Page 203 of Incisive

I’m talking the sexy kind of quiet confidence that means he knows he has zero to prove to anyone and doesn’t need to waste actions or words. He always wears this quiet confidence like a sexy, invisible cloak.

“Good morning, stranger,” I say.

“Good morning,MisterPresident.” His smile means he knows what he just did, because he did it deliberately.

Fuck, now I’m hard again. Thank god I’m sitting down.

Jordan walks over to him. “Good morning, Leo. I’ll take that for you.” I panic for a second and think he’s going to forget himself and rise up onto his toes for a kiss from Leo, but he only reaches for the bag, which Leo hands over, along with his jacket.

“Morning, Jordan.” I know my parents don’t see the wink he drops the boy. “Thank you.”

Then Leo subtly saunters into the room—I can’t describe his walk as anything but that, because no one else besides me and Jordan would recognize that exact roll of his hips—and leans in to brush a kiss across my lips before taking the seat to my right.

Jordan returns and takes his seat at the far end of the table, next to Kayley and where he can look directly down the table at me and Leo. Obviously, the seating assignments were deliberate on Jordan’s part.

NothingJordan does is ever left to chance, especially when it comes to me and logistical planning. He learned his early lessons well at Leo’s knee and I would propose he’s even exceeded the master when it comes to tactics and strategy.

Or, in this case, the Master.

Like the fact that we’re eating breakfast at this time and it wasn’t posted on my schedule as such. Jordan listed it as executive time, the way he usually does on my mornings when I have no early official events, until my PDB is scheduled to occur.

This way, the general public is none the wiser to what’s happening.

Hey, Stella and Ellis aren’t staying here. We’re not delaying breakfast to wait for them to show up. Not that they were invited to stay here, or to this breakfast. They apparently still own their townhouse here in DC and aren’t getting rid of anytime soon, if Leo’s and Jordan’s sources are reliable.

So much for her filing for divorce from Ellis. She’s a grown woman with income of her own. If she wants to remain married to the sonofabitch, that’s her problem. There’s not an ounce of guilt inside me over feeling that way.

Iknow, right? Personal growth, for the win.

Because were Stella and Ellis here it’d be a tense, quiet meal instead of the warm laughter and smiles flowing around the table.

In fact, as I sit here and watch Mom and Dad interacting with their soon-to-be in-laws, I spot a relaxed joy that I can’t ever remember noting with them before.

Certainly none of our family holiday dinners growing up ever felt this…easy.

Thisfun.

Damned sure none of the ones Stella was at because there was always some sort of drama to pull the focus squarely on her. The poster child for any attention is good attention, even negative attention.

As I sit there, I make a silent promise to myself that from now on I will do my damnedest to make my parents’ lives as fun and fulfilling as possible.

If that means deliberately excluding my sister from future events like this?

Then that’s what I’ll do.

* * *

With less thanan hour before the ceremony, which is scheduled to happen at noon, Stella and Ellis still haven’t arrived.

We aren’t waiting, either.

Shae, Chris, Kev and their kids, Ciro and his family, Casey-Marie, George, and Declan—everyone close to us, in addition to our families, are now up in the residence with us ahead of the ceremony. The photographer takes plenty of candid and staged shots of all of us, including groupings of us with my parents, Leo’s family, all of us together—and a few of just me, Leo, and Jordan, including one of him standing between us.

Ispecifically requested that particular configuration. It’s a picture I want framed for our bedroom and which will be prominently displayed on the wall of our home once I’m out of office.

The closest thing I can get to a true wedding picture for the three of us.

No tuxes today, just suits. Not even matching suits for the wedding party because that’s just ridiculous.