“Clint,” he moaned as every muscle in his body wound tight like a coiling snake about to strike.
“Jesus, Evan.” He held eye contact as he pumped faster, harder. As his pace increased, so did his breathing. The water bouncing off them both only added to the erotic arousal attacking every sense.
“Clint.” Evan licked water off his lower lip before sucking it between his teeth and clamping down. He couldn’t last much longer. “Oh, Clint.”
Clint growled, the sound primal. He grabbed his hips and slammed them together over and over, driving them closer. So much closer. “Come with me.”
“I’m there, Clint. Dear God, I’m there.”
He thrust hard and howled out Evan’s name. Evan came hard, and his knees gave out. Clint caught him and held him up as they rode out their joint release. Only after they’d both slowed, the aftermath of their violent orgasms lingering, did he release Evan and grab the side of the shower before he collapsed.
Evan caught him, struggling to hold him up. He was a big guy. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute.” He rested his forehead on Evan’s shoulder as the air sawed in and out of his lungs. After several seconds, Clint stood on his own. “That was…”
“Yeah.”
“And you were…”
“So were you.”
He pulled Evan into his arms, still using the smaller man to help him remain upright. “I need a nap.”
“You need to get dressed,” he countered. He then proceeded to wash his lover, head to delicious toe. “Now go.”
Clint stepped out with a groan. “Yes, dear.”
God, how he loved that man.
And now it was up to Evan to save him.
23
No matter how many times Evan straightened Clint’s bow, the damn thing wouldn’t behave. He blamed himself for not confirming the tie before he delivered the tux.
“This is why I use clip-ons.” Clint kept his chin lifted so Evan could work.
“No self-respecting millionaire should ever wear a clip-on anything.”
“Billionaire,” he corrected and laughed when it earned him a look. “What? You’re the one who told me to put it on my business cards.”
“I was only one letter off.”
“A pretty critical one.”
“Stop talking and let me finish.” Evan tried to ignore the way Clint watched him intently, his expression intense. He finally gave up and backed out of Clint’s personal space. “What?”
“What what?”
“What what what?”
Clint cocked his head. “Huh?”
“Forget it.” Evan handed him the shoes before grabbing his own and gave him a quick assessment, nodding in approval. “You clean up nice.”
“Ditto.” He sat in the chair to tie the shoes. “By the way, Hailey will be there.”
Evan worked his feet into his shoes. “I assumed as much since it’s her event.”
“So will my mother. She never misses the chance at the spotlight.”
Good, he’d finally get to meet the people in Clint’s life instead of reading about them in the tabloids. “Does she know?”
“About you? No.”
Evan tossed him a serious sideways glance. “About you.”
Clint pulled in a breath and stood, working out the slacks and avoiding eye contact. “No.”
“How is it you’ve been able to keep something like this a secret from your own mother?”
“My father knew.”
“He did?” That surprised him. Evan’s father was the last person to find out. On purpose.
“He was the only one whose opinion mattered.” He left the bedroom.
Evan went after him, needing more. It wasn’t curiosity—okay, it wasn’t just curiosity—driving him. He had to have some background on the people he’d be meeting tonight. “Your sister caught you with Jack, right? How do you know she didn’t tell your mother?”
“Because she’d rather keep it as leverage, something to use against me. Over and over. We aren’t exactly close anymore.”
That didn’t make any sense. The tabloids showed them entertaining together and serving as each other’s dates at parties. The stories had Evan convinced Clint and Hailey Duke had the perfect brother-sister relationship. He only wished he had that with Meg. “That’s too bad. I would love to be closer to my sister.”
“That’s because you don’t have a sister like mine.” They stood at the elevator and waited for it to arrive. “Why are we leaving so early anyway? The event isn’t for another two hours.”
As casually as possible, he slipped in, “We’re stopping by your uncle’s place for a visit.”
“Why? Did he need something?”
No. TREX did. Evan smiled to cover up the truth. “Have you seen him since it happened?”
“We Dukes don’t exactly stop by for visits. I can guarantee no one else has stopped by. Hailey probably took the redeye and is just now crawling out from under the pile of men she picked up on her way to her hotel.”
“Wow. Bitchy much?”
“When it comes to her,” he answered once the elevator arrived. “Yes. She hates me for stealing her boyfriend. Remember?”
Evan nodded once and dropped the subject. Clearly talking about Hailey Duke upset him. Good to know. They rode the elevator in silence, Clint pouting at being forced to visit his uncle, like a child being forced to visit that one relative with the house that smelled like powdered cheese.
“Your car is waiting, Mr. Duke,” Tommy said as Clint and Evan walked out of the elevator.
“Very good, Tommy.”
“Will you be needing anything else this evening, sir?”
“No. Thank you. Please give Margaret my best.”
“Yes, sir. She’s getting stronger every day.”
Clint grinned. “That’s very good to hear. Tell her I expect another piece of art for my walls soon.”
The bellhop grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, sir. You know how much she loves to paint.”
“I know how much I love her paintings.”
“It’s the only thing that makes her smile since the stroke.”
“I’m sure you make her smile, my good man. Have a good night, Tommy.”
“Good night, Mr. Duke.” He then nodded at Evan. “Mr. McKoy.”
“Tommy.” Evan nodded in return, feeling like royalty having someone wait on him like this.
Once they were in the town car, Clint reluctantly gave his uncle’s address to the driver.
“No need, Mr. Duke,” the driver answered. “I’ve been there several times.”
“You have?”
“I drive for your uncle, too.”
Clint sat back, a still expression holding him hostage. The news this driver also drove for his uncle didn’t settle well with him.
“Tell me more about your uncle,” Evan said when they were on their way.
“What’s there to say? He’s a stubborn bastard who has to get in the last word. He thinks he’s always right. When he’s wrong—which is more than he’ll ever admit—he still thinks he’s right.”
“Sounds like that runs in the family.”
Clint shot him a sideways glare. Evan put his hands up to ward off the attack, giving Clint the last word and hiding his grin. He had a feeling he knew exactly how to handle Grant Duke.
“He’s the last Duke of his generation,” Clint went on. “Together, we’ve buried all three of his brothers, my father included. He may get on every last one of my nerves, but he’s the only family I have left on that side.”
Evan slipped his hand in Clint’s and gave it a squeeze. They held each other’s gazes. “Exactly why you need to see him more.”
“You’re right,” he sighed, like admitting that took a lot out of him. It probably did. “Do you have the invitation to this thing?”
Evan removed it from his inside pocket and handed it over. “What are you looking for?”
“Who else is being auctio
ned off.” He scanned the list, thinning his lips and working his jaw when he stopped on a name. In a growl, he handed the invitation back to Evan.
“Who’s going to be there that warrants that reaction?” He’d done recon on the men being auctioned off. No one seemed worthy of a growl and snarl. Well, maybe Marco Bianchi, the editor-in-chief of Seattle’s most popular tabloid and Evan’s favorite—Insider Confidential. He’d been crushed when the show was canceled.
Bianchi made millions chasing celebrities and catching them in the most unflattering positions possible, all to tarnish their names while he sat back and counted his cash. As much as Evan loved the tabloid paper, after seeing the way it affected Clint and knowing it had to affect the other celebrities as well, he’d have to stop reading it. It broke his heart to say good-bye to his guiltiest pleasure, but he refused to support a system that forced a man like Clint Duke to hide his true self, make a spectacle of himself to keep the target on his back, all to protect others from becoming a target themselves.
“No one important.” Clint fell silent, staring out the window the rest of the drive to his uncle’s place off Yesler Terrace. Evan had never been beyond the gates and took in every detail as they slowly drove through the community until the driver pulled up in front of the house.
House? Hell, this place was as big as Evan’s apartment building. “Is your uncle married? Got any kids?”
“No and no.” Clint instructed the driver to wait and stepped out before helping Evan. They held hands longer than necessary before breaking contact. As much as Evan wanted to voice his disappointment at having to hide their relationship, he did make Clint a promise.
Clint rang the bell and waited. The massive door opened and there stood a man remarkably familiar, the same brown eyes and large frame all Dukes seemed to be blessed with. He had glasses perched on the end of his nose. When he realized who’d come to pay him a visit, he placed the glasses on top of his gray hair and waved them in with the hand that held a glass of amber liquid.
“Getting an early start, I see.” Clint nodded at the drink.
Grant lifted it to his lips and took a long pull. “It’s never too early for a good scotch. What brings you by, Clinton?”
“We came to check on you. Uncle, this is Evan McKoy. My assistant. He’s accompanying me to Hailey’s event tonight.”
“Couldn’t find a real date, eh?” He closed the door and studied Evan with a guarded look full of suspicion.
He stiffened at the insult but said nothing.
“There’s scotch in the den.” Grant moved past them and rounded the corner.
Clint set his jaw. “You know I hate that shit.”
Grant poked his head back in. “Yes, I know. I’ll be in the living room. The news is on.” He disappeared again.
“Let’s just go.” Clint turned to leave, but Evan stopped him. As much as he didn’t want to be here, this man was family. If Clint didn’t get more time with him, he’d regret it when Grant passed. Judging by the six stents, the drinking, and overall stench of a man who didn’t do much else, the man wasn’t long for this earth.
“Clint, just a few minutes.”
“But, I hate him.”
“He’s family.”
“I hate that he’s family.”
Evan pushed him by the shoulders in the direction his uncle had disappeared. “Come on. The sooner you get in there, the sooner you can say your peace and we can leave.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“This is between the two of you. Besides, based on the way he looked at me when you introduced us, he’s not exactly a fan.”
Clint rolled out of his hold. “What do you mean, the way he looked at you?”
Oh shit. “Never mind.”
“No, not never mind.” He held a hard expression. “Being rude to me is one thing. I won’t tolerate him being rude to my…” He trailed off as his expression fell. “Assistant.”
Evan wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and shout and insist Clint be true to himself. He wanted to hold his boyfriend’s hand in public and reassure him he didn’t have to go through life alone. Instead, Evan gave him a nod for him to go ahead. “I’ll just be in the den with the scotch.”
Besides, dens typically had desks. Desks typically had paperwork. Paperwork Evan would use to prove Grant Duke was using his father’s name to syphon money from the company’s payroll account.
“Try not to break anything.” Clint straightened his jacket and walked out of sight.
Does your trust count?
Evan waited until he heard Clint greet his uncle before sneaking off in the opposite direction, easily finding the den behind double doors. He entered, sliding the doors closed behind him, and hurried over to the desk. He hated this, hated sifting through Grant Duke’s private papers, but if it saved Clint from a prison sentence, he’d do it a million times to prove his innocence.
He made quick work of the papers on the desk, finding nothing. He then moved to the drawers, rifling through files and folders, and still coming up empty. Every few minutes, he’d pause long enough to catch the men’s voices, before getting back to the search.
After twenty minutes of combing through everything in the desk, he switched to the two-drawer filing cabinet behind him. It was locked, of course. He remembered spotting a key in the top desk drawer and grabbed it, working it into the lock until it popped. The top drawer had two large binders, both labeled Duke Expansion, but one especially caught his eye. It had Kelley’s address.
Evan pulled it out and placed it on the desk to read through it. He glanced at the door, heard the men laughing, and went back to the binder. In the first section, he found plans for Duke to expand its headquarters to Seattle’s central business district, which made sense. It pissed him off that they’d shut down a family business simply to get their hands on the building, but it made solid business sense.
He flipped to the next section and had to read it twice. Why would it have Grant Duke as the CEO? Why couldn’t Evan find Clint’s name anywhere? He found the section marked finance and opened it.
Shock rocked him.
It wasn’t an expansion of Duke Enterprises at all. It was a takeover. Grant Duke had been slowly draining the company and planned to use Duke Enterprises’ own money to fund its takeover.
And Evan now had the paperwork to prove it.
He hastily pulled out his phone, removing the invitation along with it since they were in the same pocket. He set the invite aside and snapped several pictures, quickly turning page after page until he had enough to convince TREX they had the wrong Duke under surveillance. When he heard footsteps, he slammed the binder closed, replaced it, and quietly closed the drawer.
Jumping out from behind the desk, he lunged for the drink caddy and poured himself some scotch just in time. The doors opened and there stood Clint, his eyes shadowed by a brooding expression. He nodded. “Let’s go.”
Evan set the drink on the cart and hurried out after him. “Is everything okay?”
“He’s hiding something.”
He stumbled and caught himself. When Clint eyed him, he flashed a grin. “New shoes.” He waited until they were outside and almost to the car before asking, “Why do you think he’s hiding something?”
“The way he’s acting. He’s being far too vague. Answering my questions with more questions. Not looking me in the eye. It’s not like him to miss the opportunity to tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Evan swallowed, wanting desperately to tell him what he’d found. If he did and Clint rejected the proof, it could turn into a huge fight. Evan would have to tell him about TREX. It would pit them against each other.
He’d have to keep it to himself until he reported it. He didn’t really know the proper protocol for something like this. He stopped and thought about that. Walsh didn’t give him orders to look into Grant Duke, which meant he’d get busted for this, despite what he’d found. No, only one person knew. He had to find a way to get the p
roof to Meg and have her report it.
“You’re being quiet,” Clint mentioned when they were back in the car.
“Just processing everything.” He had to find something to talk about to fill the space before he blurted out what he’d found and took his chances. “Tell me more about your sister.”
“I don’t want to talk about my sister.”
“I need to know how to handle her. Does she go by Hailey or does she prefer Ms. Duke?”
“Just keep a glass of vodka in her hand and flatter her endlessly, and she’ll love you forever.”
Evan frowned and turned his gaze to the side window. He refused to let the bitterness in Clint’s voice get to him. They were going to enjoy themselves tonight, damn it. “So, she likes to drink?”
Clint laughed, the sound humorless and cold. “Like mother like daughter. Same vice, too.”
He obviously didn’t want to talk about the skeletons in the Duke family closet. Evan decided to change the subject yet again. “Is there anyone we need to avoid at the auction?”
“The paparazzi.”
“You do realize that’s impossible since you’re going to be front and center.”
Clint sank into the plush leather seat and leaned his chin on his hand as he rested his elbow on the door. “I know.”
“What about those you need to make sure you personally greet?”
He looked at Evan and lowered his hand. “Why are you asking so many questions?”
Evan stared back, careful to keep his expression impartial. “That’s what an assistant does, Mr. Duke.”
Leaning in, Clint flicked a glance at the driver before returning it to Evan. He kept his voice low as he whispered, “What else does an assistant do, Mr. McKoy?”
“In this case,” he whispered back. “The boss.”
They both chuckled and straightened, facing forward.
Evan kept his thoughts focused on the event and not the bomb he’d discovered in Grant Duke’s den. No one knew he knew. Grant couldn’t make a move after hours on a Friday night. One more night wouldn’t make a difference.
For years, he’d read about the annual millionaire charity auction where the city’s most eligible bachelors were auctioned off, each year wishing he had enough money to attend. Tickets were a cool thousand dollars each if the attendee bid, five thousand if the attendee didn’t. Now he was about to attend the biggest charity function of the year with none other than the star attraction.
Evan Page 22