is hurting for cash from defending his business against multiple attorneys general investigations and from his father squeezing him dry to recover what Ellis appropriated. Ellis probably dangled something over Stella’s head, a promise. Well, now he could be dangling blackmail, too, but his body language showed he was genuinely shocked when I dropped that verbal bomb on them that night. He had no clue about her past.
“My guess is he’s spun her a web of vague promises about some higher-ups in his sphere of influence, and telling her if she hangs around he’ll finagle something for her. Lobbyist position, cushy paid board seat—something. Maybe there was an outright deal arranged contingent upon her staying married to him.”
“Do you think that was in play when she told me that a few months ago?”
He shrugs. “No idea. Anyone else, I’d venture to guess it was a recent development. But with Stella we already know her track record regarding the truth sucks. She could have been playing you by saying that.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. “You don’t think we can keep them in line with the info you have on them?”
“No,” Kayley says.
We all focus on her. “Why not?” I ask.
She grimly smiles. “Because a malignant narcissist will literally burn the world down around them and take themselves with it just to get revenge once they’ve experienced narcissistic injury. Even if it takes years to get their revenge. They will not forget. And they won’t settle for a petty potshot in public, either. At the very least they’ll want to double down with their response. Today, they view it as being hit by a water balloon. To retaliate they won’t hesitate to lob a tactical nuke at you and put on sunglasses as they stand in the blast zone and bask in the radioactive fallout.”
CHAPTERFIFTY-SEVEN
We talk for a little longer.Despite how disturbed I feel by Kayley’s prediction I opt to set that aside, for now. I can’t do anything about it tonight. And who’s to say anything will happen?
This isourday, not Stella’s. I refuse to let my sister or Ellis live rent-free in my head. Especially tonight.
All I want to do is snuggle with my men.
I wish I could relate that the three of us have wild, earth-shaking sex on our wedding night.
Alas, I cannot.
Once Kayley heads to bed we retire to the master bedroom and lock ourselves in. There, Leo has us strip, don our leather collars, and kneel in front of him next to the bed before we climb in and collapse with Leo in the middle.
I don’t even have time for my anxiety to stir up a toxic soup of worry in my brain about today’s events regarding Stella and Ellis—or any potential future ramifications—before I crash into sleep.
Yay.
The only requirement I have regarding our Sunday schedule is that there will be no alarm in morning. Barring any emergencies needing my attention, obviously. That we’ll sleep however late we want. Jordan scheduled my PDB for noon and I sincerely doubt I’ll have any worries about oversleeping and missing it.
Sunday morning, I smell coffee and open my eyes to find Leo standing there, smiling and carrying the tray with our coffee the way Jordan usually brings it in.
Except Jordan is still in bed and has managed in his sleep to make his way across the bed to snuggle with me, clinging tightly to my side in a very un-Sir-like way. He’s absolutely adorable. I silently give thanks not only for his presence in my life but also his patience with me and everything about our lives together.
Jordan lifts his head and sleepily blinks. “Huh?”
Leo’s smile widens. “You two are so freaking cute.” He sets the tray of mugs on the nightstand on Jordan’s side of the bed. Grabbing the TV remote, Leo climbs back into bed with us where Jordan now occupies the middle. Then Leo retrieves his mug of coffee after he’s safely settled in place and sips as he turns the TV on with the volume low and channel surfs.
“What time is it?” Jordan mumbles.
“A little after seven,” Leo says. “And no, no one’s up yet, not even El’s mom and dad. I put the breakfast casserole in the oven and set a timer on my phone. Go back to sleep, boy. Daddy’s got it under control.”
Jordan’s eyes drop shut and his head falls back onto his pillow. “Thank you, Daddy,” he mumbles before he’s once again out like a light.
“He’s exhausted,” I whisper. “After all the wedding plans and stuff.”
“He’s not the only one.”
