Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

Cillian air-kissed Hayden’s cheek and pretended they were friends the way he had for the last six years. “Happy birthday.”

He managed not to choke on the words.

“I’m so glad you came.” Hayden’s lips crashed into Cillian’s cheek, a little too wetly. He’d started the party early and was well on the way to being drunk.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Though it was less of an invitation and more of an order that he couldn’t refuse. He took a large swallow of his drink, vowing to only have one. He was there to prove what a success Hayden Davidson was, so the man could say, “Look who I got to play at my private party… Cillian Fraser.”

For the right price, Cillian played at any private party.

Unfortunately, Hayden didn’t pay, and Cillian couldn’t break the strings without bringing down the life he’d created. He should’ve called Hayden’s bluff the first time he’d made threats, but he’d worked too damn hard.

It was too fucking late to go back now. He was neck deep, and the tide was rising. Better to act the part and play the game, so no one got to peek beneath the armor. Everyone here had secrets, and they all knew Hayden’s. His wife had left him.

Cillian smiled and declined the offered glass of bubbly from the waiter, lifting the wine glass in his hand to show he was fine. He knew most people here, if not personally, then by name and gossip. Bianca, Hayden’s ex-wife, had left the country, which meant Hayden’s friends didn’t need to pick sides in the separation. That said, Cillian had known Bianca longer than Hayden and would never call Hayden a friend. He was a prick who’d step on his own grandmother to get ahead and then lie about it.

He’d hoped that with the separation, Hayden might forget about him. If anything, Hayden had gotten worse.

Cillian sipped the wine—it was expensive and French. No doubt some of the people here could tell the brand from one sip. Hayden was trying to impress. Was he hoping to snare a new wife? Would he go for a younger woman? Rush into something to prove that Bianca’s betrayal meant nothing? Everyone wanted to see what happened next.

Hayden stood a little too close. “Remember, I can send you back to the farm where you’ll be shoveling shit for the rest of your life.”

Cillian froze. It was that or dump the contents of his glass on Hayden.

“So don’t go getting any ideas about following Bianca to London.”

Cillian forced a laugh. “Why would I leave when I have people begging me to play?”

He wasn’t good enough to make it in London, where the music scene was much bigger and grander. Sure, he’d put in the hours, but sleeping with the wrong person shadowed all his work. Was it his success, or had it been a well-timed and unasked for favor, and now no one wanted to speak the truth that the pianist had no clothes?

Fuck. Cillian took a deep drink instead of nursing it.. He hated this shit. He loved playing; he loved performing. What he hated was the shmoozing and making connections.

Let me smooth the way…

He should’ve said no, but he hadn’t found the words. He liked to pretend that he’d been dazzled by talent and power. That was much nicer than admitting that he’d been taken advantage of. Somehow Hayden had found out about the affair, and Cillian’s subsequent successes, and he’d played on Cillian’s own doubts and fears…

From Bianca, he’d learned that’s what Hayden did. He collected people to make himself look good. He found leverage, and he used it. People who walked away were destroyed.

It wasn’t worth the twenty years in prison to break the glass and shank Hayden in the neck to rid the world of the cancerous excuse for a human. That he’d considered it on more than one occasion wasn’t healthy and something he couldn’t discuss with his therapist without discussing everything, and there was no way he was cracking open that lid.

He needed to accept that this was the game. And who wasn’t playing a game? Everyone was always looking for the right introductions because their next job depended on it. Everyone wanted to be at the right party, in case they missed an opportunity that might make their career.

Even this one. These were the people with money to throw at things. They might hear him tonight and consider him for their next corporate event, or they’d come to a performance… He needed someone with more power than Hayden to pull him out of this mess.

But then he’d be in a bigger one. What was the point in looking for a bigger shark if they all bit and wanted their chunk of flesh?

At least Hayden didn’t want to sleep with him.

“When would you like me to play?” Cillian spun the stem of the glass.

“I’ll tell you.” Hayden walked away, calling out to a man across the room.

Great. So until he was told to jump, he needed to act as if he was having fun. His gaze skipped over the room, looking for someone to talk to, but Bianca wasn’t there. There were several people he’d met at other events, or through Bianca, so he made his way over to what could be called the arts cluster.

Were they Hayden’s friends, or did he have something on them too?

He couldn’t ask, so they talked about arts funding and what shows were coming up and who was working with who, any new scandals… as well as who was getting married and divorced.

A couple entered the room, and several people took big enough gasps that the room became a temporary vacuum. The woman smiled, but the man looked as though he’d rather be somewhere else. Cillian studied them for a moment. Their body language was wrong for a couple, unless they’d had a fight. He let his gaze linger for a moment on the snug fit of the man’s suit that didn’t hide his muscular build and the line of his jaw. Cillian’s gaze caught, and his heartbeat quickened from the shot of lust. Plenty of men were tall and dark-haired, but few revealed they hated these things.

Interesting. He needed to know who he was and what he did.

Hayden strode over to greet them, looking as though he wanted to push them back out the door. His smile was a strained grimace of annoyance. Anyone who upset Hayden that much was someone worth knowing.

Interest piqued, Cillian leaned closer to the woman next to him. “Who is he?”

“Hayden’s brother.” She mock-whispered. “The gay one who just got out of jail.”

Cillian remembered Hayden talking about his brother being a bad apple. What had he done? He didn’t think the details had ever been mentioned. It might be as dull as a mass of unpaid parking fines, or drunk driving… or perhaps he’d arranged a hit to have someone killed.

Maybe the brother knew someone willing to solve his problem.

Cillian nodded, playing dumb wouldn’t get him any answers. “Mmm, I heard Hayden didn’t like him.”

That was a safe guess given the state of Hayden’s rather frozen smile and rigid body.

“He doesn’t, but the sister clearly dragged the criminal in to make it a family affair. Watch your valuables,” the older man said.

Cillian kept his smile in place. Hayden’s family was nothing like his. Their money was in land and cattle. It wasn’t worn or displayed. And while he was doing okay, he wasn’t wearing ten-thousand-dollar watches, and his suits came off the rack and were altered, not tailored.

Curiosity got the better of him, because why did a Davidson need to steal anything? “What did he do?”

“Armed robbery?” one man suggested.

“No, there were no guns involved, but it was theft,” said another.

“Expensive cars, for his boyfriend?”

“I thought it was drugs,” Isabella hissed. She was a composer Cillian had worked with two years ago and had met because of Bianca. Isabella’s parties were wild and legendary.

Clearly no one knew the truth, but the brother had done something illegal and annoyed Hayden. Cillian finished his drink. “How about I find out the truth and you all owe me a dinner?”

There was a pause as they considered this. Their gazes flicked between him and the brother as though weighing up the gamble. They could pull out their phones and find out in thirty seconds, but that took away the fun of finding out in person and watching him go over. They wanted entertainment, not the truth.

And he knew how to put on a performance.

“What are you going to do? Please don’t do anything stupid. I’ve had too much to drink to bail you out,” Isabella said.

Cillian gave her a tight grin. He didn’t do things that required bail—even at her parties, because he wasn’t a fucking idiot. Most of the time. “I’m going to walk over, introduce myself, and ask him what he did.”

Before he second-guessed his plan, or examined his motives too deeply, he made his way over, taking long enough that it didn’t seem obvious while also giving Hayden a chance to walk away.

The tension between the brothers was obvious. Hayden’s brother—whose name he didn’t remember or had never heard—kept his gaze averted. He never once made eye contact, and he held himself as though waiting for something to happen. Cillian recognized that look too well, having spent his early teens in the same semi-frozen state, ready to run and hide in an instant if required. Getting out of the tiny country town had been a blessing; no one cared he was gay in Sydney. It was almost a bloody requirement in the arts community.

With a final sneer at his brother, Hayden spun on his heel and stalked away. The sister smiled and murmured something to the brother. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to have reassured him at all. Now was the time to step forward and be charming, so he did.

He’d met her before… at Hayden’s wedding, most likely.

“Hello, I’m Cillian. I think we met four years ago at the wedding?” He offered his hand, and the sister, who was clearly looking for a lifeline, took it.

“Yes, we did… Margot. This is Anthony. He’s been away.” Margot’s gaze hardened as she glanced at the man who must be her younger brother. It was clear if anyone started trouble involving Anthony, she’d step in and defend him. Cillian wasn’t sure Anthony needed her help given that he was taller than her, and him, by several inches.

Not that it mattered, as nothing was going to happen. Though even thinking that meant there was a whisper of hope that something might. He resisted the urge to yank at his collar, despite feeling too hot in his suit.

Anthony lifted his gaze. There was a razor edge in his blue eyes that had been concealed. He assessed Cillian, no doubt wondering what he wanted and how he was connected to all of this. Would he be surprised Cillian wasn’t. He’d been brought in so Hayden could show him off. He wondered if Anthony disapproved of the way Cillian styled his hair, or the bit of eyeliner?

Then the edge softened, and Anthony put his hand out as though finding Cillian acceptable. There was no weak grip or sweaty palm, but he looked like he’d rather be bleeding in a tank of piranhas than at the party. Being here was the social equivalent. Everyone was hungry and seeking a juicy morsel of some kind: food, gossip, social status…

Even him.

“Pleased to meet you, Cillian.” Anthony’s voice was deep and soft, and Cillian wanted him to say his name again in a more private setting.

It was another second, or five, before Cillian remembered to release his hand, but Anthony hadn’t released his either. The razors had become questions. Cillian could think of a few things to ask. Though none were appropriate for the situation. Damn.

His interest was no longer in finding out what Anthony had done, but what his preferred position was. Which was the last thing he should worry about, because Hayden would lose his shit if they hooked up.

Cillian let himself imagine peeling Anthony out of his suit for a moment, all the while wondering if the shitstorm it created was more than he could cope with. He didn’t need the scandal, no matter how attractive.

“I think we can stop being polite about it, Margot. They all know.” Anthony’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile, more of a lessening of the tension that had hardened his features.

“I can assure you they don’t.” Cillian smiled, but he’d find out before the night was through. If the brothers hated each other, perhaps Anthony knew something Cillian could use to get free.

Mutually assured destruction.

For the first time, there was a glimmer of something inside him. Not hope… perhaps it was just lust?

He needed to smother that, though the way Anthony was looking at him didn’t help. He glanced at Margot, but she’d already turned to talk to someone else.

Cillian considered his options—of which there were few. People were watching, so he needed to do more than walk away. Fuck it, might as well give them something to talk about instead of letting them imagine it all wrong. He lobbed the next play back at Anthony and offered his arm as though they were good friends. “Shall we?”