by K. C. Wells
Thomas sighed. “Leo, you’re a good Dom, the best I ever trained, if I’m honest.” Leo’s cheeks warmed at this uncharacteristic praise. “You can’t blame them if the subs around here want to be yours. Hell, you only have to walk through the club and they’re lining up, trying to catch your eye.” Leo let out a chuckle. That was a fairly accurate description. “All I’m saying is… consider it?” When Leo shook his head, Thomas let out a sound of sheer exasperation, which made Leo look up in surprise.
“Damn it, man, you need to start living again!”
Leo gaped, shocked by the sudden outburst.
Thomas’s expression softened immediately. “I’m sorry, Leo, but… we’ve all sat by for the last two years watching you going through the motions. You haven’t been living, you’ve been… existing. It’s as if part of you just… switched off inside.” Leo became very still, his gaze directed toward the wide expanse of desk between himself and Thomas. Thomas’s voice was gentle. “Let him go, Leo. Let him go, and come back to us.”
Leo lifted his head. “I loved him, Thomas.” Thomas’s eyes grew bright, and Leo’s heart constricted in his chest. He knew Thomas had cared deeply for Gabe too. Hell, more than three-quarters of the club’s members had attended his funeral. “He was my sub. I trained him, I collared him… and then I fell in love with him.” Angrily, Leo wiped at the tears that pricked his eyes. “And he goes and fucking dies on me!”
And then it happened.
For the first time since Gabe’s death, Leo felt a rush of anger as he dwelled on his sub’s sudden demise. It bubbled up from some place deep inside him, so deep he hadn’t known it was there. And that anger was directed in part toward his dead lover, who couldn’t speak for himself. But that was no matter. Leo couldn’t stop the molten lava of his fury from erupting any longer.
“Why the fuck did he have to go and die? Six years, we were together. Six fucking years, and it’s all wiped out in minutes by a drunk driver. He was only twenty-nine,” Leo exclaimed bitterly, banging his hand flat on the desk, causing Thomas to jump. Thomas’s startled reaction brought him to his senses, and he shook, struggling to control himself with deep, calming breaths.
Thomas gaped at him in astonishment, mouth slightly open. “All this time,” he said softly, “and this is the first occasion I’ve seen you angry about his death. You’ve kept everything bottled in tight, haven’t you, lad?”
Leo sat back, his cheeks damp, his breathing more even. A half smile twisted his lips. “Lad?”
Thomas smiled. “There’s a part of my mind where you’ll always be that scared twenty-two-year-old who came to the club desperately looking for something—and finding it. And let’s not forget, once upon a time you were my sub.”
Leo smiled, the memories as sharp as if they’d been made yesterday. “Not for long, old man.”
Thomas leveled a hard stare at him, but Leo merely grinned back, recovered from his momentary lapse of self-control. Thomas reached across the desk and took Leo’s hand, surprising him—usually Thomas wasn’t given to displays of affection. “Leo, what you’re going through right now is normal. What’s more, it’s healthy.” Leo tilted his head. “Seriously! I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you talk like this.” He tightened his grip around Leo’s hand and gazed at Leo intently. “I understand you don’t want another sub. But there are subs here who used to hang on your every word. Praise from you was praise indeed, and they miss it.” The intensity of his expression waned a little, and he released Leo’s hand as he sat back in his chair. “They want Master Leo back. Hell, I want Master Leo back!”
Leo reflected on Thomas’s words. He couldn’t deny a single thing. He marveled at the cathartic power of that brief moment. That hot rush of anger had cleansed him in some way, burning away the impurities, refining him, leaving him drained and shaken… and something else.
Free. Finally free.
Thomas sat watching him, a knowing smile on his face. “Feeling better?” he asked.
Leo nodded. He really did.
“Then I think you should call it a night, leave me to get on with it, and grab a bite to eat.” Thomas’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe go to that nice Italian restaurant you took me to last week.”
Leo was nonplussed for a moment, and then he started to laugh. “Oh, very subtle!”
Thomas shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not? Better than going back to an empty apartment.” He looked out the window. “It’s a lovely summer’s evening. You could take a leisurely stroll to Severino’s and have a really nice dinner, and watch the floor show at the same time.”
About as subtle as a hammer, Leo thought. “That’s assuming, of course, he’s working tonight,” he said.
Thomas’s grin was far too smug. “Ah, so you do remember him.”
Leo shook his head, unable to prevent his smile. “You’re unbelievable, do you know that?”
To his surprise, Thomas got up and walked around to Leo’s side of the desk, holding out his arms. Leo stared at them for a moment, unsure how to react. He was seeing another side to his partner tonight. Thomas waited patiently, arms outstretched, and at last, Leo moved forward. Thomas held him, and the two men stood entwined for a moment, a sense of peace pervading the room.
Finally, Thomas stepped back, his eyes on Leo’s face. “I love you like a son, Leo. And I want you to be happy.” He smiled. “Because it’s about time.” Then he pushed Leo away with a grin. “Now go get some dinner.” He glanced at Leo’s attire with a wry smile. “Although, if I may make a suggestion… a change of clothing?”
“ALEX! There’s a customer in your zone that needs seeing to!”
“Thanks, Vittorio.” In the small utility room, Alex stopped folding the clean table linen and went out into the main kitchen area. Tuesday nights were usually quiet, and tonight was no exception. The restaurant had hardly any customers, only a few tables here and there. There was a football match on, and Manchester United’s games always drew a huge crowd. He peered through the window of the kitchen door and froze. Seated at table four was Mr. Hot-as-Fuck from last week. Oh, no way!
Sev passed by on his way to the fridges, and Alex touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Sev, I haven’t finished sorting the tablecloths yet,” he said, hating how feeble the excuse made him sound. Rather that than go out there and have those icy blue eyes on him once more. It may have been a week since he’d seen the guy, but for some reason, time hadn’t diminished the impact their first meeting had had on Alex.
Sev took him aside. “What’s wrong, Alex?”
Damn, his boss could be far too intuitive sometimes. Alex liked that Sev treated all his staff in the same manner: courteously and patiently. There was something about him that commanded absolute respect, and Alex admired him enormously, although he was as yet unable to look him straight in the eye. But then, making eye contact with anyone was a huge obstacle for Alex, and he’d been working hard to overcome it, but it wasn’t easy. Something in him recoiled at the mere thought.
Alex turned to Sev, eyes downcast. “Please don’t ask me why, but is there anyone else who can go out there right now?”
Sev let out a patient sigh. “Alex, you’ve been dealing with customers all week, and you’ve done it really well.” Alex’s cheeks heated at the praise. “So what’s the problem?” Sev glanced through the window, and Alex heard the slow exhale. “Ahhhh, I see.” A small chuckle rolled out. “Mr. Hart won’t bite you—not unless you ask him to, of course.” What? Alex frowned, not understanding the comment, and Sev chuckled again. “Ignore me. Just get out there and take his order. If it’s an incentive for you, he’s a good tipper.” Still chuckling, Sev continued on his way, and there was nothing left for Alex to do but get out there.
He took a deep breath before pushing through the kitchen doors and weaving through the tables to where Mr. Hart was perusing the menu, deep in thought. Alex halted next to him, notepad in hand. “Would you care to order, sir?” The menu was lowered to the table, and Mr. Hart gazed u
p at him. Blue eyes met his for a fraction of a second before Alex hurriedly looked down at the pad in his hand.
“Good evening.” That firm, deep voice flowed over Alex like a caress. “May I know the name of my waiter this evening?”
Alex could hear the amusement in his tone. “My name is Alex,” he said, and then tried to shift things back onto their proper course. “What would you like to drink?”
“Well, Alex, seeing as I’m going to have the Filete Rossini, I’d like a glass of your house red. That’s always eminently drinkable.” Alex noted the wine and the main course. “I’d like a green salad to start, please.”
Alex bobbed his head, scribbling on his pad. “Is that everything, sir?” he asked, casting a fleeting but longing look toward the kitchen.
“For the moment, Alex.”
Again there was that undercurrent of amusement. Alex couldn’t help but shiver. Hearing his name uttered by that warm, deep voice was having the strangest effect on him. A frisson of electricity skated along his spine, and his cock stiffened. Time to go. He bumped into the table, and Mr. Hart reached out with lightning reflexes to right the wineglass, which tottered precariously.
“Easy there!”
Alex was mortified. “I’m so sorry—”
“No harm done,” he declared easily, handing over the menu. Alex took it with trembling hands. Why did this man affect him so strongly? With his height and long, gangly limbs, Alex was used to feeling ill at ease around others, but his performance this evening took his previous failings and sent them plummeting to new depths. If this went on, he could see Sev banning him from the restaurant altogether.
Carefully edging away from the table, he scurried into the kitchen, sanctuary yet again from the scrutiny of Mr. Hart. Even as he scooted off, he could feel those eyes boring into him, judging him, finding him wanting. Okay, so he’d imagined that last part. But to his way of thinking, Mr. Hart would feel like that. What was there about Alex that would invite the attention of someone like Mr. Hart?
AS ALEX picked his way through the tables, Leo smiled.
“It is so good to see you smile again, my friend.”
Leo twisted in his seat to find Sev standing behind him.
Leo looked in the direction of Alex’s departing figure. “What’s the story, Sev?” he asked, knowing full well there was one.
Sev’s eyes followed Alex, an affectionate expression on his face. He too smiled, before meeting Leo’s gaze, winking at him. “And what makes you think I am going to tell you?” he declared, eyes dancing with amusement. “No, I think not, Mr. Big Bad Dom. This one, you will have to work out all by yourself.”
Leo shook his head, laughing as Sev gave him a triumphant smile before walking toward the kitchen. “Then be prepared to see a lot more of me, my friend,” Leo murmured under his breath. He grinned. God, how he loved a challenge. And this one promised to be most interesting.
“ALEX! Your stalker is at table three.”
Alex frowned at Vittorio, genuinely puzzled, and then the penny dropped. “Oh, you mean Mr. Hart.” He chuckled. Stalker, indeed.
“Well, what else would you call him?” demanded Vittorio, smirking widely. “He must have been here at least four times a week for the past month!” He winked at the other staff in the kitchen. “And he always sits in your area.”
Alex blinked nervously. As yet, no one in the restaurant knew he was gay, although he had a sneaking suspicion Sev knew more than he was letting on. The closest he’d come to telling anyone was one afternoon on a break with Pietro. Alex liked the forthright trainee chef, who was always cheerful and took the time to chat with him. But the moment had passed without him saying anything. Alex swallowed. He wasn’t sure how his coming out would be received. They seemed a good bunch, and he’d put out a few feelers, trying to gauge their attitudes. As yet, no one had registered on his internal homophobe-o-meter, so maybe he was worried about nothing.
Alex caught Pietro’s eye. Pietro was nodding imperceptibly, his eyes gleaming wickedly. Alex recalled their conversation a couple of weeks ago, and all of a sudden he knew exactly what Pietro was begging him to say. Oh, what the hell….
“At least I have a stalker,” Alex said with a grin. “You’re just jealous.”
Vittorio’s eyebrows lifted. “Hey,” he exclaimed indignantly. “I have my share of lady admirers.” He glanced around at his audience, a smug smile on his lips. “What about that really hot woman two weeks ago? She asked specifically for me to serve her! And you all saw her kiss me before she left.” Vittorio preened.
Oh, talk about a gift…. Alex readied for the kill. He winked at Pietro before continuing. “Yeah, but what you neglected to mention was, she’s your aunt.”
There was a moment of silence, and then the kitchen erupted into raucous laughter. Vittorio’s mouth dropped open, and he stared red-faced at Alex as his workmates laughed until tears ran down their cheeks. Vittorio quickly exited. One or two of the others patted Alex on the shoulder, congratulating him. “Nice one, Alex!”
Alex felt the wave of affection flow toward him, and he exhaled. Thank God, that had gone well.
Pietro sidled up to him and high-fived him, grinning hugely. “Ooo, that was good!”
“Yeah, but I owe it all to you,” Alex acknowledged gratefully. “If you hadn’t let me in on that little tidbit….” All of a sudden he realized his customer was waiting for him. “Shit! Mr. Hart!” He reached for his notepad and headed through the kitchen doors.
Mr. Hart was seated with his back to him, and Alex took a moment to contemplate his form. There was no denying he was a really good-looking man: broad shoulders, what seemed to be a thickly muscled back, thick arms…. Alex was glad of the opportunity to observe him unnoticed. Vittorio had been fairly accurate in his estimate of just how many times Mr. Hart had eaten in the restaurant recently. And always in Alex’s zone.
“When you’re ready to take my order, Alex.” That deep voice held amusement.
Alex gave a start. Busted. Did the man have eyes in the back of his head? Flushing, he moved toward the table and opened the notepad, pen poised to write. He was conscious of Mr. Hart’s gaze, knew the man was giving him the once-over as usual, but nothing would’ve induced him to meet that cool stare.
“What can I get for you this evening, Mr. Hart?” Alex was proud his voice betrayed none of the nerves he always suffered when this close to the man. Despite the fact he’d served him every time, they’d barely spoken beyond the odd comment about the weather, or compliments about the food or the wine. Alex was at a loss—why did Mr. Hart insist on coming back to him? It certainly wasn’t because of his scintillating conversation.
“How about something a little different tonight? What would you recommend?”
Alex thought for a moment. He now had a fairly good idea of what the man liked, after all. “You might like the chef’s new pasta dish, sir. It’s tortellini stuffed with sage and ricotta.”
Mr. Hart pursed fine-looking lips, considering his suggestion. Then a smile broke out across his face. “That sounds delicious, Alex,” he said appreciatively. “And a glass of Pinot Grigio Blush sounds perfect to go with it.”
Alex gave a polite nod as he started to leave, but Mr. Hart stretched out a long, slim hand to stop him. Alex tensed, surprised by the physical contact.
“Alex, you’ve been serving me for a month. Surely we’re past the ‘Mr. Hart’ stage by now? I’d like you to call me Leo, if you will.”
Alex stilled. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Then he reconsidered. He’d grown comfortable around Mr. Ha—Leo, he corrected—in the past month, and although he still avoided eye contact, it was easier being around him. Yeah, he could do that.
“Very well…. Leo,” he said, and the fact that Leo’s smile notched up even more made him absurdly pleased he’d agreed.
“Thank you, Alex. I mean that,” Leo said, and Alex could hear the sincerity in his words.
Alex nodded, blushing, and headed
for the kitchen.
LEO savored the last piece of delicate pasta. Excellent choice, the sage and ricotta blended perfectly together. He closed his eyes, humming appreciatively.
“Glad to see you still enjoy good food, Leo.”
He opened his eyes to find Sev regarding him warmly. Perfect timing. “Good evening, Sev.” He put down his fork and pushed the plate away. “Just the man I wanted to see.” He glanced around to make sure Alex was nowhere in sight. “Have you got a minute? I have to pop back to the club after this, but I wanted to speak with you first.”
Sev nodded, pulling back the chair and seating himself next to Leo. “What can I do for you?”
“I need a little information.” Quickly, Leo told him what he was after, and more importantly, why.
Sev’s smile grew wider. “Certainly, my friend.” He clasped Leo’s hand in his. “I would be delighted. Give me a moment, and I shall return with what you require.” He got up, pushed the chair neatly into place, and paused for a moment. “And, Leo? It makes me very happy to hear this from you. Very happy indeed.” The smile became a beam of delight, which proved infectious, and Leo beamed back at him. Sev took his leave, and Leo watched him cross the floor to the kitchen, grinning.
Step one accomplished.
ALEX glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Only half an hour to go, and his shift would be finished. It had been a long Thursday. He’d started at eleven thirty with the lunch crowd, but his shift didn’t end until nine—not that he was complaining. He kept checking his savings account balance online, along with the rental property sites. Not long now, and he’d be able to afford a place of his own. Sev had promised he could continue working at the restaurant until a marketing job came up, but the job market was looking pretty poor right now. So many graduates on his course had no job at all. Alex counted himself so lucky.