Chapter 18

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Anthony wanted to clap like everyone else, but he had a beer in each hand, so he stood there unable to do anything but stare at his… his… Cillian. Cillian bowed and grinned at applause, which was well deserved. It was clear to those listening that he’d followed the sheet music at first before turning the music into something much more elaborate on the fly. And while Cillian said this performance hadn’t been rehearsed, it was also clear there was a code between them about how it was to be done. He’d sat in enough meetings with a client, Rafe, and Liam, that with a look or a nod they could communicate everything.

Cillian made his way over and reclaimed his beer.

“That was amazing.”

He gave a small shrug as if it were nothing. “Thank you.”

“You can accept applause, but not a compliment?”

“Correct.” Cillian took another sip and moved in closer, almost encouraging Anthony to put his arm around him. Or maybe that’s what he wanted.

Anthony hesitated, overthinking it for several heartbeats, before placing a hand on Cillian’s hip, and Cillian leaned against Anthony’s chest. He’d guessed right.

Unable to resist, he kissed Cillian’s temple.

When Anthony was with him, he didn’t want their time to end. Nothing else mattered and all their problems were somewhere else. It was an illusion, of course, because everything was just a lie waiting to pounce the moment he stepped outside their current bubble. For the rest of the performance, he chased his thoughts instead of enjoying the music, the art, and the man in his arms.

“I’m going to say goodbye. Do you want to go somewhere after? Grab dessert? There’s a great little ice creamery around the corner which should still be open.”

“Sure.” Anthony released Cillian and edged toward the door to wait for him. Although there was a crowd of people around Bevan, whatever Cillian said was quick. Then he was cutting through the crowd, grabbing Anthony’s hand, and leading him back through the bar and out onto the street, where it was busy and noisy.

Cillian smiled at him, holding his hand, unaffected by those around them. The lights and laughter of the other people making their way to or from dinner or to their next destination was almost too much for Anthony to handle. He was accustomed to evenings punctuated by low murmurs, curses, snoring and coughing, and the dull hum of prison life. He was tempted to suggest that they go back to Cillian’s place, but that might seem like he only wanted one thing. Which he did. He definitely wanted Cillian naked before the end of the night.

“Got a favorite flavor?” Cillian pulled him toward the shopfront where the display of ice cream gleamed under lights. There were a few tables inside, and more on the sidewalk. His gaze flicked to the prices on the board, and he almost died.

Had ice cream gone up that much?

“It’s my treat,” Cillian said softly. Had he seen Anthony looking?

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer or your understanding of the situation, I do, but I don’t want to be mooching off you, either.”

“One ice cream, that I suggested, is not mooching.”

The woman behind the counter stopped in front of them. “What can I get you?”

Cillian lifted his eyebrows then launched into his order of two scoops, one of chocolate that was filled with three kinds of other chocolate, and the other a white chocolate and salted caramel. “Hun?”

It took a moment for him to realize that meant him. What did he like now? The only time he’d had ice cream before was if it was served with something else or in a cone at the beach. “Cappuccino.” That seemed safe. He liked coffee.

She waited for his second flavor. His gaze skipped over the range. “Lemon meringue.” He hadn’t had one of them since before. He should do something about that.

Cillian paid, and they walked along the sidewalk as if they were heading somewhere, and he was happy to follow. He licked the ice cream before it dripped onto the paper napkin wrapped around the cone. “Do you think it’s weird to mix the flavors? Would it be better to only get one?”

“The weird creation where they mix is part of the fun.” Cillian pointed at a small park. “I thought you might prefer sitting here instead of the busy café strip.”

A pocket park in the middle of the city. They sat on the bench watching people walk past. Behind them, a small fountain gurgled and once again they were removed from the world. A couple walked along the path past them and out onto the street, a small dog trotting at their feet. Yeah, they weren’t alone, but he liked being out of the bustle.

“I do… You keep making all these adjustments…” He didn’t want to be difficult.

“I prefer sitting here than at the sidewalk tables—unless I’m with friends, and they are usually louder than everyone else. How do you think I knew this park existed?”

“You bring all your…” He’d been about to say dates.

Cillian lifted his eyebrows and took a bite of ice cream like an absolute psychopath. He smacked his lips. “Lovers? Boyfriends? Paramours?”

“I don’t know what to call us… if there is an us. I’m so out of the scene.”

“I don’t know either.” His face became solemn.

Was this ice cream and a breakup? Was this where Cillian dumped his beaus? It was nice and public. As break up locations went, the park wasn’t a bad option.

“I need to talk to you about something, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react.” Cillian glanced over and must have seen the horror on Anthony’s face because he quickly clarified. “It’s not the talk .”

“Okay, but it seems serious.”

“It is, and it’s been going on for a while, and I don’t know what to do. Can I spit it out, and if you never want to see me again, you can just walk away?”

Anthony frowned. “I can’t imagine you saying anything that would make me leave. Unless you’re married? Or lied about your status?”

Cillian shook his head. “I feel like they’d be less complicated. For the record, I’ve never been married or even engaged. And I’m more than happy to do a blood test since my last one was three months ago… though you are the only person I’ve slept with since.”

“You showed me, and I believe you.”

Cillian tilted his head, eyes on the street as he bit his ice cream. His tongue darted over his lip. “I’ve never told anyone, and I have no idea what to do. When I saw you at the party, and the animosity between you and Hayden, I saw a chance. Yes, my friends wanted to find out what you’d done, so I cleared the air after I’d played to stop Hayden from shit-stirring.”

“I was outside. I heard you play. It must have cost him to have you play. I have it on good authority you’re the greatest pianist I’ve never heard of.”

Cillian smiled, but didn’t laugh. “That’s a joke from our uni days. We were so convinced of our own magnificence and so deeply insecure.”

“Aren’t you describing all artists?”

That got a half-hearted laugh out of Cillian. “Hayden didn’t pay me. He never does.”

“What do you mean? He has plenty of money.” But it was so like Hayden, to be cheap.

“He’s blackmailing me.” Cillian closed his eyes.

Blackmail? Hayden was many things, but blackmail…? Why on earth was he blackmailing Cillian? It didn’t make sense. Margot’s warning that Cillian wanted something echoed in his ears.

“And you thought because I’m an ex?—”

“No. Because you don’t like him, I thought you might help me. That’s why I approached you at the party, but that’s not why I slept with you.” Cillian looked at Anthony with glassy eyes. “It all got muddled after the kiss, and I let my dick take the lead. I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry. And I understand if you hate me.”

Anthony wasn’t sure what he felt.

He knew there was a reason Cillian had talked to him at the party, and he’d been honest that his friends wanted to know what he’d done, so there was no reason to doubt this claim. Yet, at the same time, it made no sense. “Why would he blackmail you? No offence, but he has a fuck-ton of money.”

Chocolate ice cream dripped over Cillian’s fingers. “It’s not about money. It’s about power. He can make me jump, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

That sounded like Hayden. Hayden wouldn’t warn him away from Cillian himself. No, he’d make a few comments, and Margot would do it for him.

“It’s all such a fucking mess.” He licked his fingers and took a couple of bites. “Fuck, ice cream is supposed to make you feel better, and it’s not bloody working.”

Anthony’s thoughts churned and spun.

Cillian was upset at his ice cream, himself, and everything else.

“I need to ask, what does he have on you?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “The lynch pin of my entire career. It’s all built on a lie, and I have no idea how he found out.”

“I heard you play… That’s not a lie.”

Cillian snorted and ate his ice cream until it was level with the cone and less likely to drip over his hand.

“The ice cream might work if you licked it and took your time instead of chomping through it like you hate it.”

“That’s your concern?” He snapped. “Everything I worked for is in jeopardy?—”

“What did you do? What is so bad that Hayden could destroy you?” He couldn’t imagine Cillian doing anything worse than returning a library book late. “Have you ever had a speeding ticket?”

“Yes, driving home one time. That big empty road, and one bored cop with a speed gun.”

Anthony laughed. “Only the one?”

“Yeah.” Cillian stared at his ice cream and gave it a lick. “I was just out of uni and working with a mentor. He was so enthusiastic about my work… When he wanted to suck my dick, I didn’t say no. Things went further between us, and I met the right people.”

“You didn’t want to say no or couldn’t?” His words hung in the night air.

Cillian shook his head. “Don’t go there. Please.”

“Right.” That was all Anthony needed to know, that it wasn’t as simple as two guys hooking up. “I still don’t see how that connects to Hayden.”

“Six months later, I entered a prestigious competition and won. My mentor, ex-mentor by that time, was a judge.”

“Oh.” That was a conflict of interest, but it was worse for the mentor.

“That win got me my agent. Without my agent, I wouldn’t be where I am.”

This time Anthony was silent as he saw the way everything stacked on that one performance. Cillian sighed and rubbed his face. “So, there you have it. I’m a fraud, your brother knows and will tell everyone if I don’t obey.”

“I want to make a joke about knowing a man who can make problems go away.”

Cillian sniffed and laughed. “But it’s not a joke?”

Anthony grimaced. “I know more than one.” He put his arm around Cillian and moved closer. So it turned out Cillian did want something from him… He wanted his help. Not connections or money or any of the things Margot feared.

Memories of the party rolled through his mind, followed by every interaction they’d shared. He wanted to believe that Cillian hadn’t slept with him to bring him closer, but why tell him now, after what had been a lovely evening?

Cillian leaned against him. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It will look far worse for your mentor than you.” Especially given the power imbalance in the affair and Cillian’s refusal to examine whether he’d been willing or coerced.

“But everyone will think I fucked my way to the top.”

Some people might paint it that way. Hayden would. “You were young, and he had the power. He used you.”

“Can you not?”

Anthony pressed his lips together. “Okay. You had an affair with a well-connected man who helped further your career. I’m sure there are plenty who are very jealous you got that chance.”

Cillian’s voice was little more than a whisper. “It was all very secretive. He didn’t want people to find out.”

“I can imagine,” Anthony said dryly. He’d always hated people who abused the power they had over others. “Have you considered telling your mentor that you’re being threatened with exposure? He might take steps?—”

“He’s dead. Two years ago. I hoped people might speak up. What if it was just me?”

“Then he was enamored with you and your talent and wanted you to succeed.”

Cillian nodded, staring straight ahead.

“Did you really think I’d walk away?”

He shrugged. “He’s your family, and I have a history of sleeping with people to get what I want.” His voice pitched up, and he laughed. That fake one people used at parties they didn’t want to be at. He’d heard it at Hayden’s party and had recognized it then.

“Is that what Hayden said about you?” Margot had said something similar. But Cillian wasn’t a grasping user. He had a trauma that he’d kept buried and didn’t want exposed.

“Amongst other things.” He licked his lips. “I understand if you won’t help.”

“Stop being so understanding. I never said I won’t, but I need to think about what to do. I know one hundred percent that Hayden is a massive dick, and I believe you had no choice.”

“Fuck you.” But Cillian didn’t pull away, even when Anthony pulled him closer.

“You wish.”

Cillian huffed.

“Have you thought about talking to a therapist?”

“I have one. When my uncle?—”

“Oh, God.” Just when he was sure the story couldn’t get worse.

Cillian’s head snapped around, eyes wide. “He didn’t hurt me. He killed my aunt and cousins. Judge Fraser, look it up.”

Anthony didn’t need to. That had been a big case before his troubles began. “I remember it. He was friends with my father.” He hadn’t connected the dots because Cillian talked about growing up on a farm and Fraser was a common name.

“I was supposed to stay with them while I was at uni… If he’d waited six months, I might’ve been there. Or if he’d let her move out and move on, I might have stayed with her. I don’t know. It was… a rough time.”

That was putting it mildly.

It wouldn’t take much for Anthony to put together the exact timeline of events. From the murder, to when Cillian won the competition, to playing at Hayden’s wedding. Cillian had been a country kid in Sydney, looking to make his mark, and the wolves had left theirs instead, causing scars he didn’t want revealed.