by Kilby Blades
“Paul, this is Adam.”
“I hear you do some important work in the community,” Adam complimented.
“You could say that,” Paul said. “I hear this is your first time at Sanctum. How do you like the salon?”
Adam took another look around before turning back to Paul and smiling. “Very literary,” he said with emphasis.
“Well, Adam,” Paul returned, “you’re welcome back any time.” He turned his attention back to Levi. “Good news. Our proposal goes to the committee next Wednesday. And I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t pass.”
The table erupted in light applause.
“No counting chickens,” Levi warned, holding his hands up in a way meant to calm everybody down. Adam seemed less cheery than the others and chose that moment to give Levi’s neck a squeeze.
“All right,” Paul said, fixing Levi with a final, pointed look. “Dinner on Monday?”
Even as Levi leaned forward to share a departing handshake with Paul, Adam tightened his grip.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Pillow Talk
“YOU know, I’ve never been to this one….” Adam trailed off as they sped down 101. Literally, Adam was speeding. He’d gotten hold of a midnight blue Nissan GT-R. The freeway had taken them down the peninsula, past San Jose. Soon they’d get off the big roads and cut over to the coast. The Inn at Carmel Bay was one of the most splendid resorts in California, known nearly universally. Adam owned the damn place but had never even visited. Levi tried to focus on the wind on his face and the first whiffs of the salt air—not on how rarely Adam found time to visit California.
Levi’s heartburn over all of this was entirely his fault. Wasn’t it he who had insisted that this thing come to a hard end? The trouble was, Adam wasn’t out of his system yet—might have been more in his system than ever. Already Levi dreaded watching him leave.
He supposed this was still better than the what-ifs. Adam had been right—something in this had healed them. Levi felt as if he knew Adam twice as well. It was the logistics of it all that Levi didn’t know how to manage. How were they to greet one another anymore, if not with kisses?
Pushing away thoughts he could torture himself with much better after Adam left, Levi gave himself a minute to admire the stunning hotel. Built in the style of a luxury eco-resort, its buildings sat on the edge of a cliff that plummeted to the sea. Each “room” was really its own small house. The place was known less for its views of the ocean than for being situated in the clouds. If you lay in bed or sat on the verandah in the early-evening hours, your view would be a carpet of white.
It took them a good half an hour to shake off the staff, who had assembled to greet Adam with a king’s welcome. The GM had come in on her day off to personally give Adam a tour. From their standpoint, Adam was the most important guest they would host all year. Ben had been known to slash and burn management teams on his hotel visits when things weren’t to his liking. Adam didn’t have that reputation, but this team didn’t know him personally, and he was still the boss.
It would have also had the staff on high alert that titterings about leadership shakeups were already making their rounds. Rumors about changes at Kerr Hospitality had been strategically leaked to the press. Adam had twice the gravitas his father did—the air of a true leader, not a dictator. Adam struck the perfect balance: listening on their tour, asking good questions, issuing praise, and sharing his vision with his staff. Unlike Ben Kerr, Adam stopped to learn names, shake hands, and look his employees in the eye. Levi didn’t know whether to burst with pride or weep in consternation from the knowledge that this was where Adam belonged.
The closer they drew to the end, the lighter they were on words and the more conversations happened in the dark. They’d discovered that Adam really did fit perfectly tucked under Levi’s shoulder in the crook of his arm. There was something delicious about falling asleep together, and they did a lot of that. They talked about random things—inconsequential things—crazy things they’d likely never discuss again outside the confines of this situation.
“They’re gonna know, you know.”
Levi was too busy enjoying the softness of the breeze and the languor of the sunset to answer right away. They swayed gently in a giant hammock off to the side of the deck.
“Who’s gonna know what?” Levi murmured in response.
Adam looked over at Levi, his dimple puckering ever so slightly at his bittersweet smile. “Our future ones,” he said with calm emphasis.
“Like, the people we end up with?” Levi asked. Adam nodded. “We don’t have to tell them anything we don’t want them to know.”
“Except they will know,” Adam argued.
“Know what, though?” Levi pressed.
“That we did something. That we had something. That we probably always will.”
“It’s not like we’re gonna throw it in their face,” Levi mused.
Adam began to chuckle, so richly that he ended up choking off in gasping breaths.
Levi sat up straight. “What?”
“Levi.” Adam threw him a pointed look. “Everyone already thinks we’re fucking.”
Levi’s eyes widened in alarm. “It’s been less than two weeks,” he blurted.
“Not just on this trip,” Adam said in a way that told Levi he was serious. “People think we’ve been fucking for yeaaaaars….”
Levi shook his head. He didn’t like feeling naïve. Why did Adam always seem attuned to so much more? “How did I not know?” he asked, his voice quieted. He wasn’t just talking about this.
“People see what they want to see.”
LEVI startled himself awake with his own snoring—all the more embarrassing when he realized they were still in the private cabana that overlooked both pool and sea. They lay under a terry blanket designed for the express purpose of warming or shielding guests from morning chill, cooling evening, or afternoon sun.
Even at the height of the day’s warmth, the air had somewhat of a shiver. By then most guests had left the pool. Blinking and inhaling sharply, Levi brought a hand to his mouth, where a touch to the corner of his lip revealed that he’d been drooling. Swinging his gaze up toward his pillow—Adam—Levi found bright eyes and a dimple that was out in full force.
“You are too fucking cute right now,” Adam said in that way that actually made Levi’s heart skip a beat.
“And you are too fucking excited for someone who just got drooled on.”
Levi pulled a corner of the towel that covered him far enough upward to wipe Adam’s chest. Then he plucked the drink from Adam’s hand.
“Mmm,” he murmured, tasting gin and something acidic that held neither the flavor of citrus nor the quinine tinge of tonic. “This is good….” Levi smacked his lips lightly. “Can I get one of these?”
He tipped the glass all the way back, slurping the last of the liquid from the ice.
“Looks like we’ll need two.” Adam was still smiling when he pulled the glass out of Levi’s hand. He set the empty glass down blindly and pulled the blanket that covered them up to Levi’s neck. Only when Levi was once again snug in its folds with only his face sticking out did Adam lean down to give Levi a slow, sweet kiss.
The kissing, Levi had decided, was the part he would miss the most. And that was saying something big because holy hell, could Adam fuck. But the kisses were sublime—stirring and nearly spiritual. Every last one, Levi could feel to the marrow of his bones.
Take this one—Adam had lifted his nose to trace the line of Levi’s jaw as his hands rose to cup Levi’s face. Before Adam dared to even touch his lips to Levi’s, the knuckles of his fingers ghosted over Levi’s cheeks. His eyes, which held the last vestiges of mirth as they sparkled down at Levi, softened into something different seconds before he captured his lips. From there, Adam took his time tasting, breathing warmth into Levi’s very soul. Adam’s breath felt like need and his caress felt like love.
“Fuck, Lev,” Adam breathed a second after pull
ing away—as if it were Levi who had Adam in his thrall. He did that thing again—stroking Levi’s cheeks with the backs of his hands while melting Levi under his gaze. Adam had just swooped in for another amazing kiss when the very last thing Levi expected interrupted their fun.
“Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve,” a passing voice spat with venom. “Fucking faggots,” came louder than the last. By the time Levi raised his head to look, a sunburnt older couple was retreating. The owner of the voice—a balding man with a bad blond comb-over—didn’t bother to turn around. His wife, on the other hand, craned her neck to see behind her, looking between Adam and Levi with a shaking head.
Levi blinked in surprise. “I literally cannot remember the last time someone called me a fag.”
It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it left a bitter taste. Levi was no stranger to the ways of hateful people. It was one thing to be a member of a marginalized group—to suffer from low-grade hostility and systemic bigotry—and quite another to be targeted in a tangible way.
“I can,” Adam muttered darkly, glaring after their disappearing forms.
“You do own the place,” Levi pointed out, wanting to make light and not wanting to let these idiots ruin their good time. “You could arrange to have them poisoned.”
Adam didn’t crack a smile. Levi wondered what he was thinking.
A waiter came over with two more of Adam’s drinks. Adam didn’t turn to thank their waiter. Adam never forgot to thank—or tip—anybody.
“You know what my dad would’ve done?” Adam asked.
Levi did know what Ben Kerr would have done in a situation like this. He’d seen it firsthand. Knowing that saying anything discriminatory to a gay couple would put Kerr Hospitality on shaky legal ground, Adam’s father would have left the gay couple alone—done nothing to apologize or make them feel welcome. Then he’d have rolled out the red carpet for the complainers.
“He’d have gone after those guys,” Levi admitted, jutting his chin in the direction of where they’d disappeared. “He’d have found out what their names were—what rooms they were staying in—and he’d have sent them up a bottle of wine. Then he’d have comped them a bunch of stuff.”
Adam nodded in agreement with Levi’s assessment, looking soberer than a minute before. “Even until the day he died, he never would have seen the victims in that situation as us.”
Now it was Levi’s turn to caress Adam’s face and plant a soft kiss. “Good thing you’re not your father,” Levi said firmly as he looked into Adam’s eyes. “Good thing you’re co-CEO of this company now.”
It was one of a dozen reasons why Adam’s big confession had done nothing to change what Levi needed to do. Kerr Hospitality needed Adam. The corporate world needed woke CEOs. Maybe other people—normal people with normal jobs who lived in normal houses and fell in love with other normal people—didn’t have this problem. But when you loved a billionaire, decisions were narrow and few.
“I know it’s our last night.” Suddenly Adam’s gaze was back on Levi. “And I don’t want to spend a minute away from you….”
But you were triggered. And you have to handle this.
“Let’s go back to the room,” Levi suggested, pushing up onto his hand. “I’ll take a warm bath, read a book—you do what you gotta do.”
“I’m sorry.” Adam apologized twice on the way back to the suite, and once sitting on the side of the tub as he’d begun to draw Levi’s bath. It felt like the future they would never live together playing out. It made all of this easier to swallow. Adam had a calling. So did Levi—they each had work they were born to do. This thing they had surrendered to wasn’t tantamount to losing Adam. Adam was already gone.
“Stop apologizing,” Levi said. “I only wish I could be a fly on the wall to see… whatever it is you’re gonna do.”
Chapter Twenty-Three: Taking Out the Trash
PAMELA must have had sharp knuckles for as loudly as she rapped on the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Daniels, please open up,” she called.
Behind Pamela stood Adam, and behind Adam stood Levi. Levi watched as Pamela fingered the universal key card attached to a photo ID at her hip.
“Mr. and Mrs. Daniels, if you don’t answer now, I am authorized to open the door.”
It didn’t come to that. Shuffling could be heard from the inside and sharp words already being called—presumably by Mrs. Daniels—as she approached the door. “The Do Not Disturb sign is on,” she hollered irritably from the other side.
When the door swung open, so appeared the woman—this time dressed for dinner and half made-up, looking nearly as pissed off as she had from seeing two men kissing.
“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Pamela Ruiz. I’m the hotel manager. I’m here to notify you that you’re being ordered from the premises, effective immediately.”
Mrs. Daniels blinked at Pamela a few times in disbelief before finding her voice long enough to ask a dramatic and astonished, “Why?”
“For harassing other guests.”
The woman opened and closed her mouth three times like a fish out of water. Mr. Daniels could be heard shuffling toward the door. Theirs was a midrange suite, though all of them were large. It was possible he’d heard nothing of what had been unfolding at the door.
“These people think they’re kicking us out,” she complained helplessly to him.
“On what grounds?” he demanded, immediately livid.
“Harassment.” Pamela gave the Cliff’s Notes version this time. “Hate speech.”
“This is ridiculous,” the man said, utterly put out. “I’m calling the manager.”
“I am the manager, sir.”
The man blinked. “Well, who’s your manager?”
“Sir, I’m the general manager of the hotel. This property is a subsidiary of the Kerr Hospitality Group, and you’re welcome to call the corporate offices on Monday, but for now, we need you off the premises.”
“I’m calling the police,” the man said, beginning to head back into the suite.
“Hector!” Pamela called lightly before returning her gaze to the man.
The uniformed officer stepped into view.
“Could you please help Mr. and Mrs. Daniels collect their belongings and be off of the premises in….” Pamela looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes?”
“Be glad to,” Hector replied.
“I’m calling my attorney,” Mr. Daniels grumbled.
“You’re welcome to do so, sir, on your own time. Right now, you’re being asked to leave. There are two ways to do that. In the front seat of your car or in the back seat of mine.”
“You can’t talk to me that way. What kind of cop are you?”
Hector grinned in satisfaction. “The gay kind.”
“Your attorneys will hear from me.”
Adam finally stepped out of the shadows. “I look forward to them sparring with mine.”
Mr. Daniels looked utterly surprised and flummoxed to see Adam’s face again. “You can’t sue me. Not for calling you a fucking faggot.”
“Yes, I can. And thank you for just admitting your guilt on tape. Security cameras are a wonderful thing.”
THAT night they fought the sunrise, knowing what lay ahead—refusing to sleep, refusing to waste a single minute. Something was different about Adam—better. Levi had seen something unlock in him in the long seconds they’d stood in the office, watching live footage of the guards escorting the Daniels off the property.
Yes. Adam was different. Levi thought about the airport three weeks before—of flight attendants with red lips and red ascots tucked under Adam’s arm, of Adam looking every bit the Adam of his youth. He’d always been a jumble of many things—a chameleon who could be anything he wanted in any moment: the party boy… the diplomat… the comedian… the provocateur… the smartest person in the room. All of those things were fading in a way that felt natural and bittersweet at once.
For all of the power shots he’d taken those weeks—Adam in his private ap
artments looking over his kingdom, Adam in stunning spaces in the front of the house, Adam playing cards with the staff in the break room—he had somehow never held more of the gravitas of a CEO than he had at that moment, even wearing board shorts and a white linen shirt.
Maybe it was the imminence of what he knew was to come that had caused a shift in Adam. Tomorrow he’d fly to New York and prep with Elle for the official handoff. Monday morning would be the board vote, and the press release would go out Monday afternoon. But Levi felt it: every minute since Adam had stepped off that plane—maybe every minute since Ben Kerr had died—had been leading Adam, leading both of them, to this.
“What is it?” Levi asked quietly. He’d been trying not to watch the clock—unsuccessfully—which was how he knew it was just past three. The waves of the ocean could still be heard crashing on the cliffs below. The sliding doors to the patio were cracked open, letting in some of the cool sea breeze.
Adam was silent, though his breathing tripped for a beat or two. For all that Levi knew, whatever Adam was holding could have been the twin of the ball of dread and loss and mourning that sat in Levi’s gut. When someone as bold as Adam didn’t answer after seconds, it was a strong clue that whatever it was was really eating him up.
“Last call,” Levi quipped, hoping to coax it out of him. “If you don’t sleep here, or work here, or sleep with someone who works here….” He trailed off, but it fell flat.
“It’s nothing,” Adam said finally.
“It’s obviously not nothing.” Levi’s voice was quiet. He angled his face to kiss Adam softly on the lips. “Are you gonna regret it if you don’t tell me?”
Adam closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
“If not now, when?” Levi asked.
Levi became silent then, knowing if Adam was going to say it that he would say it. After minutes, Levi didn’t think that Adam would.