by Jayce Ellis
“So, Marc, what’s really good, though?” Jake slid onto the couch next to me and shifted in my direction. “Something in seven days has thrown you off-kilter. It’s not just you working at the small firm. You know I think it might be a better fit for you, but I’m not gonna rag on you about shit like that. But there’s something going on. Talk to me, man.”
I ran a hand over my face, that internal anxiety picking up into high gear. Of all my friends, Jake was the least likely to laugh in my face. But that didn’t mean I was comfortable just opening it all up to him.
I grabbed a coaster and put the Strongbow down, then sat forward. “I like,” I began, then stopped and shook my head before starting again, “I like taking care of him. Seeing that smile on his face when I do something for him. Stuff like that, and it’s fucking with me.”
“Okay, but that ain’t a big deal. We tend to want to make our bosses happy.”
“By bringing him dinner?”
“Huh” was all Jake said. “Can’t say I saw that one coming.”
I laughed, but it sounded strained to my own ears. “My thoughts exactly.”
“So, like, you like doing things for him outside of work? Maybe this is your subconscious telling you you want a real relationship with this dude. Something you can point to, someone to come home to. Having someone to come home to ain’t a bad thing.”
That was the truth. The few times I dated in college, it had been nice to have someone waiting in the room when I got there, someone who was glad to see me.
Jake kept going. “Especially since André understands the grind. The hours you put in, and the sacrifices you have to make. Having a guy who won’t bitch at you because you missed a meal here or there? Priceless.”
Jake understood that, maybe too well. His parents had almost divorced multiple times, until they came to an agreement that his father could haul ass for ten months out of the year, no questions, no worries, no complaints. The other eight weeks? He was required to take Jake’s mom on a vacation. Hence them being in Paris now. The very idea was wild to me, but it had saved them, so who the hell was I to complain?
As for me, the guys I dated in college had always been liberal arts or humanities majors. Which was not to say they didn’t bust their asses. Lord knew they did, but they hadn’t had afternoon labs and evening seminars and things that ended at six or seven or eight o’clock, after which they then had to do more homework before going out. They’d finish their work at a half-reasonable time and be waiting for me. It always started off great. It always ended miserably. Maybe there really was something to be said for being in the same field.
It still didn’t entirely stick with me though, and I couldn’t figure it out. I also didn’t want to spend more time thinking on it, so I grabbed my cider and stood. “I’m tired of cooking. You want to go out tonight?”
Jake looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I never offered to go out. Maybe have something brought to us, but that was it. He raised one brow and leaned back. “Park?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, somewhere else.”
“Don’t want to run into André there or...?”
He let the words trail off while I glared at him. No, I wasn’t worried about André being there. That wasn’t his usual spot any more than it was mine. But, maybe, together, I kind of felt like it was ours? Which was stupid, except my brain accepted it readily. Way too readily.
“No, none of that,” I said. “Just, somewhere else. Where we can eat and chill and not trip over anyone.”
Jake laughed, even while he flipped me off. “I wasn’t even that drunk, man. I think it was kismet or something. My good deed to bring y’all together.” He snorted and stood, the thought gone just that quick. “But okay, let’s hit someplace else up.”
Sounded like a plan. Anything to get away from here and out of my head.
Chapter Twelve
André
I worked Sunday morning, then spent the afternoon alternating between jacking off to thoughts of Marcus and feeling bad that I was jacking off to thoughts of Marcus. My intern. Not even Fiona could distract me, dragging me and Brian to another apartment event, some wine tasting from a pay-per-month club or whatever, to get out of my head. She’d prescribed lots of rest, and God was she right. But the mountain of work I had looming over me, knowing I wouldn’t get shit done this weekend in Tallahassee, was enough for me to tamp down my growing exhaustion and keep going.
Suffice it to say I wasn’t on my A-game when I got to the office Monday. Fiona noticed immediately, her brow shooting to her hairline, pink this week, when I walked in.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Everything.
“This assignment is taking it out of you, isn’t it?”
I nodded. No sense in denying it; it was obvious to anyone who knew me. Probably to those who didn’t.
“Is Marcus only supposed to help you with Harold’s project?”
“No,” a voice from behind me said before I could respond, and God, the sound washed over me like smooth whiskey going down. Marcus stood there, a coffee in one hand and a cheese danish in the other, the tiniest bit of flaky crust sticking to the side of his mouth, and I wanted nothing more than to lick it off. I stepped up and he looked down, a low rumble escaping him.
Fiona cleared her throat, looking at me like she’d never seen me before. “I don’t know if I want to tell y’all to get a room or watch a live show.” She winked at Marcus. “You got a bit of crust on you.”
Marcus huffed softly and flicked the side of his mouth with a thumb, then sucked on it to lick off the residue. And I was half hard at the sight.
Fiona, thankfully, was back to all business. I’d hear about my absolute lack of propriety later. “Okay, so if he’s allowed to help you on more than one thing, why are you not utilizing that service?”
I groaned and stepped back. “Him working longer hours on Pennington really frees me up for the other cases. It’d take more time to get him up to speed on those. It’s easier now to keep him on Pennington while I focus on the other clients.” I risked a glance at him. “No offense.”
Marcus held a hand up. “None taken. But if you worked for Harold for five years, I’m sure you were used to doing status updates, and given how much you do them for Pennington, I’d bet good money you do them for your other clients, even if you’re the only one who sees the files.”
I just stared at him, my mouth open. He had me dead to rights on that one. A slow laugh rumbled in my chest before escaping. “Shit. Yeah, I do.”
“Great. Let me get myself situated, and you can tell me which ones you want me to work on.” I started to argue, but he cut me off with a look. “This is happening. I let you slide this weekend. No more. You will let me help you, or as God is my witness I’ll call Harold myself.”
I wanted to drag him off by his belt into my office and bend over for him. Someone offering to take the load? Without the sexual innuendo which, while I certainly enjoyed, sometimes made me think his primary focus was still on post-presentation fucking. But this? First thing on a Monday morning? I could literally feel weights flying off my shoulders as he spoke, and Fiona was entirely too satisfied with herself.
“Marcus, that’s an excellent idea,” she said. “André, get yourself some coffee and sit down. Print out a client list and the two of you can get started.”
I was beyond arguing with them. I didn’t want to. I’d said for years how, at some point, I’d have enough work to employ someone. I hadn’t met anyone I trusted like I did Marcus, and letting go of some of those reins? My brain was down for the cause. That didn’t necessarily speak highly of me, but it damn sure said a lot about him.
I followed Marcus down the hall, dipping into my office next to his. I threw my stuff down—we’d had that entire conversation in the lobby—then popped into the kitchen and made myself
a cup of coffee from the machine. When I got back, he was sitting in the seat opposite mine, the same one he’d been in Friday night while fixing me a plate of the most delicious chicken I’d ever bitten into.
His eyes darkened, that tongue darted out, and he shifted. My breath caught, and he frowned, then pointed to the chair. “Go on and sit down.”
I did, and as soon as I made myself comfortable, he got up and shut the door.
“What—”
The words caught in my throat as Marcus stalked toward me, coming to a stop behind me. “You’re tense,” he said. I was, and his proximity didn’t help.
His hands landed on me, in the space between my neck and my shoulder blades. He began to knead, those long, slender fingers working into my muscles. I grunted, let my head fall forward, and tried to control the thumping of my heart at his touch.
He tilted my head to one side and used both hands to work down my other arm. “God, you’re tight.”
My laugh was shaky. If only he knew. “Probably because it’s not appropriate to have you doing this.”
“Mmm. I didn’t cause this level of tension. You got too much going on your plate, boss. You need to let me take some of it off.”
One, he was absolutely the cause of half my tension. Two, I had something he could take off. I couldn’t stop the soft groan as his fingers dug into a particularly tight knot. I wanted so much of what he was offering, but to be honest? I was terrified of becoming dependent on him and scrambling to do it all by myself again when he went back. Which was in two weeks. Surely I wouldn’t lean on him too much in that time.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked him.
“Honestly? I know I’m good at what I do, but the you I met that Friday and the you I’m seeing now are two totally different people. You’re more tense, more withdrawn, more tired. And unless I’m fucking up and creating more work for you—” he spun me around and knelt in front of me, his hand landing on my knee “—and you know I’m not, you need to learn to delegate. I let you lead this weekend,” he said, squeezing that knee and standing again, “but no more. I’m over it.”
This was not a normal employer-employee conversation. Someone who only knew me as their temporary boss wouldn’t dare say this, right? But no lie, I was grateful for the connection, because it allowed him to be real with me in a way people usually weren’t. So I was real with him back.
“I’ve been here ’til eleven, sometimes midnight, every night. Trying to make sure things don’t fall through the cracks.” He knew about some of it, but not all.
“Then I’m glad I was with you this weekend.”
I stiffened. And Marcus was close enough to see it. “What?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.
“Nothing.” I was a terrible liar.
“André? What aren’t you telling me?”
I pinched the base of my throat and looked away. “I was here yesterday.”
“Yesterday? As in Sunday? As in a day you told me in no uncertain terms you were taking off.” He thunked me on the forehead, and I scooted away from him.
“The hell was that for?”
He was frowning, the way a mom frowned at her child when they did something profoundly stupid. “You came in and busted your ass yesterday instead of calling me? This the kinda dumb shit I’m talking about.”
Apparently the filters were fully off. I craned my neck, loosened now due to his ministrations, and looked at him. And goddamn he was gorgeous like this. I wanted to suck his dick in thanks for his concern.
“You’re an intern. You’ve got hours. You’re not obligated to work past those defined times.”
“I appreciate that, but not at the expense of your health. André, we have to kill it next week, and that won’t happen if you’re not sleeping. How are you going to handle this project and everything else once I go back to Clarymore?”
“That’s exactly it,” I said, sighing. Marcus stepped around the table and sank back into his seat. “If I get this partnership, that will be my life. I’m trying to get used to that now.”
“You sure you don’t need to hire somebody? Even part time, if it means you’re not here dawn ’til past dusk?”
Now we were back to the whole training someone, something I just didn’t have time for. When I didn’t answer, Marcus scowled and stood, coming to stand over me. I damn near cracked a tooth forcing myself not to check and see if he was as affected as I was.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “We have two weeks left. You’ll print off a list of your clients, plus Pennington, of course. We’ll work on them together. If you stay late, I stay late. No more going it alone. And if that means I have to park my ass in your office and make you go home, then so be it.”
I stared at him, openmouthed and a little in shock. He was just taking charge, telling me what to do, and why did that turn me on so damn much? I wanted to push those boundaries, make him make me, and Jesus fuck, I needed to get laid by somebody not him. The very thought was enough for my dick to wilt. Stupid thing only wanted one man. Frankly, I understood.
Finally, I nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Get ready to bust your ass.”
Marcus got that sly little grin on his face again, and took his time looking me up and down. He stepped closer until he was only inches away. I could feel his heat. I wanted more.
He tipped my chin up but didn’t let go. His grip tightened. My dick throbbed.
“You’ve already proven you know how to bust my ass,” he said. “One day we’ll see if I can return the favor.”
Marcus
For the record, there was no way in hell I was going to make it two more weeks without getting my hands, my lips, my dick on him. This morning had pushed it. His breath against my pants when I got close? I’d wanted to pull it out and shove it down his throat. I would’ve stripped him first, made him sit in his office chair naked, his arms on the chair, and suck me dry. He would’ve liked it. Hell, he would’ve liked it more knowing we might get caught.
I took a few deep, shuddering breaths, then forced myself to buckle down and review André’s list of clients.
It was extensive. No wonder he’d been going so hard. Not only did he have follow-up meetings with regular clients, it looked like he had taken on two more just before I started, and maybe even another one in the last week? This man was insane, and I kind of fucked with that. I understood what it was like to be up from sunrise to sundown, doing whatever it took to get the results you wanted. But it was unsustainable, and from the looks of things, based on what Fiona had said, he was working well outside his usual hours. I couldn’t get him back to normal, but maybe I could create a facsimile of it. I needed to see him relax.
The thought brought me up short. That night with André had been great, no doubt about it. I’d felt that tingle in my gut when I’d showed up last week, but full-blown caring? It hadn’t exactly snuck up on me, but I’d tried to tell myself it was just about the sex. Don’t think I’d believed that from day one. But now? The idea of me going directly from internship to school, having André once, maybe twice in the interim, and then not again? It turned my stomach sour as hell, like those seasoned-salt covered lemons Dad liked so much.
There was a knock on the door before André opened it. I checked the clock and frowned. André might be crap at delegating, but he was pretty damn good about not micromanaging. So him being here right now, at eleven-thirty in the morning versus at one like we usually did? That was out of character. Even worse was the look on his face, like he’d been held down and pummeled by Drago or some shit.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He shut the door behind him, then took a seat in the guest chair. “Damn, these things are mad uncomfortable.”
I laughed. “You ain’t never sat in one of them?”
He shook his head. “No, and I can’t say I want to again.”
He was grin
ning, but whatever stress I’d managed to work out of his neck just a few hours ago was back in full force.
“André, what’s wrong?”
“You check your email?”
“Not since this morning.” I checked emails at set times of the day, and this wasn’t one of them. I pulled them up while André talked.
“Harold called me to make sure I’d seen it. The Penningtons have moved up their presentation date.”
Whatever pretense of calm I had fled in an instant. “They’ve done what?”
“All presentations are next Monday.”
“You’re fucking lying.”
He laughed, the sound slightly more than hysterical. “I wish like hell I was. But some family emergency came up, and they can’t wait until the end of next week. So we have to be ready to go Monday, seven days from today.”
I’d gone poker straight at the news, and now I sank in my seat. “Shit,” I whispered. How the hell were we going to pull this off?
Losing three days of work time was huge, especially when only two people were working on it. I didn’t know the size of the other firms in competition, but I imagined they were scrambling the same as we were. All of us in the same boat, except I couldn’t help but think that with a solo operation like ours, we were at a distinct disadvantage.
“There’s more,” André said, his voice wounded and hollow and enough to ratchet my concern straight through the roof.
“Like what?” I didn’t even try to keep the wariness out of my own voice.
“I’m out of town this weekend.”
“The hell you say.”
“I have to be outside Tallahassee for my father’s seventieth.”
I closed my eyes. Seventieth birthdays were big, special, and there’s no way I’d miss my dad’s. Of course, when the presentation was set for next Thursday, it wasn’t a deal-breaker. But now? Pushed up to Monday? That effectively reduced our seven-day timeframe to five.