by Anna Zabo
Well, good. That’s what he wanted; the surprised look, the parted lips. With any luck, the transformation would impress Sam—and put Eli in his place.
Really think you’re going to be able to do that?
His pulse ticked up a notch. Focus on the CEO, not his sidekick.
“Dude,” Brian said between customers. “You look awesome.”
That coming from a straight guy. “Thanks.” He forced a smile onto his face. Time to head upstairs. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“You’d better.” Brian’s gaze lingered a bit too long before he shook his head and went back to slinging coffee.
Justin took the stairs up to S. R. Anderson Consulting and forced his heart rate and his cock down. Walking in with a hard-on wasn’t the impression he wanted to make. Professional but unique—that was the idea. They’d seen him in Grounds N’at, knew that version. Time to shake things up.
Justin brushed a bit of fuzz off his lapel. Thank goodness the thrift stores also got in unsold clothing. The suit had been a find.
Last step. Justin looked up—and met Eli’s gaze through the glass door to the office.
Holy shit. That smirk. Those gray eyes. Didn’t help calm Justin’s dick down at all.
The bastard pulled a pocket watch out of his vest—of course he was wearing a three-piece suit—and made a show of checking the time before he opened the door for Justin.
“I’m not late.” Justin brushed past Eli, aware of how warm he was. Hard, too. For this guy? Please.
“No, indeed. Seems you’ve come just a bit prematurely.”
Justin bit back the fuck you before it came out. Blowing the interview before he even saw Sam wouldn’t help him or Mercy. “Do you always meet candidates at the door?”
“Yes, actually.” Eli didn’t have his cane and didn’t make any move farther into the office, so Justin planted his feet and folded his hands behind his back. Kept him from fidgeting.
Which was good, because the predatory once-over Eli gave him sent ice straight to his feet and nearly had him on his knees. What the hell? Hadn’t felt that impulse in ages, not since he’d left Francis and the Scene behind in California. “You the receptionist?”
A low chuckle rattled Justin’s bones. “Chief financial officer. I like knowing what we’re spending our money on.”
Eli was the CFO? Oh hell. He schooled his expression. “I’m worth every penny.”
Wrong, wrong thing to say, because the flash of teeth Eli gave Justin wasn’t anywhere close to a smile and it sent a bolt of lust straight to Justin’s balls. “You don’t get to decide that.” He nodded toward the inner office. “Follow me.”
The cane wasn’t just for show, it seemed. Without it, Eli’s steps were more halting. An injury to his left leg? Something around the ankle? Not that Justin would ask. He suspected Eli wouldn’t answer anyway. Mercy didn’t talk about hers, though not having legs anymore was pretty visible to anyone with a brain.
Justin rolled his shoulders. He could do this. He’d done it before.
They stopped at the first office—a double office, but the first room was empty except for an assistant’s desk. The inner office was spacious, decorated, and contained Sam. He glanced at Justin before shifting to Eli and lifting his eyebrow.
“Justin’s arrived for his interview.” Now he knew what Eli’s amused tone sounded like, as if his heart weren’t hammering fast enough.
“Good morning.”
“Thanks, E. Justin, please take a seat.”
Eli retreated—to wherever CFOs retreated to. Justin didn’t care. He focused on the chair Sam had indicated and sat.
“Do you need anything before we begin? Water? Coffee?”
“You have coffee up here?”
Sam laughed and the knots in Justin’s back loosened. “No. I’d have to run downstairs.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good.” Sam took out a copy of Justin’s résumé. “Then let’s just jump in, shall we?”
Sam wasn’t kidding. His questions came, one on top of the next, digging through Justin’s work experience, his schooling, his thoughts on management and the work environment. After a half hour, Justin regretted not asking for water. His throat hurt from talking.
Sam leaned back and crossed his arms. “How do you feel about LGBT rights in the workplace?”
“Strongly in favor of them, seeing as I’m gay.” Justin folded his hands into his lap. “Why shouldn’t I have a photo of my boyfriend on my desk?” Justin shifted his gaze from Sam to the framed photo next to Sam’s monitor—a portrait of a brown-haired man in sunglasses and a garish shirt, lifting a margarita.
Sam’s chuckle redirected Justin’s attention. “Why not, indeed?”
“I don’t even mind working with straight people.”
That got him a bark of laughter. “Good, because we have a few here.”
He didn’t ask who. Part of him hoped Eli was one of them. The other part shivered. Why the hell was he thinking about that asshole? Because he was Sam’s CFO. That he looked stunning in a three-piece suit had nothing at all to do with it.
God, he so needed to find the Scene in Pittsburgh, especially if he got this job. Nothing like a forceful man in a business suit to fuck with his head. Or get him angrier than hell, especially after what that fuck Francis had done to him.
“If I took this position, would I be working for you exclusively?”
Sam sat forward. “Not entirely.” Now he knew what Sam sounded like when very amused. “You’d report to me, but some of your work would be directed by Eli.”
Of course. “I can handle that.” Fake it until you make it.
That sly smile didn’t fade. “See what you think after you interview with him.”
If that wasn’t a wet blanket . . . or an inferno. Please let that man be straight. “Is that who’s up next?”
“No. The engineering team. Eli’s always last, so the candidates can fall apart afterward in peace.”
He must have blanched, because Sam’s grin widened. “Kidding. Mostly.”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“See what you think after you interview with him.”
Fair enough.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to the people who work the real magic.” Sam rose.
Justin followed Sam deeper into the office, into an open space of desks, monitors, whiteboards, sticky notes plastered on a wall . . . and a Ping-Pong table.
Very nice.
Four engineers sat at a round table in the center of the space. Sam introduced them all before vanishing to the front of the office. “He’s all yours” were his parting words.
One of the four—Jen—handed him a bottle of water. “Surviving?”
“Yes. And thanks.”
“Sam makes you talk yourself dry.”
Another of the team—Fazil—snorted. “Better than what Eli does.”
Justin choked on the water. Not much, but enough for a ripple of amusement to move through the team. He cleared his throat. “What does Eli do?”
“Grills the shit out of you. He’s . . .” Fazil shrugged.
The blond—Adam—finished that thought. “Merciless and tough.”
“Unforgiving.” The fourth member spoke. Sertab, if Justin remembered the intros correctly. “But fair.”
“Don’t let them psych you out,” Jen said. “He’s not a monster.”
No, monster wasn’t the word Justin would use. Intense.
“So,” Adam drawled, “why here?”
Just like that, he was off and running again. By the end of the group interview, his head spun. Too many questions, too much laughter. Some of the conversation went over his head—he hadn’t been into computer science—and was honest about that.
“Dude doesn’t have to know programming. Just respect it,” Jen said to Fazil.
“Ping-Pong?” That from Sertab.
“Yes, though you’ll all probably beat the pants off me.”
&
nbsp; Approval. Good. They shuffled their papers and Fazil stood. “Ready for the endgame?”
Eli. Justin shrugged and rose. “I’m not worried.” Bravado and skill was the only way to survive in business.
Fazil led him to a large office across from Sam’s. No assistant’s space. Thank goodness. Eli swung around in his chair. No smile. “My turn at last.”
“So it would seem.” Justin stood inside the doorway.
“Good luck.” Fazil zipped away.
Eli pointed to one of the chairs behind a small table in the center of the room. “Have a seat, please.”
Well, here we go. Justin squared his shoulders and did as told.
* * *
Well, now, wasn’t Justin a picture of stress and tension in his suit. How delightful. Eli took the seat across the table from Justin and folded his hands. He owed Sam a dinner for two.
Everything about Justin’s outfit was calculated, down to the blue shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. The gray of his jacket and vest contrasted with the black of his tie, the latter matching his unnaturally dark hair. Somehow, that ragged cut looked perfect with the clean, crisp cut of the suit.
Justin had left the chipped polish. It fucked with Eli exactly as Sam suggested it might. What he wanted to do was bend Justin over the table between them and find out if he really did come right on time. Instead, Eli crossed his legs and leaned back. “Why is someone like you working in a coffee shop?”
Justin took a breath. “Because CMU is fucking hard.”
“Yes, I know.” Eli pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of two diplomas from Carnegie Mellon. Hard to miss, given their obnoxious size.
What a pretty blush Justin had. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Tepper School?”
“I was one of Don’s students.” Justin met Eli’s gaze. No eyeliner. Justin’s eyes were far bluer than Noah’s had ever been. A tingle in Eli’s leg was a reminder of the past he could not forget. He didn’t need that now, not during an interview.
“I know my shit.” No warble in Justin’s voice. No fear, or at least none showing. Good.
“You think you do. Time will tell if your ego matches your ability.” Eli tapped his good foot against the underside of the table. “You didn’t answer my question. Why the coffee shop? You could do better.”
Anger softened Justin’s voice down to the level of a lover’s. “Fuck you.”
If only. “That’s still not an answer, Mr. White.”
Justin drew a breath and rose from his seat. He pressed his hands flat on the table and leaned over, his whole body trembling in his fury. “Seriously. Fuck you. I’ve done my time in corporate America. Short hair. Clean-cut. Straight, conservative male. I don’t want to live like that.” He drew in a breath. “Downstairs, they don’t care how I dress or who I screw, as long as I can brew a good cup and keep the customers happy. Nice change of pace. You should try it sometime.”
“Check your assumptions.” Eli stood then spoke low but with the force that usually buckled men’s knees. “Sit down, Mr. White.”
Justin did, lips drawn into a circle, his eyes wide. Surprise and beautiful obedience. Good God. If Sam hired Justin, Eli would have to be careful not to walk over every line he desperately wanted to cross. What the hell was it about Justin? He was just another candidate.
Justin exhaled, the anger all but gone. “I’m sorry. That was way out of line.”
Very. Seemed he’d hit a sore spot. Eli waited.
Justin’s conviction returned, but without the fury. “I’m not an idiot, nor a freeloader. I do know my shit.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
There was the anger and pain again. “Yes, I could do better.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “But I want the best. That’s why I’m here.”
Now, that was a proper response. “Much better. Thank you.” Eli settled into his chair. “Do not make me get up again.”
A tremor shuddered through Justin.
Working with this one could be exceedingly fun, or utterly frustrating. Given how hard Eli’s cock was, probably both. “Now tell me about your work with Don.”
After the outburst, Justin spoke calmly and without the rancor that he’d carried. By the time he’d finished explaining his studies and capstone, Eli understood why Don Miller had taken on this hot mess. The potential in Justin, the intelligence. Focused, he could take on the world. Undoubtedly, Don had seen that, too. A perfect fit for Sam.
Why hadn’t Justin gone further at his age? Eli doubted it was Justin’s sexuality or style choice—but something had derailed Justin White. Oh, to pick the man apart and discover what. Sadly, his methods wouldn’t be appropriate.
Working together would be an interesting challenge, for both Eli and Sam, and very likely for Justin, too.
Eli softened his tone. “Thank you, Justin. That was nicely done.”
Praise spread a different kind of flush over Justin and his shoulders relaxed. “Is that—are we done?”
“There are some HR housekeeping details. My department, too, for the moment. Something Sam’s assistant will take over.” He’d very nearly said you. Eli rose, crossed to his desk, and picked up the application for Justin to complete, plus the list of benefits.
“I’ll give you some time to fill this out.” He handed the papers and a pen to Justin.
“Thanks.” The shake in Justin’s voice played along Eli’s nerves. He was far too hard—probably noticeably, too. But Justin focused on the papers in front of him.
Pity.
Eli made his way to Sam’s office and leaned against the doorframe. When had he gotten so breathless? When Justin sank at your command. No. Before that. Long before.
Sam gave him a once-over. “Looks like he made quite an impression on you.”
Of course Sam would notice what Justin had missed. “He’s an interesting man.”
“Engineering adores him.” Sam tapped his pen against his desk.
Ah, so he thought Eli would say no. A banner day when he could surprise Sam. “Of course they do. He’s edgy and charming.”
“You don’t want me to hire him.”
Eli laughed. “Actually, he’s perfect.”
The pen stopped moving, as did Sam. “What?”
“Hire him, Sam.” Eli pushed himself off the doorframe. “And you won that bet.”
Sam placed the pen down on desk. “Close the door, Eli.”
His turn to be surprised, but he did as Sam asked.
When he turned back, Sam was very much the CEO and less the friend. “What did you do to him?”
Fire burned in Eli’s veins. He did not like where this was heading. “What I do to every candidate, Sam. I asked questions.”
“You’ve never come from an interview with your cock tenting your pants.” Sam’s voice was surprisingly mellow, and that stripped the anger from Eli. “What did he do to you?”
“He yelled at me.” Turned him on. Reminded him of Noah. It wasn’t the look or the suit—though he’d seen Noah in one often enough. Standard issue for yeshiva. Eli shook his head.
Sam’s eyebrows rose into his hair—he’d definitely picked up Michael’s mannerisms.
“It was justified. I pushed. You’re right about him having balls.” Eli leaned against the door. “He’s exactly the person you’ve been looking for.”
Sam was silent for long enough to make Eli’s skin itch. “Can you work with him, despite your attraction?”
Eli snorted. “Of course.” One thing he did have control over was himself.
“Good.”
And just like that, they hired Justin White.
* * *
Halfway down the steps to the first floor Justin stopped and gripped the railing. He couldn’t tell how that had gone. Brilliantly? Horribly? Sam liked him well enough, and so did the engineers. Pretty sure Eli didn’t. If he weren’t such an asshole, he’d be hotter than sin. Imposing. Commanding. The last time Justin had obeyed without thought, he’d b
een naked and wearing Francis’s collar. And fuck if he needed Eli to remind him of that.
How dare Eli imply that Justin was a lazy shit because he worked at a coffee shop while studying at one of the hardest schools in the country? Chances were Eli’s parents had bought his education. There was nothing rags to riches about him. Justin had gotten into school both times on merit. He’d also excelled at the corporate job he’d shoved in Eli’s face, before he’d thrown it all away at Francis’s feet while Mercy was fighting in Iraq.
Are you pissed off at Eli or Francis or yourself?
Yes and no. Confused. He was used to disdain from someone like Eli. Not . . . niceness. Eli’s praise and gentleness once the hard questions had been answered had been unexpected and screwed with his mind and body. Hadn’t helped that Eli had seen him to the door.
I expect you’ll hear from us soon, he’d said.
Guess you’ll not be doing the post downstairs.
Not this time. He’d looked directly into Justin’s eyes and wet his lips with his tongue. Pity, that.
Like sex on ice. Justin shivered. He didn’t want to walk into the coffee shop sporting an obvious bulge.
Out one door and in the other. Brian opened his mouth, but Justin cut him off. “Gotta go, man. Drank too much water.” He grabbed his change of clothes from behind the counter and hightailed it toward the back.
Thank fuck no one was in the men’s room. The wood against his back was as hard and unforgiving as his cock. He could not be seen like this. Only one solution, really. He had to change out of his suit. No one would notice if he took a bit more time.
He dropped trousers and boxers, and wrapped a hand around his dick. He hadn’t been this turned on in ages. All because of a man who probably hated him. Justin braced against the wall and stroked.
Eli might be an ass, but he also had long, elegant fingers that looked good in black leather. Justin could imagine Eli’s gloved hand wrapped around his cock, jerking him off, his tall, hot body pressed against Justin. That deep voice whispering in his ear. You think you’re something, don’t you, Mr. White? I suppose we’ll see.
Fucker would probably get a kick out of ordering him around. Justin shuddered and bit back a moan.
Don’t you dare come yet. Not until I say.