He couldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t force Evan to go backward, to deny who he was, all for Clint to keep up this exhausting façade.
Tonight, he’d let him sleep. Tomorrow, he’d terminate their contract. The sooner Clint freed him from their arrangement, the sooner Evan could find someone deserving of his love. He kept that thought on repeat and eventually drifted off.
He blinked awake with the sun and frowned to discover he was alone. Maybe Evan had come to the same conclusion last night and did the smart thing by leaving. It was for the best, despite the gaping void his absence left in Clint’s world.
Sitting up, he drowned himself in his mental pity pool. What right did he have to regret this? To hate waking up alone? To know he’d be waking up alone for the rest of his days? It was the choice he’d made when he decided his family’s business meant more than his own happiness. He’d made his bed. Now he had to sleep in it.
Alone.
Evan walked in, a tray of assorted food and beverages in hand. Relief washed over Clint so strong, he lost his strength and collapsed against the headboard. Last night’s session had drained him. Supporting Evan so the restraints didn’t pull on his shoulders or cut into his tender wrists, while keeping them both on the edge for as long as he could, took serious stamina. It’d pushed him to his limit. Maybe a little beyond it.
But the sense of comfort, of absolute solace knowing Evan had stayed, overwhelmed Clint. He had to look away before the emotions tightening his throat surfaced.
“Good morning, handsome.” Evan hurried in and set the tray on Clint’s lap. “I hope you’re hungry.” He snuck in a kiss.
“What’s this?” He took it all in. Evan had to have ordered everything on the menu, including French toast. Clint’s favorite. He grabbed a piece and tore off a huge bite.
“Breakfast.”
“I can see that. What’s the occasion?”
He grinned, lighting up those incredible eyes. “Why does there have to be an occasion? Can’t I just make you breakfast in bed?”
“Did you make any of this?”
“Okay, fine. Can’t I just bring you breakfast in bed?”
Clint took another bite to cover his grin. He hadn’t had breakfast in bed since he had the flu when he was ten. It was a nice gesture, one he wasn’t about to turn away.
“Let me take care of you for a change.”
He stopped chewing. “Huh?”
Evan laughed and damn if the sound didn’t tighten in Clint’s chest. “You are always putting me first. Today’s your turn.”
He swallowed and repeated, “Huh?”
“You are so articulate.” He stole another kiss before rising off the bed, licking his lips. “I’m ordering you to take the day off. It’s time for Clint Duke to have a Duke Day.”
“You’re ordering me?” Clint couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually taken a day off. A day for himself? Unheard of. Dukes didn’t take the day off. They worked 24/7. Then again, that would explain why he’d buried his father, two of his uncles, and had his last uncle under the care of a personal physician. “What’s a Duke Day? Aside from what it sounds like.”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Evan countered. “You’re calling in sick.”
“Call in sick?” That was a foreign concept. No Duke had called in sick since the Kennedy administration. According to Clint’s father, Jefferson Duke used to brag about dragging his ass into the office with a high temp, like that was a good thing. It would explain why the man had died before he and Clint ever met. Franklin Duke used to push for the abolishment of paid sick leave, which was one of the many nails in the coffin of their father/son relationship. He never understood why Clint fought for the workers’ right. Clint never understood how his father could be such a cold-hearted asshole.
“It’s when you call the boss and declare you’re too sick to work.” He poured them both coffee and offered a steaming cup.
“I am the boss.”
He held up Clint’s phone. “Do you need his number?”
“Evan, I can’t call in sick.”
“Why?”
“Well, because… It’s just… I’m the…” Holy shit. He’d run out of excuses.
“Our game. Our rules.” He lifted his brow when Clint took a breath to protest. He then let it die on his lips and instead grinned, earning the same gesture from Evan. “What should we do first?”
“We? Are you calling in sick, too?” Clint was flattered. Evan loved his job, so for him to play hooky said something. No one had ever put Clint first, especially over something they loved. “For me?”
“For us,” he replied with a wink and a grin. “I already talked to Patsy. It’ll take a night of club-hopping and liver-pickling to make it up to her, but she’s onboard.”
Patsy Cline. The best friend. Evan might trust her, but Clint didn’t know her. If she knew the truth about him, about them, would she sell the story to the highest bidder? She’d already accused him of registering on her gaydar. “Did you tell her why? I mean, does she know the truth?”
As soon as he asked, he knew he shouldn’t have. Evan hesitated as he seemed to lose himself in the question. No words were said. No words were needed. Clint’s question hung between them, distancing them. It was the reality of their relationship, and it sucked.
“If you’re asking does she know about us, the answer is no. She still believes I’m only your personal assistant. Your secret is safe with me.”
Ah, shit. “Evan—”
“Hurry up and eat. You’re burning daylight.” He sprang into action and threw open the drapes, filling the room with sunlight so bright Clint had to squint. Since when was the man such a morning person? “I was thinking a stroll around Green Lake. Then maybe a trip to Woodland Zoo. Is that allowed?” He winced, clearly recalling Clint’s reaction to that question.
“Evan.” Something was wrong. He never babbled like this without something being wrong. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure everything is strictly platonic while we’re in public. I’ll even call an escort so you can keep up appearances. You gonna eat that?” He shoved something from the breakfast tray into his mouth and smiled, his cheeks full.
“Why are you acting like this?” It was the same way he acted after their first time together in the playroom.
“Thith ith weally dwy. I need water.” He rushed out of the bedroom.
Clint pushed the tray off his lap, sending the food flying, and jumped up after him. He caught Evan as they reached the top of the stairs and blocked him from descending. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing,” he declared an octave above his normal voice.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
He didn’t want to do it, but if Evan was going to behave like this, disobey like this, Clint had no choice but to deliver a punishment neither of them would like. It disappointed him they might not be spending the day together, but Evan needed to learn this type of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. Lying to him. Pouting. Refusing to answer a direction question. None of that would be tolerated. If they couldn’t get past this, if he continued to act out after every session, there’d be no more playroom.
“Kneel.”
Evan stiffened, blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“R-Right here?” He glanced around like they were on display, not thirty-seven stories above the city in his private penthouse.
Clint used his hand signal as the answer. Evan obeyed and knelt, his attention down. His ears grew red, as did the back of his neck. He was either pissed. Or embarrassed. Or both. “Remove your shirt, fold it nicely, and leave it to your left.”
He did as told, his labored breathing forcing his shoulders to rise and fall. Definitely pissed. Clint picked up on muttering, but let it go. This was Evan’s first punishment. He didn’t want it too severe. The punishment should always fit the misbehavior. Evan had lied, not flat out
denied his Dom. One tested boundaries. The other blew them away.
“Stay.” He returned to his bedroom and grabbed two of the long scarfs from the walk-in. As he approached Evan, he said, “Place your hands behind you.”
As soon as he had his fingers interlaced, Clint tied Evan’s wrists. He then wrapped the scarf around his eyes so he’d see shadows and nothing else. Once Clint had Evan adequately bound, he stepped back and studied his sub. Evan’s cheeks were flush, his lips turned down, his breathing labored. He didn’t like being punished any more than Clint liked punishing him. When his chin quivered, Clint had to look away before he broke and released him.
“Do you know what you did wrong?”
Evan’s breathing grew shakier. He shook his head.
“You lied to me. You’re still lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Stop.” Goddamn it. He didn’t want to add more to the punishment, but if Evan continued to lie, he left Clint no choice. “Stand.” Once he did, Clint removed the rest of Evan’s clothes, leaving him naked and exposed. “Kneel.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees.
Clint closed his eyes, turning away once again. If he couldn’t punish his sub, he was no Dom. Giving Evan one last chance before the punishment grew severe, he repeated the question, “Do you know what you did wrong?”
“I lied.”
“Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
He shook his head, which disappointed Clint, but wasn’t cause for punishment. He hadn’t ordered Evan to tell him and wouldn’t. Outside of their Dom/sub relationship, he could demand anything, and Evan had every right to tell him to go to hell. Right here, right now, they both had hard limits. Demanding him to confess something under duress was one of those limits they’d agreed never to push.
“Are you ready to tell me why you lied?”
He shook his head again, this time slower. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered softly.
Jesus, he broke Clint’s heart. “I disagree. I think it matters a great deal or we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be disappointed and delivering a punishment I don’t want to deliver. When it does matter, you may call for me. Until then, you will stay in position.”
Clint stormed down the stairs, annoyed and concerned Evan wouldn’t talk to him. They had nothing if they didn’t have trust. He paced in the kitchen, every few minutes glancing above him to check if he’d moved. Shifted. Anything to call him back upstairs.
But, no. He simply rested on his knees, his butt on his heels, blindfolded, bound, head down. It was a battle of will at this point. And, goddamn it, Evan had all the power.
The first hour came and went, and still the stubborn bastard remained silent, driving Clint insane with irritation and worry. He continued to check on him every few minutes. Evan remained in position.
Shit. He refused to waste the first day off in his adult life pacing the length of his kitchen and stomped up the stairs, slowing when he approached the object of his frustration. “Why doesn’t it matter?”
“You apologized for being who you are.” His voice shook with thick emotion.
“When did I do that?”
“Last night.”
“I did not.” That didn’t sound anything like him.
“You did.” He kicked out his chin for a moment, before once again seemingly collapsing in on himself. “You did,” he repeated in a whimper, destroying Clint. He had no reason to doubt the man. So, it didn’t sound like him. It also wasn’t like him to have his sub sleep in his bed.
“Stand.” He helped Evan to his feet and removed the scarfs before handing him his clothes. Evan dressed quietly, keep his gaze down. “Your punishment has ended.”
Without a word, he disappeared into his room and returned with what had to be all his belongings he kept at the penthouse. He didn’t even look up as he passed Clint and hurried down the stairs.
“Where are you going?” By the time he’d caught up to him, they were in front of the elevator. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
He waited until the doors opened and he’d stepped inside before addressing Clint with a glare. “My punishment isn’t to sit on my knees for an hour. My punishment is being in love with a man too afraid to be himself. My punishment is having to go back into the closet if I want to be with you.” His eyes swelled as he inhaled sharply. “I won’t be in a secret relationship.”
“I won’t come out.”
Evan’s shoulders dropped as the two declarations put them in opposite corners.
“Where does that leave us?” Clint asked, hating that he already knew the answer. He refused to believe it until Evan actually said it.
“Nowhere. Good-bye, Clint.”
The doors started to close, but Clint slammed his hand against them, keeping them open. “It does not end like this. You will not storm off like one of the characters in those books you read.”
Evan gasped, clearly offended.
“We are adults. We should act like it.”
“Then stop treating me like a child.”
“Stop acting like one!” Clint roared and smacked the door again. It sounded an alarm, screeching into the air and drowning out anything else they could have possibly said. Evan jumped out, eyes wide. Clint pushed him behind his back and led them away, just in case he’d somehow triggered something disastrous.
The doors closed, and the alarm silenced.
They stared at the doors for several seconds before Clint said, “Even the elevator is on my side on this one.” Evan didn’t seem to find any humor in Clint’s muse.
The intercom buzzed, and Clint moved to the wall. “Yes?”
“The elevator to your suite seems to have malfunctioned and returned to the lobby. We have maintenance on the way. Looks like a quick reset. Will you be all right staying in until then?”
So much for their day out. He sighed in defeat. “Let me know when it’s functioning again.”
“Yes, Mr. Duke.”
Clint faced him and forced a smile. “Looks like we’re spending the day together after all.”
Evan nailed him with a glare before slowly turning and walking back into the penthouse and over to the stairs, taking them slowly. “I’ll be in my room.”
This was going to be a long day.
22
Evan hated Clint. He loved him, but he hated him.
Why would the man hide his true sexuality? It was what made him Clint freaking Duke. Apologizing for that, for who he was, only made this—whatever this was—that much harder. Evan didn’t want to be in a relationship where one of them was afraid to be out and proud. There was nothing wrong with being gay. He was sick and tired of having to justify his life. To friends. To family. And, most of all, to the man supposedly his partner.
He should be sharing pictures of them together to all his friends on social media. Changing his status from single to in a relationship. Hell, even to it’s complicated. But, so long as he remained with a man too afraid to be true to himself—a man who apologized for being who he was—he’d never have anything he fought so hard to achieve.
Evan had just finished reorganizing the clothes in his bag for the hundredth time when his phone rang. He checked the number and drew in a breath. He had enough on his mind without having to deal with TREX on top of everything else. Still, if he ignored the call, he’d risk the agency tracing it to the penthouse and discover the real reason Evan spent so much time here. “This is Evan.”
“It’s Meg.”
Of course his sister would call him right now. “Why do you always call at the worst possible time?”
“Turn off your bitch switch, Evan. This is official business. I’ve got something.”
He didn’t care. “Why are you telling me and not Walsh?”
“He may be running this find, but I’m your contact.”
“That would have been nice to know when I talked to him for so long I was late to my next appointment.”
“Oh boo hoo. H
e chewed my ear for over an hour after you talked to him.”
“About?” He stiffened. He didn’t know if he liked his RD and sister bonding that much.
“About you. About this op. About TREX in general. He doesn’t like you being in the position you’re in. Neither one of us do.”
If you only knew the position I was in last night. He kept that comment to himself. After all, this was his sister. “That we can all agree on.”
“Evan, you threw a code.”
He paused his packing as he straightened. “I did what?”
“Every agency has a code when one of their own is run through any of the government databases. IAFIS. CODIS. TALON. When you coded, Walsh lost his shit. I had to scramble to cover you. You were asked to spy on Duke, not get caught with your pants down.”
He’d failed on both counts. “Guess I’m no good at this spy stuff.”
“Why is Duke Enterprises running a background check on you?”
“I have no idea,” he lied. He had an idea. A pretty good idea. No way would Clint enter into a contract without knowing as much as he could about a person. “It must be because I’m his personal assistant. I have a key to his place. He probably doesn’t want me sneaking in and stealing the art off his walls or something.”
“Or something. Now, we need to talk. Are you alone?”
Evan glanced at the door and would have laughed had he not grown numb being in this room for several hours. After everything they’d been through together, all the promises made, he still ended up locked in a tower. “I’m being held captive by the big, bad dragon.”
“I really don’t want the details. Can you or can you not talk freely?”
That depended on whether his Dom allowed it. Since Meg didn’t want the details, he kept the snarky comment to himself. “Go ahead.”
“We believe we found the smoking gun.” Her tone changed. She was no longer his little sister pestering the shit out of him. She was now TREX Agent Megan McKoy dropping what he feared would be yet another bomb.
He dropped the ’tude. “What’s going on?”
“Have you ever heard of Jefferson Duke?”
Evan searched his mental databank and landed on this morning’s conversation about calling in sick. “That’s Clint’s grandfather. He died before Clint was born.”
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