9. Kale

The next morning,Christian snuck out of the room while I was still half-unconscious. Calling it sleep would have been a disservice to the absolute lack of coherence I'd fucked us both into before the sun came up, and the fact he was able to draw himself out of it without waking me was just a testament to how good he was at sneaking out and around.

My phone vibrating against the white marble-topped nightstand was what finally woke me up, and when I opened my eyes to get my phone, I knew Christian had already left. The air felt quiet and settled, which wasn't possible if he were still in bed beside me. Christian was chaos personified, a mouthy brat who'd never been told no, even though he was in desperate need of the denial.

I snatched my phone and dropped it onto his cold and empty pillow to dull the noise, sucking in a deep breath that didn't make me feel nearly as whole and alive as a single thing I'd done the night before had. But among the things we'd done together after he'd bought us a longer interlude, discussing the future state of our encounters hadn't been one of them. It wasn't something he brought up, and I was never the type, but I made sure he was bruised and sore enough to remember me even after time had stretched between us.

I'd met more men than I could count in my life, and I'd fucked just as many of them, but there was something so special about Christian. I couldn't think about it, though, because then I would start to lament his departure and there was nothing good to come from that. It didn't matter that I'd never had a man more beautiful than him spread across my lap. With all his abstinence and his need tangled up like a yarn ball that only grew bigger and messier with every day that went on. There wasn't a future in that kind of living, but I also knew not many people were patient enough to untangle and rewind it back together. I wasn't even sure if I was a patient enough man for that task, but as my sleepy eyes landed on the hotel notepad arranged neatly between the discarded and torn condom wrappers, I wondered if I could be.

My phone vibrated another message and I ignored it in favor of the notepad and what turned out to be Christian's sharp lined handwriting scrawled across the page. He'd pressed so hard with the pen that his words transferred at least three sheets down, and I tore all four pages off the pad, raising them far enough above my face that I could read the note he'd left before sneaking off with the sunrise.

Mr. Sheffield,

Thank you for showing me the best things this city had to offer. I wish we had more time, but I don't think they'll ever let me back across the border after the obscenities we committed together.

Yours, Princess Christian

I read the note at least ten times before cursing myself and kicking the blankets down to the foot of the bed. There was a hickey on the inside of my thigh as dark purple as the night sky, and when I pressed my finger against it I could recall the sharp pinch of Christian's teeth against my skin when he'd turned from sucking to biting.

"Idiot," I told myself, trading the note for my cell phone, which had an unnecessary number of messages from Ford and Brooks in what was apparently a new group chat they'd started so they could harass me more easily than one on one.

Ford added you to the group.

Ford added Brooks to the group.

Ford added Alex to the group.

Ford: Who was the stranger?

Brooks: He was way too attractive for you.

Alex: Who are you two talking to?

Brooks: Kale.

Ford: Who showed up late to the club last night WITH A MAN and they left before we even had a chance to meet him.

Ford: A half-dressed man.

Brooks: He was dressed, to be fair.

Ford: Looking like Kale had already stripped him half-naked before coming inside.

Alex: I still don't understand what's happening.

Ford: He's not answering my messages.

Alex: He's probably muted you. I'm about to.

Brooks: You're no fun now that Beamer is gone.

Alex: I fucked men before him and I'll fuck men after him. Don't you worry about that.

Ford: We aren't here to talk about the past. We're here because Kale has gone missing with a stranger.

Brooks: Wouldn't be the first time.

Alex: It's kind of what he does.

Ford: This felt different.

Ford: Sheffield, you have until 8am to reply or I'm putting out an APB.

It was 7:45.

Me: I'm alive and in one piece. Yet to be taken for a ransom or whatever else you're concerned about.

Ford: I was obviously worried for your virtue.

Me: And yet I was the one fully dressed last night.

Ford: Meet me for breakfast.

Alex: Not me. I'm going back to bed. You're ridiculous.

Brooks: I'll take the cliffs notes too.

Me: Where?

Ford: Palm's Supper Club

Me: Fine. Half an hour.

Ford: It'll take me longer than that.

Me: Half an hour or you can get the Cliffs Notes too.

I dropped my phone on top of the note from Christian, throwing my legs out of bed with as much energy as I could muster. Shaking off the aches from the gymnastics of the night before, I showered, pressing again at the bruise in the fold of my thigh. If I closed my eyes, I could still see the wicked gleam in Christian's as he'd sank his teeth into me, and I could even hear the pleased noises he made when I flung him onto his back to spank him in punishment for it.

He'd needed the things we did the night before as much as I ever needed it myself, but in a very different and somehow far more visceral way. I was sure Christian was new enough to kink that some of the things I wanted to do to him would have been daunting, but the zeal with which he approached what he did have an awareness of was a sight in and of itself. His body knew what he needed, even if his brain didn't possess the words or the names for it. Christian was eager to be himself, blustering and bold, but against someone who wasn't intimidated by his demeanor. He needed someone who wouldn't back down, but who would see the facade for what it was—a mask. Not to say he wasn't blustering and bold. He was all of those things and more. He was also arrogant and sarcastic, intelligent, and so desperate to be handled properly. I imagined it was because of his rank and status that no one ever dared.

I could have spent the entire rest of my day in the shower overthinking about Christian and what he needed and what I wanted to give him, but I was the one who'd given Ford the timeline and the last thing I planned to do was give him more ammunition to poke and prod at me. Of our small friend group, he was the one most likely to come up behind me with some snappy commentary, but I was far more aggressive with the verbal barbs than he ever had been. Alex was far softer in his approach, and Brooks was another story entirely.

After carefully folding the note and the extra pages from Christian, I tucked them into the inside pocket of my pea coat. I didn't need to look out the window to guess the weather. New York in the fall was predictable, and I wound my scarf around my neck as I checked the room to make sure I hadn't left anything behind. My roaming gaze landed on a bright shock of blue on the floor near the couch, the bundle of ribbon which turned out to be Christian's royal order. The bulk of the material was hidden, only the edge in view, and even then only because I'd done a full sweep with the intent to find anything I might have lost.

I imagined his parents would be none too happy about the loss, but it was very much my gain. The ribbon was cool and damp, undoubtedly from the fact I'd had it shoved into Christian's mouth to serve as a makeshift gag the night before. Unbelievable that I hadn't realized what it was, and even more so that he'd let me get away with the act. But, then again, I supposed he didn't care much for his position in life or else he wouldn't be so anxious to always get away from it.

Carefully, I folded the ribbon and slipped it into my pocket, alongside Christian's goodbye note. He'd signed it Princess, which stirred up no less than five very unexpected and unwelcome feelings spread between the center of my chest and the pit of my stomach. I knew I'd never meet another man like him ever again, and I couldn't quite decide if that was a good thing or a bad one.

After checking out of the hotel, the clock on my phone confirmed if I wanted to beat Ford to breakfast, I would have to take a cab. The drive was fast and the car was far too hot, but I managed to get to the door of the restaurant just as Ford strode around the corner, hands tucked into the pockets of a camel-colored coat. He also had a scarf around his neck, and I recognized the cashmere pattern was the one my parents had sent for him the Christmas before. When he saw me, he rolled his eyes, then brushed past me inside the welcome warmth of the restaurant.

"I win," he said, unwinding the scarf and shrugging out of his coat.

"I'm right here," I said.

He smirked, pulling at the ends of my own scarf like I wasn't divesting myself of my outerwear fast enough for his liking.

"I got inside first."

"You're insufferable."

"Thank you." He grinned at me, then turned toward the hostess. "Table for two, please."

I trudged after the two of them, coat and scarf folded neatly over my arm. When we reached the table, Ford was leaning in a little close to the hostess and she gazed up at him with stars in her eyes.

"Don't fall for it," I warned her, and my words seemed to break her out of the trance Ford had put her into.

Her face flushed and she stepped back, almost like she'd snapped out of some kind of hypnosis. Ford sighed and ordered us both drinks before taking his seat and giving me the finger.

"You take the fun out of everything," he complained.

"I rather think I put fun into it, but…"

"Is that what you're calling your dick these days?"

"I've never had to give it a nickname," I assured him, reaching behind me to adjust my coat on the back of my chair. For good measure, I checked the pocket to make sure the papers and the ribbon were still safe inside.

"What do you partners call it then?" he asked.

"They're generally unable to form sentences if I'm doing it right, Ford. Did you need another how-to lesson?"

"Tell me about Christian," he said instead, ignoring the taunt.

"I didn't think he told you his name."

"He didn't, but you used it."

A waitress, who looked far more unflappable than the hostess, arrived with our drinks and a stern look for Ford, which had me laughing under my breath. Ford was one of my very best friends, but the man had never met a person he didn't want to sleep with. It was the thrill of the chase for him, though. He wasn't quite a one and done, but once the novelty wore off, he was on to the next. I didn't think he was afraid of relationships, but he was very much afraid of stagnancy and boredom.

"Tell me about your night," I said.

"Brooks and I had quite a good time at The Black Door," he answered conversationally, stirring his Bloody Mary with the celery stalk garnish. "But the pickings were slim so I rang up a man who'd tried to get me into bed a couple weeks ago."

"What's his name?" I asked, already knowing how this story was going to go.

"Stefan," he answered, jaw tight, even as his mouth twitched at the corner. He avoided my stare and I exhaled loudly, shoulders sagging.

"Stefan?" I repeated. "My assistant?"

"He's quite good with his hands, Kale. I see why you hired him."

"Can you please stop sleeping with my assistants?" I scrubbed a hand down my face with a tired groan. "You make it impossible to keep people on staff and I do need someone to stay on board for more than three months."

"We were hardly sleeping." He grinned. "Tell me about Christian."

"He was just in town for a stint," I mumbled, realizing I didn't know how long he was in the city for or when he'd be leaving, but judging from the stern look on Niko's face the night before, I'd wager Christian was already on a plane back to wherever he came from… and I realized I didn't know where that was either. "It was a one-time thing."

"He's from out of town?"

"Out of the country."

"I couldn't place his accent," Ford said, clearly fishing.

"Neither could I."

"Didn't you ask?" Ford arched a brow at me.

"His country of origin didn't seem relevant to our itinerary."

I swallowed down bile, something about the words and the lie diminishing the weight of what Christian and I had done the night before. We both knew it was only what it was, what it could be. There hadn't been phone numbers exchanged or any kind of promises, but to say that anything about him didn't matter to me felt like a gross misstatement.

"And now?" Ford asked.

"Now he's gone back to wherever he was from and I'm here having breakfast with you." I reached for my drink, hoping the spicy tomato and vodka would wash down the sour acidity in the back of my throat. "Just like everyone else before him, Ford. He wasn't any different, so I don't know what you expect me to say."

Ford cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, the guarded look on his face making it clear he didn't believe a word that came out of my mouth.

I reached down and checked the inside pocket of my coat again, not believing them either.