By CLARE LONDON (20 page)

“Max.”

From behind me—Seve’s voice. It was just a word, but in the low, sexy timbre that reverberated through my nerve endings, it was a statement in itself. What did he want? To ask where I’d been, why I hadn’t been to the club for a week? Why I hadn’t been to his flat? Though he must know I wouldn’t venture there without invitation. I wouldn’t want that dark look of his turned on me except in play, would I? I wondered if he knew I’d been looking into news stories about the Medina family’s business, that Jack had been asking his friends in the police about the London club.

I didn’t know whether to be welcoming, wary, or just turn tail and run for the door. I felt I’d been in that position for months, and not just with Seve. It was like being haunted. With a sick tug in my gut, I realized I’d never be free of my previous mistakes. All I’d done by running away was to bring the memories and the stigma back with me to Brighton. They seeped through my mind like rich red wine staining a white cloth. I was damaged goods, a mess. Meeting Seve had just been an additional—and cruel—coincidence.

The dancer was still looking at me, but my expression must have changed, because he frowned, then shrugged and turned away to rejoin his group of friends. I turned too, but in the other direction, pretty sure I was prepared for the physical impact of seeing Seve again.

More fool me.

I gazed into his face and my heartbeat hit the roof almost instantly. His eyes were wide and bright and he looked delighted to see me. His teeth gleamed white from the lights in the bar area, and he wore the same gold shirt that I’d first seen him in, with the silver chain around his neck. His skin looked flushed and healthy, and everything about him exuded confidence, control, and sexual charisma. He shone out from everyone else—there was no other way to describe it.

“Hi, Seve.”

It sounded totally inadequate, but he gave the usual nod of his head in reply. His smile was tight, as if pleasure was trying to bubble out of him and he was reining it back in. I felt an answering excitement. Things changed every time I saw him: my feelings deepened in an alarming way. I didn’t dare examine whether it was for good or bad, and perhaps it was the same for him.

“It’s Louis’s birthday,” I said. There I was, stating the obvious, my tongue temporarily disconnected from wit. “We’re celebrating.”

“I can see.” Seve moved along the bar toward me, revelers scattering around him like the parting of a human sea. I braced a hand on the counter, not sure what I was trying to steel myself against. He didn’t touch me, but his smile grew as he reached my side. “The duty manager has already arranged things with your friend Mr. Wallis. We’ll make it a night to remember for his dancer.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s part of my job,” he said dismissively. He didn’t seem to have any other questions, like I’d expected. He stared at my lips as I spoke. I fought an irresistible desire to moisten them with a lick or two.

“I’ll get you a drink,” he said and raised a hand to call for one of the bar staff.

“Not for me,” I said quickly. “I’m not drinking at the moment.” I didn’t add, since this morning, actually. I’d toasted Louis’s birthday at home last night with a beer—Bryan’s cocktail recipes inevitably led to both headache and indigestion—but after that, I’d called a halt. Things had to change, I reminded myself. Considering all the habits I might slip back into, drink was the first and easiest to address.

Seve raised an eyebrow. “Water, then?”

“Sure.”

A passing female bartender reached for my glass, then caught sight of Seve beside me. She fumbled the glass and nearly dropped it. He snapped his fingers sharply and she grimaced at me.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Get the water,” Seve said very softly. His tone was icy, and she scurried off.

“No need for that,” I said. “Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you have to be some kind of bully.”

He blinked at me. Staff matters were obviously already far from his mind. “I missed you, Max.”

“It’s only been a few days.” Seven! Seven! my body protested.

The chilled water arrived, a bottle for each of us. I watched as Seve was more polite in his thanks to the bartender this time. He pulled over two stools so that we could sit together at the bar, and although the music was loud, we were in the farthest spot from the speakers and could more or less hear each other talk. People pushed past us now and then, but the dance set had moved into the heavy numbers and flashing lights, and most of the clubgoers were out on the floor. Human voices yelled and laughed above the techno beat, which throbbed up through our seats. Sweat made the dancers’ hair damp and their bare torsos glisten. People pressed and clung and caressed—they were all having a bloody good time. I wasn’t sure if I was included in that.

Seve nudged my knee with his, regaining my attention. A shiver ran through my body as if a thread of electricity ran between us. “Will you come back with me to the flat, Max?”

“Now?”

“Yes, of course.”

“No,” I said. Of course? “I’m here with Louis and Jack. I’m not leaving right now.”

Surprisingly, Seve nodded agreement. “You’ll sit with me for the moment?”

“I… yes. Sure.”

He cracked open the top of his bottle and took a large gulp. I watched the gentle throb of his throat and had to shift on my seat to ease my hardness.

“It’s a good night,” I said. “Plenty of business. The takings will be high.”

Seve stared at me as if I wasn’t the only one who thought I was spouting nonsense. “Yes, I think so. We’re doing well. Where do you work, Max?”

How bizarre! It was arse about face, as they say. We’d been closer than two bugs in a rug, we’d fucked and argued and fucked again. Now we were talking as if it were a first date. We stared at each other for a moment, as if it had suddenly struck both of us at the same time. Then I grinned and he smiled back. The tension eased.

“I want to know about you,” he said. “Not just what makes you moan. Not just how hard you like to be touched.”

How could a room get so much hotter so quickly? “I work on the construction site around the back of Preston Park. They’re building new homes and business premises. I’m not trained as a builder, but I’m a fast learner, and I do as many shifts as they offer. I’m hoping they’ll take me on permanently at the end of this project.” Seve was still looking expectantly at me. “Okay, other stuff. I was born here in Brighton and have been in the care system since I was orphaned at age seven. I don’t talk much about it, but it was by no means the horror that some kids suffer. Nowadays I’m staying at Jack and Louis’s flat in Kemptown, in their attic room.” I glanced at Seve: he was concentrating on me very carefully. “I can drive but I’ve never been able to afford a car. I take size eleven shoes and have an awkwardly high instep. I like old black-and-white movies, both comedy and drama. I listen to rock music but I’m not a great fan of live gigs. I’m a crap cook, I can play very basic guitar, and I can assemble flatpack furniture like a professional. I hate mayonnaise and pineapple juice, and my favorite pizza topping is pepperoni. When I was very young, I fell out of a tree at the children’s home and scarred the back of my thigh—”

“I’ve seen it,” Seve interrupted. His eyes were even brighter.

I laughed. Despite the noise and the weird situation, I felt more relaxed with him than ever before. “Your turn.”

“Me?” He looked startled. “You know about me.”

“No, I don’t.”

He looked genuinely disturbed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Pretend I’m a journalist,” I said, not without some bitterness. “Pretend it’s for a gossip mag.”

He frowned. “I do not tell them everything, Max. Only what they want to hear. Only about the club.” When I didn’t reply, he shrugged. For a brief moment, the music’s volume dipped and the beat shifted to something slower. His voice was perfectly clear. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

I decided to go easy on him. “Tell me some fun things, like I did. I know where you live, I know what you do. What films do you watch, what music do you like? You know the kind of stuff I mean. Best sport, dream car, fantasy holiday, favorite T-shirt.”

This time he laughed. “I don’t think I’ve had the same kind of fun as you have, Max.”

“You’ve traveled, though? Seems to me your accent isn’t just London or Spain.”

He nodded. “I was born in Madrid, where my father worked as an engineer. But he was American, so we traveled between the USA and Europe for most of my life. He was in much demand for international projects. I expect I have picked up many speech patterns over the years.”

“Must have been exciting.”

He made a strange grimace. “Not as much as you think. I have been to many schools, transferred to and from several colleges. Friends aren’t….” He cleared his throat, and perhaps not just because the music was throbbing in our eardrums again. “It’s difficult to maintain friendships when there’s so little continuity. I learned to adapt to wherever I was. When Papa died, we returned permanently to Europe and Mama introduced me to the family business.”

I found myself gripping my bottle of water more tightly. “And you’ve been there ever since.”

He didn’t answer directly, but he seemed to be entering into the spirit of the conversation. “It has shaped the whole of my adult life, I suppose you’d say. I have little leisure time outside the club. I buy my clothes from designer catalogues and my daily living needs are provided for me, including my car and my flat.” Suddenly, the reflection in his eyes sparked with something like resentment. “I used to swim a great deal, I was in the top team at one college. I used to read a lot of science fiction. I enjoyed making my own tapas dishes.” It was all in the past tense. “And amazing though it may seem, I also like pepperoni best.”

A laugh burst out of me. When he snaked a hand behind my neck, I leaned forward into the kiss. His skin felt warm and his cheeks were very flushed. We didn’t speak at all for a few long, languid moments. Goose pimples ran up my spine and my jeans got tighter around my crotch, but there was also something else at play—something more relaxed, more sensual. It felt like we were taking our time for a change. When we finally broke apart, it wasn’t because of the bartender’s raised eyebrows or the wolf whistle in my ear from further along the bar. It was because we chose to.

“I’ve been to see Mama,” Seve said slowly. His head was still forward, his breath against my ear. “I have told her of the concerns about my uncle and our clubs. She assured me he has nothing to do with gangs and the drug trade.” He made the idea sound as unlikely as interplanetary travel. “He’s just a businessman. You must take my word for that.”

I must, must I? It was a cruel and unpleasant reminder that Seve and I had far more between us than a foot of bar counter. I wanted to believe him, I really did. Was it possible that I was wrong? That he wasn’t that naïve? That he wasn’t blinded—or not so blinded—by family loyalty?

I wanted to believe—didn’t I say that? But it was a world I’d been burrowed into for a long time, and I knew who and what had been involved. There was nothing I could see that would stop it happening here. I stared back at Seve. I thought I was so sharp, but now I’d never felt duller. I didn’t know where the hell I was going with this. With us.

Seve’s tone was firm. “Step away from it, Max. You came to see me like I came to see you. That’s what matters. But we can’t talk properly here. Let’s leave.” He slid a hand up my thigh and squeezed none too gently.

Yes, of course I wanted to leave with him, go somewhere with him. I had eyes only for him. My mouth opened in reply. “No,” I said. “It’s Louis’s night and I’m here as his friend and guest. Maybe we can get together later.” Oh, how cool I thought I sounded. So bloody laid-back. Seve smiled like he was imagining me laid back, and his hand tightened on my leg. My dick strained inside my jeans. I had to find a looser, more comfortable pair.

Then his mobile rang in his pocket. He let go of me and slipped off his stool, turning his back to me as he answered the call. I took a long, almost sly look at those shoulders I now knew had been broadened by swimming, the tight arse that had been muscled by strong legs kicking through the water.

“I have to take a business call,” he said, turning back to face me. “For… it’s confidential.”

I wrenched my gaze back up to his face. “Sure.”

He didn’t move away, though, and I couldn’t identify his expression. “I meant what I said about us, Max. We cannot talk here. Will you meet me later? I will be free from here in an hour or so.”

“Sure,” I repeated. “If I’m still here.” I didn’t mean it to sound snappy, but Seve’s eyes narrowed.

“Be here,” he said. “Please.” Our eyes met. Then he turned and strode through the bar area and back out toward the exit.

WHEN I got back to our table, Jack was with Bryan, who was chomping through a pile of nachos in a plastic bowl. I assumed the others were all dancing or with friends elsewhere. I noticed several bottles of champagne on the table, already opened. “From the management,” Jack said with a wry grin. “Severino Nuñez stopped by. He says all Louis’s drinks are free for the night.”

I nodded. Reached for a glass, then remembered I wasn’t drinking.

“Want some?” Bryan thrust his bowl under my nose, but bar snacks were the farthest thing from my mind.

Jack passed me a sealed bottle of water, reading my expression more accurately. “You okay?” he asked. Or rather, he mouthed it, because Louis had somehow wrangled his way into the DJ box and was choosing all his best—and loudest—favorites. “Did Seve find you? He looked disappointed you weren’t here when he came over. Wanted to know where you were.”

I took a long swig of the fresh water. “Yeah. He found me.”

Jack looked at me more carefully. “You talked to him?”

I didn’t want to get into this, not now, not here. I smiled back at Jack and pretended I was having more trouble hearing than I actually was. “Might go and get some air,” I mouthed. I needed to find somewhere I could think more clearly, without the beat of the music vibrating through the soles of my feet, without the tang of alcohol in the air making my mouth salivate, without Jack’s well-meaning questions, without… the imprint of Seve’s hand on my thigh and his breath in my ear. I turned to make my way out of the bar, but Jack caught my arm.