So I bought him a new jacket. Leather, the best. He was lean, but he had broad shoulders, so I bought him a medium. It wouldn’t fit him now. It cost me a fortune. The one he’s wearing now would cost ten times as much.
But it didn’t matter. He was different then.
His dad was gone and his mom was sick, so he never seemed quite as young as his age said he should be. He always acted older. More worldly, maybe even a little more jaded.
I could probably play the crying card with him and bend him to my will, but I won’t because that’s cheating. And because if it fails, I’ll be terribly embarrassed.
“I never invest my money without knowing exactly what I’m buying and who I’m doing business with. I need you to develop this idea more. I’ll tell you about my vetting process if we move forward,” he tells me.
“I don’t want to leave without a yes.”
“You don’t get a yes on the first appointment. You get a maybe, if you’re lucky you get vetted by me.”
“It’s technically our second appointment. I’m feeling lucky.”
He releases a pleasant, low laugh that rumbles up his chest.
“Christos, you just said you want to help me. Do you like my idea?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I’m open to the idea, but what I like is your fiery passion for it.” He lifts his brows meaningfully.
His grin is irresistibly devastating, and I find myself grinning back.
Something crackles in the air as our gazes hold—something electric and warm, something that comes with knowing someone as more than a stranger. A friend even. A once, long ago, possible love interest.
“I’ll work on my pitch to give it some clarity,” I say.
His eyes roam over my face until they lock back on mine, neither of us smiling anymore. “Good. Call my office when you’re ready.”
He steps out, and I see that his blonde is waiting for him outside. My heart skids to a stop. Christos doesn’t miss my reaction. His eyes shadow speculatively, then he gives me a ghost of a smile and a brief nod, slings his bag behind his shoulder, and walks away.
I smile at his girlfriend. She glares. My smile wavers and I look away, too tempted to look back at him but forcing myself to stare ahead and focus on business.
On the train to Nolita, I try to find the perfect song to reflect how angry I am at myself for fucking up my meeting. And also for feeling…well, the pang I felt when he left for his couples workout with his girl.
I can’t deny there’s a restless feeling inside me that appears every time I remember he’s with her, the same one I felt when she called him darling that first time. It won’t go away.
I shut my eyes and try to suppress the memory of his sexy mouth smiling as he cornered me at a party Cole hosted years ago. “You look like a guy who thinks he’s going to kiss me,” I teased him. I always teased him with that line. My heart was banging so hard I couldn’t think or hardly see straight as he approached…
But he never got his chance. I never let him, always stealing away when we were alone because he made me nervous.
I sensed he was dangerous to me. I sense he still is.
So I should be glad he’s taken. In fact, I’m glad he’s taken. It’ll totally ensure I always stay focused on business.
Christos
8 1/2 years ago…
“She’s yours, Aaric.”
For a moment I’m not sure I heard right. Leilani gazes at me with sweet eyes and a smile before glancing down at her very large, very pregnant belly. I blink as I look up at her, struck with disbelief.
I fucked her. Once. And I definitely remember using a rubber.
She glances around. “May I come in? I’ve been on the road for days. It’s been a hassle to find you.”
I should be angry. I should demand explanations. It’s true I’ve fantasized about being a father, but she was never the mother I imagined for my child. God, the timing couldn’t be shittier. I’m barely getting my fucking feet wet in business. Real business. And I’m in the middle of fucking relocating to New York.
“Ley. I don’t have plans for a kid now. I want one. Hell, I want a family more than anything. But not now,” I say, raking a hand through my hair in exasperation.
She shrugs. “Well, I didn’t get pregnant on my own, Christos.”
“Jesus,” I curse even as I swing the door open and watch her walk inside.
Bryn
“It usually only takes two or three meetings, by the third he gives you a yes, a contract is drawn, and you get your first check,” Jensen tells me.
I was passing by his Gramercy Park basement flat while walking Missy on Saturday afternoon and decided to punch in his number on my cell and ask if he wanted to meet me outside.
He did.
He’s in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, walking next to me after picking up coffee at Irving Place as we head to Washington Square Park.
I mull over his words for a moment and sip the last of my coffee, before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “This’ll be my third meeting and still nothing. I don’t know what the fuck is going on—all my meetings have sort of gone south, Sen,” I admit.
“Hell, I don’t know what to tell you.” He scrapes his hand down his jaw and eyes me. “He’s breaking protocol seeing you directly. Usually his staff screens possible options first.”
“I’d heard that. It’s why I was never put through.” I hug him with one arm to keep from pulling Missy, Mrs. Lopez’s pampered poodle, back. “Thank you, Jensen.”
“Hell, don’t thank me. I was as surprised he agreed to give you that first meeting as you were. But we had to try, didn’t we?”
But it didn’t matter. He was different then.
His dad was gone and his mom was sick, so he never seemed quite as young as his age said he should be. He always acted older. More worldly, maybe even a little more jaded.
I could probably play the crying card with him and bend him to my will, but I won’t because that’s cheating. And because if it fails, I’ll be terribly embarrassed.
“I never invest my money without knowing exactly what I’m buying and who I’m doing business with. I need you to develop this idea more. I’ll tell you about my vetting process if we move forward,” he tells me.
“I don’t want to leave without a yes.”
“You don’t get a yes on the first appointment. You get a maybe, if you’re lucky you get vetted by me.”
“It’s technically our second appointment. I’m feeling lucky.”
He releases a pleasant, low laugh that rumbles up his chest.
“Christos, you just said you want to help me. Do you like my idea?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I’m open to the idea, but what I like is your fiery passion for it.” He lifts his brows meaningfully.
His grin is irresistibly devastating, and I find myself grinning back.
Something crackles in the air as our gazes hold—something electric and warm, something that comes with knowing someone as more than a stranger. A friend even. A once, long ago, possible love interest.
“I’ll work on my pitch to give it some clarity,” I say.
His eyes roam over my face until they lock back on mine, neither of us smiling anymore. “Good. Call my office when you’re ready.”
He steps out, and I see that his blonde is waiting for him outside. My heart skids to a stop. Christos doesn’t miss my reaction. His eyes shadow speculatively, then he gives me a ghost of a smile and a brief nod, slings his bag behind his shoulder, and walks away.
I smile at his girlfriend. She glares. My smile wavers and I look away, too tempted to look back at him but forcing myself to stare ahead and focus on business.
On the train to Nolita, I try to find the perfect song to reflect how angry I am at myself for fucking up my meeting. And also for feeling…well, the pang I felt when he left for his couples workout with his girl.
I can’t deny there’s a restless feeling inside me that appears every time I remember he’s with her, the same one I felt when she called him darling that first time. It won’t go away.
I shut my eyes and try to suppress the memory of his sexy mouth smiling as he cornered me at a party Cole hosted years ago. “You look like a guy who thinks he’s going to kiss me,” I teased him. I always teased him with that line. My heart was banging so hard I couldn’t think or hardly see straight as he approached…
But he never got his chance. I never let him, always stealing away when we were alone because he made me nervous.
I sensed he was dangerous to me. I sense he still is.
So I should be glad he’s taken. In fact, I’m glad he’s taken. It’ll totally ensure I always stay focused on business.
Christos
8 1/2 years ago…
“She’s yours, Aaric.”
For a moment I’m not sure I heard right. Leilani gazes at me with sweet eyes and a smile before glancing down at her very large, very pregnant belly. I blink as I look up at her, struck with disbelief.
I fucked her. Once. And I definitely remember using a rubber.
She glances around. “May I come in? I’ve been on the road for days. It’s been a hassle to find you.”
I should be angry. I should demand explanations. It’s true I’ve fantasized about being a father, but she was never the mother I imagined for my child. God, the timing couldn’t be shittier. I’m barely getting my fucking feet wet in business. Real business. And I’m in the middle of fucking relocating to New York.
“Ley. I don’t have plans for a kid now. I want one. Hell, I want a family more than anything. But not now,” I say, raking a hand through my hair in exasperation.
She shrugs. “Well, I didn’t get pregnant on my own, Christos.”
“Jesus,” I curse even as I swing the door open and watch her walk inside.
Bryn
“It usually only takes two or three meetings, by the third he gives you a yes, a contract is drawn, and you get your first check,” Jensen tells me.
I was passing by his Gramercy Park basement flat while walking Missy on Saturday afternoon and decided to punch in his number on my cell and ask if he wanted to meet me outside.
He did.
He’s in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, walking next to me after picking up coffee at Irving Place as we head to Washington Square Park.
I mull over his words for a moment and sip the last of my coffee, before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “This’ll be my third meeting and still nothing. I don’t know what the fuck is going on—all my meetings have sort of gone south, Sen,” I admit.
“Hell, I don’t know what to tell you.” He scrapes his hand down his jaw and eyes me. “He’s breaking protocol seeing you directly. Usually his staff screens possible options first.”
“I’d heard that. It’s why I was never put through.” I hug him with one arm to keep from pulling Missy, Mrs. Lopez’s pampered poodle, back. “Thank you, Jensen.”
“Hell, don’t thank me. I was as surprised he agreed to give you that first meeting as you were. But we had to try, didn’t we?”
