23. Hartley

The heat was broken in my rental and the landlord kept giving me the same line that a repairman would be here to fix it. For the past ten hours. I had space heaters running, but I worried about fires, so I only kept them on in the room I was in. At least I was over the flu. If not, I would have been in a world of trouble.

Was it wrong that I wanted to go back to Jordan's and burrow under a blanket on his couch? At least there I wasn't alone, and I was warm. I didn't even spend a lot of time with Vail and Jordan, but it was enough where I wanted more.

I thought I would have heard from either of them, but my phone had been sadly quiet. Keeping busy meant my mind stayed off them, or so I hoped. I still had two more suits to make for Jordan. The heaters were helping my fingers keep from freezing, though it wasn't easy to get this done while living like I was.

Groaning, I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling to reminisce about what it was like before my grandfather died, and I took on his debt. When I had a gorgeous studio and people who loved working for me. When I didn't have to do everything on my own. Right now, I only had Jordan's suits to make. Those would have been made by me regardless. But with a team of people, I could have had them working on the next season's fashion line. They could have been getting me ready for a show, for money coming in.

Those weren't my dreams any longer. My dreams currently consisted of a home that didn't have a constant draft, working heat, and no debt. Maybe Jordan and Vail too, if I was being greedy, which I didn't feel I had any right to be. There were many people out there much worse off than I was. At least I had a roof over my head and enough money to pay my bills.

A knock on the door had me breathing out a sigh of relief. Heat, just give me some fucking heat so I could sleep without fear of a space heater catching the house on fire or me freezing to death.

After carefully placing the slacks I was working on down, I went to the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole before opening it. "Thank god you're—" I drew up short and maybe let out a little squeak. Jordan stood on my doorstep with Reghan behind him. "What are you doing here?" What I should have said was, Please take me with you. I had some dignity left. Not much, but some.

Reghan made a move to step forward to sweep my place like he usually did, but Jordan held up his hand. "Stay here."

"But, sir…"

"Here." Jordan stepped inside and shut the door in Reghan's face.

"I don't have anything that will harm you," I told him. "I wouldn't do that. By now, Reghan should know."

"He does, but he always looks out for me. That's why I pay him." Jordan's eyebrows drew together as he watched his breath puff out of him like he was still outside. "Why is it cold in here?" He barely contained a growl. I knew it was in there. With him, those growls were always right below the surface.

"The heat's broken. Someone is supposed to be here."

"When?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Hartley…" There it was, the growl I expected.

I sighed. "What do you want me to do? I'm not in control of the HVAC guy's schedule."

"This is unacceptable. Who's your landlord?" He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"You don't have?—"

"Never mind. I don't need you to tell me." He pressed the phone to his ear. "Lawson, give me the phone number of the owner of the property located at…" He rattled off my address and kept talking. I tuned him out. I wasn't about to tell him not to call my landlord. It was far too cold in here. If this was how he treated his tenants, I shuddered to think of others who were cold in their homes.

Jordan pulled the phone away from his head and started another call. He asked the person who answered if they owned my rental. That slimy voice came over the phone. I was close enough to hear it where I stood. That voice I hated because nothing good ever came from talking to him. Case in point, my hands going numb from the cold now that I was away from the heaters.

"Do you know who I am?" Jordan asked but didn't give him time to respond. "Let me tell you. My name is Jordan Altair, and you own property in my city. No, you don't get to speak yet. A property in your name is one I'm currently standing in. There is no heat, and your tenant is freezing."

There was only a slight pause while my landlord started apologizing and Jordan silently seethed.

"That's enough," Jordan bit out. "I don't give a shit what your situation is. You have people who pay you rent. Therefore, you deliver a living condition that won't get you fined or have you wind up in a much worse situation. I don't care that you have someone coming. How many other properties don't have heat?"

Another pause for begging.

"See to it they're all taken care of today. If you have to call every repairman in the entire fucking city, you will do so. Get them fucking fixed! As for Mr. Weathers, consider his lease broken. And before you try to spout off to me some sort of bullshit lease agreement, you're in breach of it now. Shove the agreement up your ass, or if you insist on pressing the issue, I will do it myself. Do I make myself clear? I have a very powerful lawyer who would be more than happy to handle this for me."

Jordan didn't let him get the full apology out before he hung up on him.

Reality slammed into me fast. "Did you just… But I live here." What the hell did he do?

"Not anymore. Grab what you need. I'll have someone come back within the hour to pack the rest and take it to my home."

"But… I didn't… What about… I live here!"

Jordan turned and marched into the room I was just in, where one of his suits was. "Space heaters," he ground out. I was surprised he didn't kick them in anger.

"Jordan, stop. You can't just come in here and tell me I'm moving. That's not what sane people do."

He spun on his heel to face me. "When did I ever give you the impression I was sane? A sane man wouldn't have just poisoned someone and had their suicide staged. A sane man wouldn't have thought of you immediately after said poisoning and had the overwhelming desire to get to you so I could claim you like I have Vail. A sane man would know when to leave well enough alone because his track record with partners was absolute shit. Yet here I stand in front of you, ready to drag you from this shithole so you can be somewhere more fitting of a man of your talent." Okay, so he had me there. Still though…

"But I fucking live here!" I hated eating here, sleeping here, doing everything here with the heat of a thousand suns, but I stayed because it was what I could afford.

"Tell me you would rather live here and wait until who the fuck knows when for your heat to be fixed. Convince me this is where you want to be instead of in my warm, safe home, where you won't ever have to worry about this shit again. Where I can provide you with the space you need and all the materials you could ever want. Hell, I have a building two blocks away from my home I just had to evict a tenant from. You can have your studio there. So would you rather stay here, or come home with me where I'll drop to my knees and fucking worship you like you deserve?"

"When you say it like that…" He pleaded a good case.

He walked to where I was, in the freezing entryway of my home. "Hartley." He lifted his hand so he could cup the side of my neck. This man who just confessed to poisoning someone touched me like I was the most precious person out there. "I know I'm bossy."

I snorted. "You can say that again."

His teeth clenched, but he said, "And I only want what's best for you."

"You've proven that while giving in to what you want."

"I never claimed to be self-sacrificing unless it comes to laying my life on the line for the people I care about." His thumb stroked over my skin, eliciting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. "Tell me you don't want to move in with me. I'll find you somewhere else to rent that isn't in my home."

The thing was, I couldn't. Before Jordan got here, I wished I was back in his place. Moving in with him was a huge step though. "We haven't even slept together and you're asking me to move in. Well, telling me, but whatever."

"Is that the prerequisite for you saying yes? Me getting you off?"

"It wouldn't hurt." What the hell was I saying? Never mind, I was talking with my dick. How was I even hard right now? Jordan just pushed his way into my home, told me I was moving in with him, and now I was coaxing him to fuck me? Damn, I was desperate. And horny.

Jordan's fingers went to my waist, but I gripped his wrist to stop him.

"While I really would love to have you buried inside me, now isn't the time. If I'm telling the truth, I don't like it here. In fact, I fucking hate it, but I have some pride, Jordan. I can't just take every handout you give me."

"I don't consider them handouts. I think of them as ways to show you I care."

"For now." No one stayed around me long enough for me to prove I was long-term relationship material. There was always something they didn't like about me.

"Who broke your heart?"

I scoffed. "No one. They never gave me the chance to get attached. Except Vail, but he didn't know I had a crush on him back then."

"Vail and I slept together." Well, that was abrupt.

"You alluded to it." Instead of being jealous, I got a glorious picture in my mind of what it would be like to watch Jordan fuck Vail. Maybe if I hadn't been there that day when Jordan tried to hump me through the mattress, I would have been jealous. Whatever this dynamic was the three of us had, it included all of us, or so I hoped.

"What do you think about me being with him?"

"Do you still want me?"

"More than you know. I did just say you're moving in with me and offer you a studio."

"There are other ways to show you care." There was seriously something wrong with me. Did I expect Jordan to confess his feelings?

"I don't say what I should. Instead, I show it. Living with me won't be easy. I'm a difficult man. I won't be able to tell you everything I do. It's more for your safety than my lack of trust. But I wouldn't ever put you in jeopardy."

"Tell me something. Not about your business but how you feel. I don't just want to be shown." I desired the action to go along with the words.

His hand, still on my neck, squeezed gently. "I want you, Hartley. You and Vail. Live with me. Work down the street from me. Whatever you want, it's yours. Just stay close. I can't handle you being far away any longer."

"In your bed?"

He growled. "Beneath me."

"What about Vail?"

"He doesn't live with me… yet… but I'm working on it."

"We're going about this all wrong."

"I make the rules, not follow the ones others put in place."