“Wonder who bought it?” a male voice asked behind him.
Alexander’s heart seized and his chin dropped to his chest for a long moment. His eyes stupidly pricked. All was not lost—yet.
Eric could have pinpointed Alexander in Time Square on New Year’s Eve. In a half-empty gallery showing, identifying that expensive black cashmere jacket over those broad shoulders and that salt and pepper hair? Easy.
The man slowly raised his head and turned to face Eric.
“Word on the street says it’s some sentimental fool.” His mouth inched up into a smirk, because why not? He was a sentimental fool—for buying the Klimt, for coming to see the man he knew would be here, for venturing out in a goddamned blizzard and walking four blocks to get here because the taxi pussies wouldn’t come down this side street in a storm.
Alexander took two steps forward. “Sentimentality has its place.”
“Now that is a surprise.” He flicked his eyes up to the painting and circled Alexander to stand before it. “Tell me you didn’t fly up in this snowstorm. The commercial flights have all been cancelled.”
Alexander moved to stand next to him. “Benefits of having your own jet. Can fly into a nearby regional airport.”
“Yes, I guess so.” He stared hard at the painting. “You here to buy back the Klimt?”
“No. I came here for you.” Alexander cleared his throat. “To thank you.”
His eyebrows shifted. “For?”
“For bringing Rebecca back to me. For reminding me who I am.”
He squared himself to the man, searched his face for any hint of humor or, worse, pity.
“Rebecca told me you were interested in me. A while back. When we were at the Wynters.”
“Interest doesn’t begin to cover how I feel about you.” What the hell. Truth was better than hiding the obvious—or should he say the obvious to everyone but Alexander.
“Good. You always bring things back to me, Eric. Now it’s my turn.”
“Going to make me an offer for the painting?”
“I told you. I’m not here for the Klimt. I’m here for you. I never chase after people.” He blew out a sharp breath. “But you? Well, obviously, I should never say never because here I am. Coming for you. Care to come back to Accendos? Permanently?”
Fuck him. The-man-who-doesn’t-chase-after-anyone came for him. Alexander hadn't pursued even Rebecca, but he'd come after him. A long minute stretched. Jittery nerves threatened to slip his control, but he subdued them with one long breath.
Alexander finally dropped his hand. Those icy blue eyes made him want to drop to his knees, grab the man in a hug, and run like hell, all at once. Fuck him, indeed. This couldn’t be happening. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Give up my fabulous single life? All those men beating down my door every night? I don’t know, Alexander.”
“You use humor when you’re nervous.”
Yeah, well, Alexander used force. Which was worse? How about being used? That was worse. “I won’t be a replacement for Charles.”
“Charles is dead.” The words hurt Alexander. A sliver of pain had run across his eyes, but then it was gone. “He was a long time ago and now … I’ve missed you. I care for you.”
Eric swallowed.
“I see you don’t believe me. I more than care for you.” Alexander’s breath drew in. “You and Rebecca … you’re my last loves.”
Eric turned back to look at the painting because he needed a moment. Hell, he needed a full day to understand those words—words he’d have killed to hear a month ago. “I don’t usually buy things. I travel light. Paintings, in particular, don’t fit well in suitcases.”
“No. They don’t, but it would fit on my plane.”
Eric let out a half laugh. He shook his head slowly from side to side and studied his shoes. He ran his hand down his chin and then squared himself to Alexander. “Okay. I’ll go.” His voice cracked some strange heaviness in the air. “But only because you brought the jet.”
Alexander snorted a laugh. “Prima donna.”
“Look who’s talking. Needing Rebecca and me.”
Alexander eyed him. “You may be the only person willing to talk to me like that.”
“Willing to take the punishment.”
Alexander held out his hand, which Eric took. Alexander yanked him into his chest. “And you will be punished,” he said into his ear. “You know what I can do on a plane.”
Eric’s head pulled back. “Promise?”
“I always keep my promises.”
“I know.” They stepped back and eyed one another for a long minute.
“You ready to go?” Alexander asked. “I have reservations for dinner. I made them for three.”
“So sure of me?”
He shrugged. “No … but it’s Christmas, traditionally a time for hope. Or so Rebecca reminds me.”
“She’s here, too?”
“Outside in the limo.”
Eric chuffed. “Of course she’s in a limo.”
Alexander circled his shoulder and led him to the doorway. Outside, snow flurries swirled all around them, and a vehicle that resembled more tank than limo. In the doorway, under the enormous pendant lantern, Alexander roughly turned him. His lips came down on him, hard, forcing his mouth open. As soon as tongues touched, flamed licked up Eric’s skin as if they’d been dropped into the middle of the Sahara. For several long seconds, he lost himself in that strong mouth, the calloused hands on each side of his neck.
When Alexander broke the kiss, he kept one hand around Eric’s neck. Those eyes as bright and blue as a summer sky bored into him.
Eric licked his bottom lip. “If that’s your idea of punishment … ”
Alexander dropped his hand, laughed, and swung open the tank-slash-limo door himself. “Get in.”
Inside, a smiling Rebecca sat with legs crossed, a tea mug in her hand, not the expected champagne.
She smiled at him. “Runner.”
“Elf Queen.”
As soon as he was settled on the seat, she nestled her tea mug in a drink holder and straddled his lap. She flattened her hands on both sides of his face. “I love you, Eric Morrison. So, next time, you’re taking us with you.”
“Next time?”
“That you disappear. It’s a new deal I’ve struck with Alexander.” She turned and smiled at the man. “If any of us wants to run, we can, but only if we take the other two with us.”
“Interesting.” Guess his days of traveling light were over. Settling down? Hell, yes.
50
Alexander swung her in a wide arc across the Library floor. Somehow he managed to avoid crashing them into the other dancing couples under the strings of fairy lights hung in graceful crescents from beam to beam.
Her breath caught in her lungs from excitement. The string music from the small orchestra players on the gallery above showered sounds down on them, and the smaller crowd—just seventy-five people over Accendos’ usual three hundred for Christmas Eve—smiled and laughed as they raised wine glasses to their lips or swished across the floor in a waltz.
His blue eyes fixed on her. “Was I right?”
“You were. It is better.” The gown’s gossamer fabric did feel amazing against her bare ass. His one request tonight—at least the only one she’d heard so far—was she wear no panties under her custom gown of midnight blue tulle and silk. And it felt amazing.
She let her back arch, and Alexander’s arm cradled her as he swung her again. She wanted to see the thousands of tiny lights mimicking stars on the ceiling. She may not see stars in the night sky, but Alexander ensured she’d see them anyway. He’d had the turreted ceiling painted a deep indigo with glow-in-the-dark constellations scattered across its surface.
“As good as the stars in West Virginia?” he asked.
She lifted her head. “I don’t know. I was never there.” The truth now spilled from her lips as natural as breath.
“I know.”
Her
mouth dropped open. “You knew.” Oh, God, was he angry?
“I did.” He drew her into him tighter, his lips inching up into a smile. “You think I’d let you disappear again?”
“No. And, thank you for that.”
“Thank Eric. Ultimately, he was the one who found you.”
Her gaze landed on Eric. Even behind the black mask, she’d never mistake him. He really knew how to wear that tux, almost as well as Alexander. Eric, as usual, fended off two or three of the ball’s other female guests. That one’s mine, her inner voice called. As was the man currently spinning her in another arc. Now, she’d only say it silently, as the jealous green monster, while not entirely gone, had little sway over her. Who could feel anything but happiness under such stars, even ones made of glow-in-the-dark paint?
She let herself get lost in the rhythm, the cinnamon and clove scents, and lights—and Alexander’s arms holding her.
“Mind if I cut in?” Eric’s lips lifted into a half smirk. The man would not eradicate that facial expression despite Alexander’s persistent attempts to make him do so—something Eric had confided in her. No matter, as she wouldn’t change a hair on his head, just so long as he stayed.
Alexander’s lips tugged up into a half smile. “Only if you give her back.”
“I always do.” Eric swept her into his arms, earning a small titter from her throat.
“There’s enough of me to go around.”
“We know.” Eric’s eyebrows waggled. “Of course, we’re going to make you prove that.”
“My pleasure.”
A glance Alexander’s way showed he lacked no company after being let go. Carina Rose grasped his arm. He bowed and took her into a chaste, dancing embrace.
Okay, so perhaps the jealousy would never be too far from her heart. She’d spent far too long without these men. She wasn’t about to lose them again—or herself.
Tony’s voice drifted to her ears. “Sir, someone is here. Someone not on the guest list.”
She had the curious sensation Alexander had stilled, letting go of Carina. Eric stopped dancing at the same time. They glanced at one another, and as if possessing a sixth sense, the two of them joined Alexander.
“Carina, may I interest you in a dance?” Eric bowed to her, and her smile was worth every diamond in the place. And there were a lot of jewels tonight. Eric crooked his elbow toward Carina and nodded at Alexander—a secret message passing between them. That was another thing Rebecca hadn’t expected. Eric and Alexander had fallen into a rhythm as if they were two instruments meant to duet. She, as well, found she could spend time with either of them, alone or together. Regardless, whatever form they took felt right.
“Everything okay?” she asked Alexander.
His lips pursed as Tony whispered in his ear.
“Rebecca, why don’t you get us some champagne? I have something to attend to.”
“If you’re going to work—”
“No, Marston is here.”
Again? “I want to see him.” She wasn’t sure where those words came from, but they slipped over her tongue, leaving a curious taste, not bitter but not welcoming. Rather, she was curious. Why would he sacrifice his own Christmas Eve to continue to needle them?
Oh. How had she not put the pieces together before now? She grasped Alexander’s arm. “Please. It’s the Christmas holiday. I think I need to see him.”
“He tried to take down this club. I can’t let him inside it.”
“He has nowhere else to go.” It seems this truth thing also had a mind of its own because the idea that perhaps Marston was alone arose so fast her brain couldn’t keep up with her mouth.
He took her arm and led her off the dance floor and into the hallway. By the blue blaze of his eyes, he wasn’t going to yield easily on this one. “This man tried to blackmail me. This club. And you.”
The angry, whispered words only raised more sympathy for Marston, which was ridiculous because why would it? “No, he didn’t. He made an offer that I’d have been foolish to refuse back then, despite the fact that it turned out to be wrong. Can you imagine what it was like for him? Having those people as parents? Being gay and seeing what they’d done to Charles? I was his way out.”
His brows furrowed. “What?”
“You know his parents … ”
“No, I mean being gay.”
“I thought you knew. I mean, it was so obvious. In fact, I think he was in love with you. I’ve always suspected it. I mean, why keep after you all these years except he was frustrated and trying to get your attention?” She shrugged. “I can tell you from experience you’re not an easy man to get over.”
He shook his head a little as if disbelieving her. “He’s not in love with me. He hates me.”
“Love and hate are a fine line. Let’s go find out.” She turned to head down the hallway toward the entranceway, the likeliest place Marston would be.
Alexander’s large palm stopped her. “No. I won’t let that man near you again.”
“It’s not me he wants. Never was.” The more she talked about it, the more she knew she was right.
A long second passed, his blue eyes assessing her face but not seeing her. He was thinking. “Stay here. Tony.” He jerked his chin toward the man who’d hovered behind them. “See she gets back inside.” He looked down at her. “Yes, mo rúnsearc. Remember, you’re not a prisoner here, but I want you safe when he’s in the area. “
Okay, she’d give him that one, but only if he considered her idea that maybe, just maybe, Marston had been attempting to get Alexander’s attention all this year, and not to destroy him.
“And you’ll consider what I said?” She clasped her hands together at her chest.
He didn’t answer. He turned on his heel and headed to the front of the Club.
She inhaled deeply and took Tony’s outstretched arm. She’d tried.
As Alexander approached, he noted that Marston stood in the same place he had the last time he’d breached this entranceway, hands in pockets, staring up at the DaVinci line drawing that had once hung in his parent’s house.
He didn’t turn when Alexander strode in, and he had made no effort to be quiet.
“I’ve always hated this rendering. Black and white scratchings.”
“My gain then.”
Marston finally turned. “Oh? Huh.” The man swayed a tad. He’d been drinking.
“Not an art fan?” Why was he asking this man anything? Perhaps because Rebecca’s words unexpectedly rattled him. “Why are you here, Marston?”
The man shrugged. “Thought I’d wish my ex-wife a Merry Christmas, that’s all.”
“You have a cell phone.”
“Not sure you’d let her talk to me.”
Oh, yes, he’d been drinking.
“I don’t monitor her calls.” Alexander strode forward more. “Rebecca has some strange ideas about you and me.”
His brows inched up, and his face reddened a little. “Oh?”
Marston wasn’t angry. He was embarrassed. This was beyond peculiar, and suspicion grew. “She thinks you have nowhere else to go.” Alexander began to walk a wide circle around the room. “Strange, given you have $200 million to work with. Surely you have friends.” He stopped and stared at the man. “Lovers.” No way would he let this man go out into the D.C. streets, drunk and unstable. He’d make him walk it off.
“I’m … between things right now.”
“What did you expect? You’d come here and find me also ‘between things’ and needing comfort?” Why not push it a little, take a page out of Eric’s playbook. Getting Marston’s adrenaline flowing would burn off some liquor. Then he’d throw him out.
Marston scoffed and that red stain across his cheeks blurred to a fire. “I don’t need you.”
“But you want me?”
The man swallowed too hard for Alexander to discount what Rebecca had said. She’d been at least half right. Which half, he didn’t know.
“Like I said,
I don’t need you,” the man gritted out.
“Wasn’t my question.”
Marston seemed to regain his ground quickly because a smile spread across his face. “You know, when you first arrived at our house in Connecticut, I knew you were arrogant, but this idea … this … ” The man seemed to grasp for words, so why not help him out. It was Christmas after all.
“This idea is true?”
Marston cleared his throat and his face fell into a frustrated scowl. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me after Charles died? Left alone with those two?”
The man didn’t need to elaborate on which “two” he referenced. He began to pace, and Alexander found himself in an odd walk about with the man—he on one side of the round portico stepping slowly, Marston on the other, mirroring his movements.
Marston seemed to be in a mood to talk. “The night he died, we had a terrible fight. Mother going on and on about how Charles wouldn’t have died if he’d never met you.”
“He didn’t get sick because of me.”
“I know. He’d always been a free spirit. Brave. I knew what he did when he snuck out, starting at age fifteen. Then when he went to school, the constant fights and threats of expulsion. Someone in this family had to balance out his entrenched need to be a black sheep.”
His need? “How about he was just being himself?”
“Yeah, well I never got to be that.”
Okay, Rebecca’s thoughts could be true.
“Being non-normative in this culture hasn’t been easy for anyone. Gay, bi, trans or whatever. It’s never been easy, Marston. But you like easy, don’t you?”
The man stopped. “When is it my turn?”
He was stunned. Rebecca was one hundred percent right. How had he gotten this wrong? “Turn for what?”
The man made a motion like he was going to launch himself at Alexander, and his inner fight mechanism reacted. It was at that moment, Tony stepped inside and grasped Marston’s arm before he could get any closer.
Invincible (Elite Doms of Washington Book 6) Page 22