By CLARE LONDON (9 page)

This question was aimed at Louis, who nodded in mute agreement. He glanced at me, obviously not sure whether to be worried or puzzled. I hadn’t given my flatmates much to go on, but I imagined they could see how tightly coiled I was.

“Not my scene. Too hot, too loud,” Bryan said, wrinkling his nose. Bob grinned, leaned forward, and smacked a kiss on Bryan’s creased brow. Bryan pushed him off but with a grudging smile. “And the duty manager turned us out last time because we didn’t have our ID on us.”

Bob grinned. “Our fault we look like twinks, eh?”

“Speak for yourself,” Bryan replied. Everyone laughed together.

Except for me.

“You can’t blame them, trying to keep the club clean,” Bob said.

“Like hell they are.” Bryan snorted.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“The Medinas are crooks,” Bob said, taking up the narrative. “It’s common knowledge. They were raided by the Drug Squad when Manchester opened, and there was some problem in London too—they had to call in extra security for a while.”

“The bloody club owners are usually the ones behind the trouble in the first place, right?” Bryan added.

“Cynic.” Bob squeezed Bryan’s arm and planted another kiss on his cheek. Bryan flushed but seemed to like it.

“How on Earth do you find all this out?” Louis asked Bob.

Bob shrugged. “I listen. I read.”

“You snoop,” Bryan grumbled.

Bob ignored the jibe. “And there’s that new man at Compulsion, the one from Medina Head Office, who’s meant to be overseeing the new look. He’s Spanish or something like that. Very sexy, from what I’ve heard.”

“What you’ve read,” Bryan grumbled. “Judging by those fucking gossip rags you wank over.”

Bob yelped in protest and they tussled together for a moment. When Louis yelled at them to stop they broke apart, flushed and half laughing, half snarling at each other.

“You’d think he’d take more care what he does in Brighton,” Bryan said. “Or who he does. What with him being part of the family.”

My gut clenched. “What?”

Bob glanced at me, alert at last to something in my tone. “He’s a cousin or nephew of the Medinas. I can’t quite remember, but I can look it up for you. Apparently he’s done the business degree and stuff, and now he’s claiming his place in the family firm. He’s only ever been some kind of playboy, or so the mags say. He’s gay but not exactly monogamous. Last seen wearing a whole bloody boy band on his arm, sort of thing.”

“What’s his name?” Jack asked.

“I’ve got to go,” I said. The chat stopped and everyone turned to look at me. “Catch you later, okay?”

“Max, I’ll come with—”

“I’ve got my key. Don’t worry about locking up the flat.” I was already backing off, shuffling farther up the street, watching their surprised faces retreating to the background. Then I turned and all but ran in the opposite direction.

SEVE stood as before, at the bar. People pushed past him, grabbed drinks, and stumbled away, laughing and shouting. He still stood there. A couple of large guys were close by, and I thought I recognized them as having been security on previous nights, but they didn’t specifically turn his way. No one else approached him, though I saw plenty looking. A better protection strategy than mine, I thought sourly. But I was equally pleased that he wasn’t being pursued tonight. I didn’t know what I’d have done if I’d seen him pick up someone else.

“Max, here you are.” Jack appeared at my shoulder, bringing us drinks. I’d forgotten how good he was at sports in school, and he’d easily caught up with me on my way here. I couldn’t, in all honesty, tell him to get lost. And I didn’t want to, of course, I just wanted—well, I wasn’t really sure what.

I hadn’t assumed that Seve would be here again. If he were really this big shot from Head Office, I supposed he had to spend time at the club, checking things were going okay. But he must have staff to do that, as well. Was he here for business or… what else? I didn’t know what free time they gave big shots. I couldn’t imagine it was much. Was he one of those career men who lived in—and above—the shop?

Essentially I didn’t know anything about him except his name, some basic info about his job, the fact he thought I talked too much—and the feel of his cock inside me. Kind of a strange reference, eh? My mouth was dry again, despite the drink Jack had just handed me and I’d taken a swig of. My legs felt weak and I felt dizzy. I was beginning to realize that being fucked by Seve was maybe more than just his hands on my skin and his dick up my arse.

He turned so his back was against the bar, and then he looked over. I was ridiculously excited when his gaze fixed on me, like he’d been waiting only for that. We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us changing position or making any other move. He was in the ubiquitous black jeans, but matched tonight by a short-sleeved T-shirt in some kind of dark-blue satin. A black leather jacket was slung over his shoulder. Had he just arrived? Or was he ready to leave already?

The evening was becoming surreal. And to be honest, it hurt to stand there, with Seve only feet away. I wanted to go to him. I wanted to touch him again. If he lifted that glass as he’d done the first time, with its subtle invitation, I’d be there in a second.

“You okay?” Jack was a blur at the periphery of my sight.

“Yeah, of course I am.”

“You’ve been distracted all night. All week, actually, like something’s nagging away at you. And the way you dashed off….”

“I’m fine. Honestly.”

“Was it Louis mentioning London? I’m really sorry about that.”

“No.” I shook my head to reassure him. “There’s no problem, Jack.”

Jack didn’t answer. He followed my line of sight to Seve at the other end of the counter, then looked back at me. “You and him?”

I knew not to insult Jack’s intelligence by denying it. “We just met. Nothing special going on.”

Jack obviously chose not to insult my intelligence in return by telling me I was talking bollocks. “Is that the Medina bloke Bob was talking about?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t had time to find out for certain.”

Jack’s voice was low. “And you’re not bothered about taking it. The time, that is.”

I bit my lip. I still didn’t turn to face him, but I could feel his gaze on me. “It’s not like that, Jack. I’m not like that, not anymore. I’m taking things a step at a time.”

Jack sounded angry but not necessarily with me. “I know I’ve been pushing you to get out more….”

“Jack? I’ve got it all under control.”

“You know we don’t judge—”

“Of course I know—”

“We just want you to be okay,” Jack finished over my protest.

“I said I’m fine.” He meant well, I knew. But he would’ve had to be blind and stupid to miss how I gazed at Seve, how my whole body leaned toward him. However, I was surprised to see that Seve seemed to be the same. He continued to gaze at me, that slow smirk teasing at the corner of his mouth. I saw his gaze flicker to Jack, then back to me. A lifting of his lids; a lazy droop back to cover the flashing eyes. It was all the encouragement I needed, and I pushed away from the bar.

“Max.” Jack sighed as if he didn’t know what else to say.

To my shame, my mind wasn’t on my friend anymore. It wasn’t really there at all. It was reaching out for Seve—reaching for his sharp, rare words, for his fingers inside me. For his goddamn arrogance. For the careless pleasure he’d given me.

“Is this really what you want?” Jack’s voice was soft, barely heard over the music ringing in our ears.

I glanced back at him. “What? It’s just a bit of fun.”

Jack shook his head. “I know you, Max. The way you act around him… it’s like you’ve dived straight in the deep end, and to hell with the lifeguards.”

“What are you talking about?” But I realized how well Jack did know me. He knew what I was thinking and where I was going. Probably what I was going to do. But I wasn’t ready to share my feelings with anyone yet, not even my closest friends. Hell, I wasn’t quite sure what highlights I could censor for him, anyway. “Get off home, Jack. Louis will be waiting for you. Thanks for following me, I appreciate it. But we both know I’m a grown-up now.”

Jack smiled, though it looked strained. “What I know is that you deserve the best, Max, whatever you think of yourself. Be careful.”

I grinned. “What are you, my mother? One more time—I’m fine.”

I watched as Seve slipped the jacket over his shoulders and also pulled away from the bar. He started to walk toward the main exit with a long, slow stride. He wasn’t deliberately trying to leave me behind, I was sure. But an irrational panic rose up in me, in case he did. I grabbed my coat off the back of the chair. My eyes followed the broad shoulders and the muscled arse.

And then so did my legs.

I MADE my way out of the club, weaving through bunches of people making their way in, ebbing around me like a human sea. The lights from the entrance desk in the lobby were too bright for me, and bursts of music followed in my wake every time the door opened to let someone in. By the time I emerged into the cool night, Seve stood at the curb, leaning back against a BMW. It looked very expensive and very smart, with midnight-blue paintwork like his shirt tonight. Seat covers as black as his hair. Woodwork on the dashboard as rich as the color of his skin. Shit. I had this thing bad.

I looked around but no one was asking him to move his vehicle on. It was nowhere near chucking-out time at the pubs and clubs yet, but I was pretty sure it was a restricted zone even for taxis. The bouncers stood at attention by the club entrance, silent and apparently unbothered, with aviator shades that hid their eyes. Bloody stupid at night, I thought. And it meant I couldn’t see if they were looking at him or not. I drew a deep breath and went to meet him at the car. “Yours, Seve?”

“Yes.”

Was he going to ask me to ride with him? Was I going to see something or somewhere that told me more about him? Or would we just drive to some lay-by along the coastal road, park beside a deserted café where the tea cakes and ice creams were locked away for the night, and then fuck away frenziedly in the backseat? Stupid teenage melodrama. But I knew the strength and irrationality of my need.

“Something more to say, Max?” He sounded sharp. “I see it in your eyes. In the way you stand there.”

I thought about what Jack had said about being careful. He’d obviously picked up on something about Seve even in that brief time. He was worried, though I didn’t know the exact reasons. Was I worried? “I need to know more.”

“What about?”

“You.” All he did was raise an eyebrow and I filled with warmth from my toes upward. “Something more than that, Seve.”

He smiled and nodded. “Will you get in the car first?” He glanced up at the indigo sky, lit in patches by the neon lights from the club and nearby marina buildings. “The forecast is for rain tonight.”

I ignored that. “Tell me. Are you the guy they sent in to oversee the refurbishment at Compulsion? One of the Medina family?”

For the first time, I saw a flicker of unease in his eyes. “Yes. But you know that already, I’m sure. Anyone here would tell you.”

“But you didn’t. You said your name was….” I struggled, briefly, to remember. “Nuñez.”

He shrugged. “My mother is a Medina. My late father was called Nuñez. I am the nephew of the owner of the group. Does it matter?”

“You didn’t say,” I persisted.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to know then. Maybe I didn’t want to waste time talking.” His voice tightened. “I applied for the job with everyone else, Max. You should know that I am qualified—that my position is earned.”

That wasn’t the point, but I wasn’t discussing that now. “You’re a company employee, though, right? You follow the company rules, agree with corporate strategy. And you’re family too, so you know what really goes on in all the clubs.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

I shook my head, impatient with the anger that washed over me and with my inability to express the pain inside.

“Get in the car, Max.”

Behind me, a group of young women on a hen night shrieked with laughter. Two guys on the other side of the road were having an argument, maybe a lovers’ tiff. “No,” I said, even as I took an instinctive step toward him. “This isn’t going to happen.”

“Why not?” He reached out his arm and brushed a finger down my arm. Even through my shirtsleeve, I felt the heat from him. “We’re free, we can do what we like. Don’t tell me you don’t want more. It’s magnificent, yes?”

Fuck, yes. “No. Leave me. I’m on my way home.”

“Is it because of him?” Seve looked back toward the door of the club. “The man you’re with?”

“Jack? We’re….”

“Just friends?”

“No!” I was angry for different reasons now. “Not just friends! He’s a bloody good one, the best. He cares about me and that’s fine by me.”

Seve stared at me as I fidgeted there on the pavement. I could feel his gaze as if it burned through my clothes. My body was shivering at the thought of his hands on me, and my cock was swelling at the mere smell of his cologne. He shifted a little and I wondered with a sudden glorious wildness whether he was feeling the same discomfort. But why should he? He’d called all the shots so far. I was just the easy target.

“Not always, though, is it?”

“What?”

He sighed. “The interference. It’s not always fine. People may mean well, but they can’t know what you’re really like, what you really want. It used to be like that for me too.”

“Used to?”

He shrugged. The muscles under his T-shirt flexed, promising so much that I felt the aching heat in my groin. “Now my life is my own affair. What I do, who I do it with. It’s nothing to do with anyone else.”

I looked over at his flash car, his expensive clothes. Imagined his well-paid job, the salary he commanded, the staff he’d be in charge of. A whole fucking boy band on his arm…. “I don’t think we’re remotely the same.”

He didn’t reply, just looked at me. In that moment I saw the hunger in his eyes and—yes—a brief flare of uncertainty. I took a step back, away from him. I was trying to leave. I really was.