Chapter Five
Then
In my search for a campaign manager, and potential VP candidate, I’ve already had a disappointing private meeting with Owen Taylor and Carter Wilson, Florida’s governor and his chief of staff. That was back in October, before the election that put Carter’s wife, Susa—also Taylor’s lieutenant governor—in the Florida governor’s office.
Now, less than a week after Markos’ meltdown, I’m back in Florida on an unexpected mission to buy a house and help my super-secret Secret Service sadist boyfriend blackmail his ex-boyfriend into coming to work for me as my campaign manager and chief of staff.
Um…wow.
That sounds really bad when I spell it out like that, doesn’t it?
Don’t get judgy with me. If you had any idea how the sausage is made in Washington, DC on a daily basis, you would demand we nuke the entire site from orbit.
It is, after all, the only way to be sure.
It’s little more than Lord of the Flies with suits and lobbyists, only despite the political parties’ attempts to demonize others, I say the true beast is money.
I’ve purchased my new house sight unseen, strictly on Chris’ recommendation.
The main reason?
It sits directly behind Kevin Markos’ house.
Chris picked me up from the airport last night and we spent the night together at my townhouse before we head to the real estate office for me to finish signing papers and receive the keys, two gate clickers, and a shit-ton of HOA paperwork.
After lunch, Chris drives us in his rental car to take me to see my new house. When we reach the development’s front gate and slow for it to open after he uses one of the clickers, I look around. “Nice area.”
“Should be,” Chris says with an unreadable smirk on his handsome lips and his sunglasses firmly in place to hide his eyes. “It cost you enough money.”
That’s irrelevant to me. I could retire right now and never have to work again, if I wanted. I inherited money from Momma, yes, but I’d been making my own living, a nice one, long before then.
This house is part of the long-term plan Chris has laid out. Tonight I will fly back to DC after we confront Kevin Markos and secure his commitment. Chris will stay behind with him.
“I think I’m a little jealous of him already,” I comment as we wind through quiet residential streets laden on both sides with expensive homes on large, shaded lots.
“Why?”
“He gets to spend two solid weeks with you.”
“You’re going to be busy with paperwork,” he reminds me. Then he reaches over and takes my hand. “I haven’t spoken with him in twenty years, Shae.” The deep emotion tinging his soft words isn’t lost on me. “You’ve had me for the past four years. I need this time with him.” He gently squeezes my hand. “You’ll get to play with him soon enough,” he teases.
Like me, Chris is a workaholic. He has a lot of vacation time coming that he hasn’t used up. Two of those weeks start now. Then he’ll bring Kevin to DC with him and prep him for starting life as my campaign manager.
“I’m nervous about Sunday morning,” I admit. “It makes it…real.” I’m going on Meet the Press, and there I’m going to announce my run for president.
I hope.
Depends on how today goes.
If not, I’ll be announcing I’m running for reelection to the Senate.
He pulls into a driveway, shifts the rented Lincoln into park, and looks at me. “Shae, I’ll support you whatever you decide. If you want to run for the Senate again, or you want to run for POTUS. It’s your call. But we need to settle this now, before we go over there and put this plan in action. We have to have our stories straight. He can be your campaign manager and chief of staff either way. But they are different beasts. I can soften my approach if you’re going to run for Senate, and in six years, we’ll be a team for a presidential campaign. Except we’ll have to be even more careful in that time not to risk discovery.”
I lay my head back against the seat and study him. “Take the glasses off, please?” I ask.
He does. His green gaze meets mine, steady, firm.
“You’ll still marry me?” I ask, hating that I feel…needy.
He holds my hand again. “If you want me, yes. I told you a while ago that if you want more with me, you ask me. Whether it’s to be my slave, or my wife, or whatever. That I wouldn’t push you.”
I’ve spent my entire life with goals.
I can never remember a time I didn’t have goals that would put most people to shame yet still leave me feeling like a slacker.
I’ve always felt…driven.
As an adult, part of that is due to running from things I can’t escape.
Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.
“Are you in love with me?” I ask.
He sighs. “We can love each other in a bunch of different ways and not both be in love with each other. Are you in love with me?”
Fair question, and one I avoid. “Will you hate me in two years?” I ask. “If I ask this of you, and you’re marrying me and not him?”
“I can’t guarantee he’s going to be happy with the whole personal situation, no, but he will agree to it and go along with it. Will I hate you? No. I need patience and understanding from you, sweetie. I love him. I’m in love with him. I’ve never stopped loving him. If you’re asking me if I will love you more than him, I can’t tell you that. I won’t lie to you.
“There’s not a finite amount of love in me. Do I love you? Yes. Other than what I’ve held for him in my heart all this time, you are the longest, strongest relationship I’ve ever had. Can I see myself married to you in a functional, healthy, loving relationship? Absolutely. But if you ask me to choose between you and Kevin, or to quantify my love for you versus my love for him, I will not do that. I will marry you, but I won’t give him up. This is not negotiable, just like when I come back later tonight to deal with him, I will tell him that you being in my life is not negotiable.”
I study him for a moment. “What if he gives you an ultimatum and says it’s me or him?”
“He won’t.”
“You said it yourself, you haven’t spoken to him in twenty years.”
“I know him.”
“You knew him,” I remind him. “Big difference. If I’m going to declare on Sunday, I need to know this is a sure-thing right now.”
“It will be,” he says.
I wave my hand toward the windshield, indicating the house. I need a brief break from this heavy discussion. “Is this it?”
“Yeah. I’ll give you the tour.”
He shuts the car off and we head inside. Our feet echo off the bare walls and wood laminate floors as we tour the house. There’s a pool and hot tub, too. One of my chores during these next two weeks is arranging to get my shit moved here from my townhouse and then sell the townhouse. One of my staffers will help supervise the logistics, a long-term aide I can trust and will pay extra for her efforts.
“I like it,” I say when we end up in the kitchen. “You sure this won’t raise more questions than it settles?”
“If you were from California or something, sure it would.” He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. He looks damn good in his suit and it nearly distracts me. “You’re from Tallahassee. It’s a coincidence. It’s an exclusive gated community. A county commissioner and two state reps have houses in here, as do several attorneys, a circuit court judge, and two school board members. It passes the smell test.”
I lean against the opposite counter, mirroring his pose. “If he can’t do this, if you feel he’s going to let us down, let me know before Sunday morning.”
“I will, but he won’t. He’s my good boy.”
Another tendril of jealousy snakes through me. I’ve never had competition for Chris’ time, other than from his job.
Definitely never had competition for his heart before. Well, I guess I did, I just never realized it before.
I’ve never had obvious competition for the sadist’s attention, either.
Maybe the only reason I wasn’t jealous before was that I had no reason to be.
I stare at him. “See, you keep saying that, but you don’t know.”
“I know Kevin. He’s still in the closet. He doesn’t have a close relationship with his father. It’s not a coincidence that he blew up over a hate crime directed at two gay men. You need to trust me. I’ve proven myself over the years. If you can’t trust me, tell me now, and we can part ways as friends.”
No, that’s not what I want.
I step across the void and snuggle in his arms. “I trust you,” I say, terrified to admit that. “I’ve never trusted someone like I trust you, though. I’m trusting you with him, too. That he won’t betray me, or us.”
His breath feels warm against my scalp. “I won’t let you down, sweetie, and neither will he. I swear.”
“And you’ll still marry me?”
He tips my chin so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “Why are you so scared to say it to me?”
I know what he means.
And he knows I know what he means.
I don’t want to admit this, but I know I have to. We’re approaching a crucial juncture in our relationship. “Because I’ve never said it to anyone before. Not like that.”
He slants a gentle kiss across my lips, a tender, sweet one that bears no hint of the sadist who inhabits a considerable portion of his meat suit. “I do love you, Shae. I have room in my heart to love both of you. Have I ever broken your trust before?”
I shake my head. I wouldn’t be here with him now if he had.
He gathers me in his arms. “I believe in you. I trust you. If you want to run for Senate, I’ll still be here. If you want to run for POTUS, I’ll still be here. I’ve always let you come to me, emotionally, because I know you’ve got your own baggage. But you can’t do this alone, either way. You’re going to need a campaign manager and a chief of staff, regardless. So you need to tell me what role you want me to play in your life.”
I drag in a shaky breath. “I love you, too,” I whisper. “I want to run for president, and I want you to marry me.”
The earth doesn’t swallow me. Lightning doesn’t strike me dead.
My mother doesn’t rise from her grave and point an accusatory finger at me for forcing myself to follow her orders, fulfill the promise she extracted from me, and leaving me feeling like a horrible human being for it.
He smiles. “There. Was that so difficult?”
* * * *
After working through our pitch a couple of times, we agree to keep a few facets of our long-range plan concealed from Kevin to make it easier to maneuver him where we need him to go.
Like that we love each other.
That—I guess—we are in love with each other, in some way.
And that Chris is going to marry me before the general election, after he retires from the Secret Service.
With that settled, we return to the car and head to Kevin Markos’ home. His house looks like an exact opposite floor plan of mine from the outside, with a different color stucco, trim, and roofing shingles.
“How do you know he’s home?” I ask.
“He’s home.” He slowly nods as he stares at the house. “The other night, I went to your house with the real estate agent for a final walkthrough, and I stood at the back fence and peeked over. He was inside. TV was on. No car in the driveway then, either. He parks it in the garage. He’s got an SUV.”
“Ah.”
He looks at me, the sunglasses firmly in place. “Senator, are you ready?”
I suppress a shiver. “It’s fricking spooky you can shift modes like that,” I snark.
He grins. “Get used to it.”
He gets out and walks around to open my door for me. Now we’re in full character. Chris is in protective mode as he follows me up the walk to Kevin Markos’ front entry. He’s looking around, and any casual observers would automatically assume Secret Service from the suit, glasses, and mannerisms. It’s like he’s grown six inches in height and two feet in shoulder width.
I damn sure wouldn’t fuck with him.
I drawn in a deep breath and ring the door bell as Chris takes up a position behind me, his back to the door. I knew he was going to do this because he doesn’t want Kevin to recognize him until after he answers the door, and we’re afraid he might not answer it if he sees Chris.
It takes a couple of minutes of me both knocking and ringing the bell again before I sense a presence on the other side of the door. When Kevin finally cracks it open, behind me I know Christopher’s turning to allow the full impact to emotionally stun Kevin Markos into immediate compliance.
I can see from the way Kevin’s beautiful blue eyes go wide behind his glasses that he is, indeed, stunned to recognize Christopher.
Excellent.
I give him a moment to process our presence before I speak. “Mr. Markos? May Special Agent Bruunt and I come in?”
“Why?” He edges the door open a little more and I know what he’s doing, looking for any photographers or paparazzi. Poor bastard’s been through hell.
“Only to talk.” I offer him a smile that’s probably a little too victorious, but I can’t help it.
I already sense Christopher’s right. I can feel it in Kevin.
Rock, meet bottom.
With a sigh, Kevin finally opens the door wider and stands aside. I walk right in, kind of like a vampire who’s been invited to the feast and Kevin’s a sack of fresh blood pudding.
Christopher follows me and heads deeper inside without speaking to Kevin. I knew he was going to do this, too. Should Kevin challenge him—which he probably won’t, based on his reaction so far—Chris was going to cite some bullshit about clearing the premises of any threats.
Secret Service, yo.
Chris wants to prowl around, check out what he’s got in the fridge, and mentally plan what he wants to cook for Kevin when he returns here later tonight.
Once Kevin closes the door I realize how bad he looks. Exhausted, aged. He hasn’t shaved in several days, and his hair’s a mess.
“After you,” I say, hoping I’m not wearing my scary smile.
I feel sorry for him. He probably feels totally alone in the world.
It also drives home the fact that Christopher is right.
About everything.
Well, so far.
We go talk, I give my pitch, then excuse myself to the bathroom as planned. Due to the layout of his house, which is nearly identical to mine except with a reversed floor plan, I can stand just inside the hallway and hear every word between them.
Do I feel a little bad that we’re resorting to extortion to get him to agree?
A little.
Do I feel a little guilty that we’re withholding some things from him and bending the truth about others?
Okay, yeah, some.
Would we really out him if Christopher can’t make him say yes?
No. We both agreed we wouldn’t, but there is no plan B, and we need Kevin to agree, right now.
I have to fight the urge to return early, though, when I hear the sadist step forward using Christopher’s voice as he lays down the law to Kevin.
The plan is solid, but only if I allow it to play out the way Christopher told me.
We have to wait for Kevin to agree to do this.
Once he does, and Christopher calls for me to come back into the room, we quickly make our exit. It’s only after I’m in the car again and we’re heading to Tallahassee International so I can catch my flight that I breathe easy.
“You did it,” I tell him.
“We did it.” He reaches for my hand and holds it as he drives.
When we arrive at the airport, he pulls off into the cell phone lot first, away from other vehicles, so we can talk.
“I’ll keep you updated by text,” he says, “but I’m not going to be in contact a lot for the next two weeks. Okay? I need to focus on him. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him I love him and forgive him.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Stick and carrot.” He looks through the windshield, quickly scanning our surroundings before his focus returns to me. “He’ll be expecting me back. I need to finish breaking him down.”
“Uh, he’s broken. I don’t think there’s any work left to do in that department.” I actually felt really sorry for Kevin by the time we left there.
“Yes, there is. I need him to fully accept you in my life. He will,” he quickly adds, “but that’s why I need these two weeks alone with him.”
“What was the offer?” I ask.
“Huh?”
“Back there, you told him he will take you up on your offer from back then.”
He removes his sunglasses so I can see his eyes. “I told him if he would trust me, that I’d take care of him. I’d offered to let him move in with me in DC. I was transferring to the office there. He was going to work at an unpaid internship at a network, and his parents were going to pay for his room and board.
“Kev was terrified to come out to them. I told him if he would move in with me, I’d support him. All I asked of him, all he had to do, was take the next step after our week together, and that was to call me. That’s all. Not a big step, but I knew I couldn’t chase him. He had to reach out to me. I told him he could be mine. That not even his father would hurt him. Kev’s terrified of the man.”
I snort. “His father’s a grotesque two-bit swampcunt who thinks he’s a political empire unto himself.”
I have zero respect for Rep. Edwin Markos. Fucker’s an asshole, and I’m pretty sure he was cheating on his wife while she was battling cancer. Man also seems to have a bad kind of hard-on for me, probably because Momma once whooped his ass like a rented pack mule in an election.
“You’re not wrong.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it before he tucks it against his chest, a gesture I love about him. “Give me these two weeks. Once we’re back in DC, I’ll need another two weeks to finish the process with him. Then I’ll bring you back into it with him.”
Okay, so this part of the plan is truly sneaky and underhanded and is, if it works as Chris believes it will, hotter than fuck and means I finally get to realize a long-term fantasy of mine to be with two guys.
I guess, under the circumstances, I can be generous, considering the potential benefits.
“I trust you.” I wonder if he realizes how fucking hard that is for me to admit.
If he or Kevin fucks me over, it can mean the end of my political career. I’m under no illusions that there’s a double-standard. A man caught in a sexual scandal in DC, as long as it’s with a consenting adult, he can usually survive it.
If I get outed as being kinky and having not one but two men?
I can forget about future political office if that happens. With just Christopher, yes, I could survive that, especially if we got married. It’s the poly aspect that will really scandalize people. I mean, how dare I be an ethical slut with two single, consenting, adult men?
Right?
I’d be treated as if I were caught occupying a double-ended glory hole.
Christopher smiles, glances around, then leans in for a slow, sweet kiss. “I trust you, too. Love you.”
I shiver, because it’s scary how comfortable that already feels.
How much I…need it. “Love you, too.”