Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2)

by Lesli Richardson

  I open my banking app and move some money from savings to checking before I ask them to detour past a nearby Target on our way to my place. I need to buy several large suitcases, among other items. It’s an expense I can justify now, since I’ll be earning a better paycheck, and I guess my master’s degree is on hold—again.

  But this way, I don’t have to leave much behind in the apartment. I’ll be able to grab all my clothes and shoes, my art supplies, and the few books I have here. It’ll leave only the stuff in the kitchen, and my bed, and what little furniture I have. And the stuff in my storage unit.

  Good thing I learned how to live light, I suppose.

  Gee, thanks, Mom and Dad.

  I know Elliot said I could live with him in the residence, but I can’t imagine that’s where I will be. More likely, I’ll be set up in a hotel, at first, until I can find a place of my own.

  Right?

  Until Leo weighs in, that is. I suspect once he’s back in town that he will demand I move in with him.

  I hope.

  Or maybe Leo won’t want anything to do with me.

  Which option would be worse, I wonder? Leo ignoring me, or…

  What if Leo puts his foot down and orders Elliot to fire me? I have no doubts that I’d lose in that scenario.

  And here I just went and upended my life with no guarantee I’m not about to get screwed over.

  Except if Elliot did that, he’d be going against everything I know about the man and how honorable he is. At any time, Elliot could have asked Leo to stop seeing me, and he would have.

  But he never did.

  I might have had my heart broken by the whole situation, but if I step back and look at it objectively, I know Elliot isn’t a bad guy.

  This means trusting him.

  Especially since he’s trusting me.

  Shoot, my life just got twenty kinds of complicated. Wrangling design students is a whole different thing than wrangling VPOTUS.

  The one thing keeping me grounded and focused right now is that I can see exactly why I was absolutely right to tell Leo he had to stay with Elliot. In some ways, that eases my heartache.

  The greater good, and all that.

  Elliot’s a good man. Damned sure a statesman, even if he doesn’t have faith in himself. Just because he’s a subby doesn’t make him weak any more than it makes me weak. And just because I was hurt about how everything worked out between the three of us doesn’t mean I think he shouldn’t be president.

  “What hotel will I be at tonight?” I ask one of the agents.

  “Sir?”

  “In DC. What hotel? Please, nothing super-expensive. I need to watch my budget.”

  He shakes his head. “The vice president said you’re moving in with him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Mr. Walsh. We’re to load your things with his to transport to the residence. He also told us to coordinate with you about moving everything else.”

  “Oh.”

  Elliot’s not a bullshitter. I guess it really means he’s planning to have me live with him at Number One Observatory Circle, and then the White House.

  Hell, he’s single, and I’m single. As long as it looks like I’m paying rent, and we have an official lease or something, it’ll be fine. It’s what Kev and Chris and Shae did after Kev got shot. They moved Kev into the residence with them.

  Okay, slightly different circumstances here, but considering Elliot’s fear, if he’s willing to do this…I guess I shouldn’t fight it. Right?

  Before we leave my apartment, I also change clothes, into one of my suits I haven’t worn since leaving DC six months earlier. I pack the clothes I was wearing today, and my sneakers, into my overnight bag. I also check the weather in DC and hold back my heavy coat, a scarf, and gloves.

  I no longer look like a TA—I look like I just stepped out of the White House.

  Once I’m ready to leave, and the agents have carried my stuff down to the SUV and are waiting for me there, I’m left staring around at my small and rather barren abode. It hits me once again how sad it is that one living space isn’t much different than another to me.

  Especially since I’m a freaking designer. Kind of my gig, and yet I live in something that’s got less personality than a Chinese food take-out container. IKEA flat packs are merrier than my loft.

  Although that is due in no small part to my depression over having left Leo.

  I could disappear tomorrow and who would even miss me? Really?

  Well, I guess Elliot would now. And the Secret Service, I suppose.

  I haven’t been able to bring myself to communicate with Leo in months, so he wouldn’t even know I was missing to miss me.

  Before today, my boss would have, hopefully, reported me missing if I disappeared.

  Except now I’ve resigned from that job.

  Yes, I told her why, because I felt I owed her an explanation for not giving her notice. She was happy for me, too.

  I mean, I told her I was unexpectedly going back to work for the White House in DC, in a dream job. I didn’t tell her exactly in what capacity. Obviously, I didn’t tell her I just received a blowjob from the VP, or the other…details of what my duties will entail.

  She laughed and told me she was glad I wasn’t being sent to Guantanamo Bay or something similarly sinister.

  No, just going to be the Dominant and professional hand-holder of our country’s VP, and probably our next president.

  Take that, Dad.

  I’m sure I could throw around a “Master Baiter” pun or twenty, but I’m too exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed.

  Besides, the only person I could tell that pun to would be Leo, and he’s not around.

  Right now, I’m also wondering if I’m an idiot for not thinking this through more clearly before saying yes to Elliot.

  I feel sorry for him, though.

  Mostly because I know how much I’ve been suffering without Leo, and I’m a private citizen. I can only imagine how bad it is for Elliot, not only keeping himself shoved deep in the closet, but rarely able to get what he truly needs to be happy.

  And rarely able to be with the person he truly needs.

  Not just alone, but lonely. Especially ironic considering how many people he’s surrounded by on a daily basis.

  Shoot, I don’t even know how much money I’ll be making. Maybe this wasn’t the brightest idea. Hopefully my salary will be at least as much as I was making before.

  It’s not quite nine when we roll up to the plane again—which I belatedly realize is technically Air Force Two—and there’s still no one around except ground crew, law enforcement, and Secret Service agents.

  I try to unload my stuff from the SUV, but I’m instantly swarmed by Secret Service agents and ground crew stepping in to do it for me, leaving me carrying only my messenger bag and overnight bag as I head up the stairs.

  I guess that means I’m not being fucked with. My return was anticipated and I belong here, I suppose.

  Now that I’m thinking about it, and I’m not upset or pissed off, I think I do recognize some of the agents.

  When I step inside the plane this time, I damn well look the part in my suit and loafers, even if I don’t feel like I belong here. I find Elliot once again standing in the doorway to the suite, his hands in his pockets, no glasses this time. He gives me a look that hardens my cock again.

  Without a word, he steps aside as I pass, and he bows his head to me, just a little. I realize it’s exactly the way he does with Leo.

  The way I used to do with Leo.

  No one else would think it’s anything but a simple gesture of respect.

  I know what it means, and what he’s silently saying to me.

  What he’s giving me.

  He’s giving me control over him.

  He’s giving himself to me.

  My pulse races as I ponder the possibilities at light speed.

  This time, I reach behind me and close and lock the door myself. />
  He’s got to be miserable right now because he didn’t get to come earlier.

  I set down the overnight bag and channel Leo—I softly snap my fingers and point at the floor in front of the sofa, where Elliot sat earlier.

  When his knees immediately unhinge and he drops to the floor into what, for him, passes for a full, formal bow, my mouth goes dry.

  He’s fucking gorgeous.

  My smart boy.

  No, not boy.

  Leo calls Elliot his pet, and Elliot calls him Master. Yet Elliot chose to call me Sir.

  Then again, maybe it’s better I call Elliot boy, so there’s a difference in what Leo has with him and what I have with him.

  Either way, I need a moment to catch my breath, literally. I stand there, thinking, processing.

  Staring at him.

  He sits kind of slumped onto his right ass cheek, right leg flat against the floor, knee bent, so he can keep his left leg out.

  Head bowed.

  I slowly take off my messenger bag and set it on the floor, out of the way. “Stay right there.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I close my eyes and suck in a sharp, deep breath.

  I long to say those two words to my Sir.

  Opening my eyes again proves to me I’m not simply having a really weird wet dream.

  I’m standing here, on Air Force Two, with Elliot on the floor in front of me.

  “Condition of my own,” I belatedly say. “I’m never going to be a yes-man. I won’t bullshit you. I’m going to be the one person who will give you what I feel is the unvarnished truth, even if it’s ugly. If you ask for my opinion—or, sometimes, even when you don’t—I won’t hold back. I will always speak truth to power. Will that be a problem?”

  He doesn’t move from the position I ordered him into. “No, Sir. I want the truth. I need someone I know will be my gut-check. That’s another reason I want you in this position, because I trust you like that, too.”

  I slowly inhale, biding my time. “Does the flight crew know who I am now?” I keep my voice low, both to avoid being overheard and so he can’t hear the tremor in it.

  “Yes, Sir,” he says. “And PPD. I told them you’re coming to work for me as my body man. As soon as we return to DC, the head of my detail will get you a new ID badge and bring it to my residence. I also told them you’re moving in with me permanently.”

  “Good boy. Stay there.” I turn and slip out through the door, pulling it closed behind me so no one can see Elliot sitting on the floor, and I signal to one of the PPD agents.

  Much in the way the special agent motioned to me earlier, in my office.

  The way Leo always motioned to me, summoning me.

  “Yes, Mr. Walsh?”

  That’s going to take some getting used to again, I suppose.

  Fake it until I make it. “How long before we take off?”

  “Midnight, sir.”

  Everyone’s calling me “sir” all of a sudden.

  Except Elliot says it with capital S’s.

  I decide to fully channel Leo and maybe a little bit of Kev, too, and it’s eerie to me how easily I can slip into that mode again. “Where’s the press? And staff?”

  “They’re being brought back at 2230, sir.”

  “How many, total?”

  “Twelve staff, I think. No more than fifteen. Another ten to fifteen press. Do you want me to get the roster?”

  “No, not necessary. Just wanted a ball-park. I want press restricted to the aft cabin on the return flight. Staff doesn’t come forward, either. The vice president is not to be disturbed. Everything goes through me tonight, unless it’s President Samuels, Kevin Markos, or it’s an emergency involving NatSec that I can’t deal with for him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I give him a sharp nod to dismiss him.

  Then I motion one of the flight crew over. “Is the galley open?”

  “Yes, sir. Can I get you anything?”

  “A ham and cheese on wheat, with mayo and mustard, and a couple of cold bottles of water, please.”

  “Absolutely, sir. Fries or chips?”

  “Chips, please. Regular, not flavored.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, thank you. Just that, for now. I’ll be eating in the suite with the vice president.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I wait until he’s turned and heading away from me to slip back inside the suite and lock the door. It’ll be too risky doing anything with Elliot right now. The things I plan to do to the man will result in him making some interesting noises, so that’s best delayed until we’re underway and I have the sound of the jet engines to cover our activities.

  I leave my jacket and tie on and sit on the sofa where I sat before, my legs spread, and I pat my thigh just loudly enough he can hear me.

  He immediately sits up, scoots in, and buries his head against my stomach while his arms encircle me.

  One of the bonuses about this arrangement?

  I don’t have to tell Elliot what I expect. He and I both know what I want him to do.

  I’ve adopted myself a pre-trained pet.

  Or, more accurately, I guess he adopted me.

  With one hand buried in his hair and massaging his scalp, I feel for his necktie with my other and wrap it tightly around my fist, holding him in place.

  He shivers before all the tension drains from him and he lets out a soft moan.

  Buddy, believe me, I know the feeling.

  Here’s me, a nobody.

  Never expected my path to careen through the guardrails like this. When I walked away from Leo, I figured I’d eventually find love again, once I got the rest of my shit together and got a handle on this adulting crap.

  Some day.

  Once it stopped hurting so much.

  “Have you eaten today, boy?” I ask, already suspecting his answer.

  He barely shakes his head and I hear a muffled, “No, Sir. Coffee this morning, and a couple of bottles of water.”

  I didn’t think so. Elliot’s bad about taking care of himself when he’s working and stressed. Without a dedicated body man of his own, and without Leo around to hound him, it’s easy for his personal needs to slip through the cracks.

  “How long since you’ve been able to spend quality time with Leo for play or sex?”

  I feel him swallow, and I’m reminded that it’s a tell when he’s upset and trying to hold it in.

  I’ll have to remember that.

  “Over three months, Sir,” he finally admits. “Our schedules haven’t lined up. He’s stopped by my office a few times, but…it’s difficult to find private time to be alone together.”

  Yeah, I know how that feels, unfortunately.

  It also leaves me shoving back a wave of anger threatening to swamp me. I left so Leo could focus on Elliot. Why’d he drop the fucking ball?

  Why did he practically abandon Elliot when Elliot needs him?

  “You said you talked before he left.”

  “He stopped by my house for a couple of hours. All we did is talk and I…”

  After a moment, I prod him. “Say it.”

  He sighs. “I cried myself to sleep. He left during the night. He was gone when I woke up.”

  We have five minutes before I hear a light rap on the door.

  Elliot doesn’t move.

  I lightly tap his head and release his necktie, and he sits up so I can stand. “Stay.”

  I go get the food, careful to barely open the door. Then I lock it and return to the couch.

  The food is on a little tray, which I was counting on. They even included cutlery.

  I sit, positioning the tray next to me on the sofa. I put Elliot back into position between my legs, and then I proceed to cut the sandwich into bite-sized pieces. Once I open the chips and lay a napkin over my slacks to protect them, I pick up a piece of the sandwich.

  “Head up, boy.”

  He lifts his head and, when he sees what I’m holding, his mo
uth automatically opens.

  “Good boy.” I return one hand to his head so I can rub it for him.

  His eyes drop closed as he chews.

  I watch him. As always, since it’s late in the day, there’s a dark shadow of stubble along his jaw. I hadn’t noticed earlier, because the whole he-had-my-cock-down-his-throat thing sort of distracted me a little.

  Note to self, make sure we always pack an electric razor for late-day touch-ups, even on day trips. And the charger cord.

  Otherwise, he’ll start looking like shit during appearances late in the day.

  Actually, I’ll need to put together a kit that will automatically go everywhere with us, including spare clothes, makeup for on-camera appearances, and other things I’ll need for him, and for Duck. He won’t be able to go-go-go as hard as he’ll need to for a presidential campaign without some personal logistics prep. The spotlight wasn’t on him quite as brightly before. If he had to disappear into a bathroom or behind a closed door for a few minutes to adjust things, it wasn’t noticed.

  Now, it will be, and questions will no doubt be lobbed at him by his opponents that it speaks to fitness to perform the duties of his office.

  The truth is, this man is harder and tougher than nearly everyone I know, including Leo. I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone run him down.

  Elliot is now my world. I’ll throw one hundred percent of my efforts into getting him elected and keeping him vertical.

  Honestly?

  Whether or not I end up with Leo is moot at this point.

  Elliot needs a dedicated keeper if he’s going to survive the election and be POTUS. Me or Leo. But until President Samuels’ second term is over, it’s got to be me by default.

  The greater good, and all that.

  Means at least I’ll get laid regularly, right?

  Even if my heart ends up shredded in the process. Because at some point, this can’t keep working.

  Can it?

  If it even works to start with. Leo might put an end to it when he returns to DC and finds out what’s going on.

  I really hope this doesn’t put me and Leo at odds with each other. I don’t want to defy him, but it’s obvious Elliot is hurting, maybe even worse than I was.

  At least I had the freedom to grieve.

  Elliot can’t. Worse, it’s a slow decline by infinite degrees, at this point, not a sudden relationship death. It makes me a little angry on Elliot’s behalf, too.