Page 319 of Incisive

He finally leaves. I turn on the water in the deep soaking tub and dump in a package of rosemary mint Epsom salts it before I strip. I don’t even want Jordan’s help removing Duck tonight.

All I want is to be alone. Just…alone.

Which is the real reason I didn’t want to attend Ciro’s watch party tonight. I wanted to bealone.

Neededit.

OfcourseI want to spend time with Leo and Jordan.

What I reallyneedright now, atthismoment, is alone time to reset my brain.

When I awaken tomorrow morning Ciro will—hopefully—be president-elect and the center of attention. Let my “former president fades into the background” phase start now, please and thank you.

I ease myself into the soaking tub. Once I can sink all the way under the water I turn it off, relishing the quiet while inhaling the aroma of the rosemary and mint. I love Jordan so much for buying these special little things for us, always thinking about me and Leo and our battered, aching old bodies. He also keeps a lavender-scented variety handy that can pretty much put me to sleep while in the tub. Both of us have spent plenty of time soaking, easing our pains as Jordan dotes on us. He truly loves us, wants to take care of us.

Nothing will make him happier than finally being able to spend his days taking care of the two of us without interruptions pulling him away.

I float there, my ears under the water, just my eyes and nose peeking above the surface. As if in a dream I make out muffled sounds and sirens from DC traffic, shouts and chants from the ever-present protesters scattered outside, my men working out in the kitchen, and the building itself. All these years of history means the White House is far from quiet inside, even in the middle of the night. Plumbing and HVAC and elevators and even creaks and groans from the structure itself. A ghost or two, if some tales are to be believed.

Although the only ghosts I’ve ever encountered here are the homegrown ones infesting my own soul.

And noises from people.

Allthe people.

Allthe time.

All. The. Time.

My West Wing, staff, housekeeping staff, the detail—everyone.

I close my eyes and completely sink below the water for a moment. That’s probably why it scares the crap out of me when someone painfully fists my hair and holds me under the surface.

Terror fills me as I thrash and try pushing up with my foot against the bottom of the tub, reaching for and trying to dislodge the hand.

Except then I’m yanked above the water, gasping for air as another hand grips my throat and squeezes, threatening to choke off my air.

“What’s going on,pet?” Leo rumbles in my ear.

My heart hammers in my chest but even the truncated adrenaline dump can’t override my brain.

“Basta, goddammit!”

He immediately releases my hair and my throat and instead wraps his arm around my chest from behind, pulling me back against the edge of the tub and cradling me there.

“Sorry, buddy.” Leo presses his cheek against mine and I fight the urge to shove him away.

Leo’s trying. Hereallyis. He wants to take care of me the way Jordan wants to take care of both of us.

And he’s trying to take care of me using the primary love language I’ve required from him for fuckingdecades.

But I asked foralonetime.

Without turning I reach up and back, hooking my hand around the nape of his neck and holding him there so he doesn’t pull away. “I’m on empty,” I whisper because I didn’t turn around and I don’t know if Jordan joined him in here, or might be waiting just outside the door. “I don’t have the energy tonight.”

He sadly sighs and nuzzles my cheek. “Do you want me to overrule the game and end it? He’ll understand.”

“No. I just need some downtime to decompress.” I tip my head back so I can look him in the eyes. “Can my Master channel a little bit of Mister President for our slut tonight, please?”