Aftermath

by Tricia Owens

  “Whatever you say,” Felix said, sounding unconvinced.

  Despite the pressure Max was applying to the older man, he felt curiously dispassionate. Ethan was the true flame at the moment, ready to burn everything with his anger. Max recognized how upset his lover was, but he forced himself not to care. Not just yet.

  “Ethan asked to be allowed to do this campaign,” he told Felix. “He understands that it may directly affect my company and me, but he has defended your motives and the outcome.”

  “And he’s right to.”

  Max met Ethan’s furious gaze. “Yes, I’ve chosen to believe him.”

  Ethan’s lips parted in surprise, but Max wasn’t finished.

  “You have my permission to use my husband in your campaign, Mr. Felix. Ethan has bet his integrity on you. I must respect that. I look forward to seeing the finished work. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

  “But what was all—”

  Max didn’t wait for Felix to finish. He opened the door and let himself out of the limo without another word.

  His shoes snapped crisply on the concrete floor of the parking garage as he headed for the elevator that would take him up to the level where his Mercedes was parked. He was still several yards from the elevator when he heard the limo door slam behind him and footsteps hurrying up. Max bided his time and then abruptly turned and surged forward in two steps, forcing a controlled crash between him and Ethan, whom he immediately manhandled into the shadows.

  “Max! What the hell are you doing?” Ethan tried to shove him off, but Max forced his back against a pillar to hold him in place. “What was all the caveman garbage back there? Have you lost your mind?”

  “No.”

  Green eyes widened a second before they narrowed with anger. “So you’re just screwing with him. And me, too. Thanks for making me look like a complete fool and nothing but your prized possession, Max.”

  “You are my prized possession,” Max said, and slid his hand behind Ethan’s neck to hold him as he brought their mouths together.

  Ethan wasn’t having it. He cursed against Max’s lips and shoved at his shoulders. Max had to put his weight into keeping Ethan pinned, conscious that if the blond man really wanted his freedom, he had the skills to achieve it.

  But Ethan fought only enough. Only enough to send the message to Max that he was angry and disappointed with him. Max heard him loud and clear.

  He released Ethan’s neck to grab his wrists instead, slamming them to the pillar on either side of Ethan’s head. He forced a knee between Ethan’s thighs to part his legs, and then rubbed up against the erection that was as hard as his own.

  “I wanted to fuck you mindless,” Max panted as he broke away to suck on Ethan’s ear. “Seeing you posing like that. You were gorgeous.”

  “Fuck, Max…” Ethan released a low moan as Max grinded against him, letting him feel how powerfully the photoshoot had affected him.

  “Would you have let me?” Max asked as he dragged Ethan’s wrists higher above his head.

  “Let you…what?” Ethan closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the pillar as Max’s lips found his throat.

  “Fuck you there. While your ex-boyfriend watched.”

  Ethan went still beneath him, though the pulse in his cock raced where it pressed into Max’s hip.

  “Why is this about him?” Ethan demanded. He tried to tug his wrists free. “Why don’t you trust me?”

  “Don’t be absurd. I trust you with my life.”

  “But not with your career or your ego.” Ethan struggled again. “Let go.”

  Max released his wrists but leaned away only far enough for them to be able to focus on each other. “He accused me of being jealous. You claim I see you as a possession. It appears you’re both correct. I won’t apologize for that, Ethan. You’re mine.”

  “Please, you’re better than that, Max. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.”

  He pushed, and Max stepped back without protest, giving Ethan space. Unlike in the back of the limo, Max felt the full force of Ethan’s emotions and the experience twisted his insides like food poisoning.

  He opened his mouth to explain himself, but at the last minute he changed his mind. Ethan, watching him, slumped slightly at his decision. The anger on his face dissolved, but the disappointment that replaced it didn’t make Max feel any better.

  “I wish you’d value my judgment, Max. I’m more than someone you lust over and I’m more than someone you keep from other men.”

  “If you truly believe I think that—” Max began, stung.

  “I don’t know what to think.” Ethan shook his head, looking lost. “You haven’t found your footing since Axel outed us.”

  Max had to bite back the scathing defense he yearned to make. He wasn’t used to being questioned…and realized that this must be how Ethan felt.

  He reached up to cup Ethan's cheek but Ethan leaned away. Swallowing thickly, Max lowered his hand. His insides churned, but he let nothing show on his face or demeanor.

  “I apologize,” Max said quietly. “I won’t interfere with this assignment again. I hope when it’s complete, you’ll feel comfortable sharing the results with me. If that’s not the case, I won’t be resentful.”

  “Of course I’ll share it. I want you to see what I can do.”

  “I got a very nice glimpse of it earlier,” Max reminded him, feeling the low hum of arousal again. “Perhaps I can hire you for a private shoot. Under my direction.”

  Ethan smiled, but faintly, as though his heart weren't completely in it. “I think that sounds sexy.”

  “So do I,” Max said stonily.

  He stepped back farther. “I’m keeping you from your client. He’s not paying for you to cavort with me in the shadows of parking garages.”

  “I’ll have to check the contract, but you may be right.” Ethan caught Max’s eye as he shifted to go. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Whatever’s going on with you—let it go. I’m coming back to you tonight. Like every night.”

  Max nodded and watched him walk back to the limo, his gait slightly stiff as though his erection hadn’t completely subsided. Max wished he could call Ethan back, but he’d given his lover permission. Now it had to play out, for better or worse.

  Chapter Nine

  A knock sounded on the door of Maxmillian’s office. Though he recalled that he’d requested the visit, he couldn’t help the stab of annoyance that he was being interrupted during his work.

  He was ‘hangry’ as Ethan enjoyed claiming whenever Max’s temper shortened at the end of the work day. Max found the adjective childish and to avoid the accusation had resorted to installing a small refrigerator in his office that, unlike the larger one in the employee breakroom, could hold a small salad or fruit bowl without fear of contamination by the odors of spoiled burritos and convenience stores sandwiches. He’d eaten half a salad upon returning to the office from the Cosmopolitan, but in hindsight he realized he should have gone home and eaten a proper meal prepared by Analisa.

  He was indeed ‘hangry’. Or make that simply angry. At himself.

  “Enter,” he called out, keeping his voice even. He closed the tab he’d been viewing on the computer and looked up to face Giuliani, who entered with his typical, confident swagger.

  “Yes, Mr. Poole,” the Italian agent said amiably as he slid into one of the chairs facing Max. “You have an assignment, I assume? Or were you looking for someone to chew the fat with?”

  Max regarded him from beneath lowered lids. “When have I ever engaged in gossip with you or any agent?”

  Giuliani laughed and adjusted his tie. “Well, you know, never. Wasn’t suggesting anything about you, sir. Or that you’d gossip about anyone…” He trailed off, his smile uncertain.

  “I called you here for business reasons.”

  “Of course, sir. And that’s why I’m here!”

  “How fortuitous.” Max drawled.

  “I also thoug
ht,” Giuliani went on, smiling charmingly as though he couldn’t help himself, “that perhaps you wanted to get the scoop on what others have been saying. Not our agents,” he added hastily when Max narrowed his eyes. “Word on the street, that sort of thing.”

  Max was intrigued, though he somewhat despised himself for being interested. He’d deliberately shut himself off from all but business and financial news in hopes of avoiding coming across anything personal regarding himself or Ethan. But the curiosity couldn’t be helped, he supposed. And it could be useful. Better to know what awful things were being said about him than to be blindsided by them at some point in the future.

  “Very well,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap, “what have you heard that you believe is of interest to me, Giuliani?”

  The handsome agent’s brown eyes widened as though he hadn’t expected Max to agree with him.

  “Ah, well, um.”

  “I don’t need a verbatim report,” Max said, concealing his amusement behind a cold front. “A general summation of the pertinent talking points will suffice.”

  “Right.” Giuliani scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, you’re aware that I have three sisters. Two of them are married but my younger one is dating a guy who seems okay, but no one thinks she’s serious about him. And you know what? Maybe there’s some smoke there because he’s got a wandering eye and I don’t trust him to—”

  “Giuliani.”

  The other man blinked, cleared his throat. “Right. As I was saying, when my sisters heard the news about my boss marrying one of my friends—and both being guys—they wanted to throw you a dinner and invite all our cousins and—”

  “They were pleased for us,” Max concluded. “Tell your sisters I appreciate their well wishes, though a dinner will likely be difficult given mine and Ethan’s schedules.”

  Giuliani beamed, proud. “They’re far from the only ones who feel that way, Mr. Poole. Every client I’ve had since Mr. Randolph made that announcement on TV has been supportive of you.”

  “That’s good to hear, though, as clients, I suspect they may be biased in our favor.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. A lot of these clients own businesses and they all agree that diversity is the right way to move forward.”

  Diversity. Max nearly cringed at the word, even if it did apply to him. He belonged to another class of people now, according to the world at large.

  “I provided security to Mrs. Dunning four days ago," Giuliani said. "If you weren’t batting for the other team she would have proposed to you. And only part of the reason is because of your looks. She kept telling me how courageous and strong you are—which I agree with—and that she’s going to tell all her associates to patronize The Elite Poole.”

  “Excellent.”

  Giuliani’s smile was a mile wide. “The mood is very positive, sir. Very, very positive.”

  “All positive?” Max arched a brow, skeptical.

  Giuliani smoothed out his tie, then adjusted the knot before smoothing out the ends again. His smile wobbled.

  “What have you heard?” Max asked patiently. He couldn’t be upset with Giuliani. The man obviously was reluctant to share any bad news and Max appreciated that loyalty.

  “Some…less than positive things,” Giuliani hedged with a nervous smile.

  “Such as?”

  “You’re familiar with the term machismo? It’s a big thing with Italians, and something like this—it brings it out of some men. In the wrong ways.”

  “As to be expected.”

  Giuliani nodded, but looked unhappy to be agreeing.

  “I was at the range yesterday,” he began hesitantly. “Heard some things from other shooters there. I didn’t recognize them, and I know most of the regulars, so they could have been tourists or no one important…” When Max continued to wait him out, Giuliani slumped. “I overheard them saying some dumb things about you. Just plain wrong.”

  “Such as?”

  Giuliani grimaced. “I’m not sure you want to hear them.”

  Max smiled thinly. “I seem to recall that you were the one to bring up this subject. Don’t lose your nerve now. I’m a grown man. I can handle an insult.”

  “Alright, but I want you to know that these are anomalies. Outliers.” When Max waved him to continue, Giuliani sighed. “These men at the range, they were making comments about how you must hold your gun. With a…limp wrist is what they said. And they were making dirty jokes about Ethan, too, and how he’s your personal holster—I’m sorry, sir. I don’t want to say anything further. I would have beaten them both if I didn’t know you would disapprove of that.”

  “A prudent decision,” Max murmured, though his blood boiled as he’d known it would once he’d agreed to let Giuliani bring up this subject. Did he feel more empowered for having heard the insults? Not particularly. A small, childish part of him wished Giuliani had gone ahead and given the guilty parties a bruise or two.

  Violence wouldn’t change their minds, though, and Max would never condone it in this situation. William Hilcox, his range owner friend, had warned him that the sentiment among those in the security industry or those tangentially associated with it was unfriendly to Max now that he was outed as a homosexual. Admittedly, Max had harbored the hope that what Hilcox had heard was confined to a certain group of men. What Giuliani had related, however, came from those outside the local circle, suggesting that the opinion was more widespread. Max was disappointed, but not surprised. He wished he could handle the news with more equilibrium since as it was, he wanted to lash out. Fortunately, his self-control was considerable—at least when it didn’t apply directly to Ethan—so Max absorbed the information from Giuliani and filed it away, though not as dispassionately as he would have liked. The barb still pricked.

  “I’m aware that my relationship with Ethan is controversial to some people,” he told Giuliani, who sat up a bit more, his guilt seeming to lift in response to Max’s measured tone. “It is not my job—nor the job of any Elite Poole agent—to change those people’s minds or to defend us against them. If those people happen to experience enlightenment, it will come at the hands of other sources, not because we took it upon ourselves to educate them. We are a security agency. We must focus on that.”

  “Of course, sir. I agree.”

  “Thank you for remaining professional even while off the clock, Giuliani. Your behavior reflected well on us, as it always has.”

  The praise lifted the corners of the agent’s mouth. “I’ll always have your back, Mr. Poole. Ethan’s, too. I hope you both know that.”

  “We both do, and we are grateful for it.” Max sat forward. “Now, any more ‘fat to chew’ or may we continue on to the reason I called you in here?”

  Giuliani rubbed his palms together. “I’m ready to work, sir. I always am.”

  His enthusiasm was slightly over the top to cover up his previous embarrassment. Max empathized. He detested forcing his agents to think about and deal with his personal life, especially his sex life. It was no business of theirs and he doubted they wanted it to be. But the cat was out of the bag, and at least Giuliani seemed to be dealing with the fallout with poise.

  “I’d like you to look into a possible stalking case,” Max began. He turned to his computer and typed for a few seconds. “I’ve emailed you a pair of files containing all the information I believe you’ll need.”

  “Isn’t this work normally given to an investigator?” Giuliani asked.

  “Normally, yes. I’d like you to look into this quietly, if you would.”

  The Italian agent studied Max for a moment before nodding with understanding. Max had utilized Giuliani’s investigative background on occasion, most notably to tail Ethan when the blond had first come to Las Vegas. The majority of investigative work required by the agency was outsourced to specialists. They provided Max with all the information he needed to determine how much risk a potential client brought with them and whether it was
to the agency’s benefit to take them on. But when Max needed something done privately—off the books—he went to Giuliani for it.

  “What do you need to know, specifically?” the agent asked.

  “Whatever you can find within two days. Prioritize the alleged stalker. I want to know where she’s been for the last few months and whether she’s had any contact with her target, friendly or otherwise. Check bank records for both of them.”

  “Something smells fishy to you? You think it’s not a real stalking case?”

  “If I knew the answer to that we would not be having this discussion.”

  Giuliani grinned, unfazed by Max’s snappish retort. “Alright, you got it, Mr. Poole. Anything else?”

  “That will be all. Please submit your report to me via email or text. You and I will not discuss this matter in person again, understood?”

  Giuliani didn’t blink an eye. “Loud and clear. I’m your man on this.”

  Satisfied, Max sent him away, but once alone again in his office, he had trouble falling back into work. He hoped what he’d just done was the mere precaution of a businessman performing due diligence, and not the actions of the paranoid, jealous spouse that Ethan had accused him of being.

  ~~~~~

  Max stood at the opened refrigerator and debated whether to heat up a portion of the chicken tagine that Analisa had prepared for him and Ethan or go downstairs and eat at one of the restaurants located in the lobby of Radcliffe Place. The debate was a familiar one for him and Ethan. One of them was frequently out of the condo, working during the dinner hour, and leaving the other to fend for himself.

  Max had just decided on the Moroccan dish when the front door of the condo opened, admitting Ethan.

  Max shut the refrigerator and came out into the living room. “I didn’t expect you home. Your schedule has you listed for dinner with your client in Chinatown.”

  “Since technically I’m not providing him with security, he and I agreed that we didn’t need to stick to the schedule. I opted to come back early.” Ethan loosened his tie with a finger, his gaze intent. “I thought it more important that you and I talk.”