Chapter 13

~Gabe

Having fucked Justin twice, there"s no denying how much I want him. Every second it"s a struggle to keep my hands off him. Even when I resist the temptation, I can"t stop watching him. Partly it"s to make sure he"s OK, but also just because I"m constantly hungry for him, even if it"s just a glimpse of him.

Good thing I have to go to a meeting with the architect for Derrick"s youth center. I go to get ready, put on a suit. When I"m ready to go, Justin eyes me almost accusingly.

"A lunch date?" he says.

"Yes," I lie.

He narrows his pretty blue eyes at me. "A business meeting," he scoffs.

"Can"t fool you," I say with a chuckle and feel his eyes on me as I leave.

At the architect"s, I notice a young man working there who is almost as beautiful as Justin. Almost? When did I start thinking of him as the measure of beauty? He"s my skinny, sulking stepbrother. He should be untouchable to me, not someone I fuck out in the open where anyone can see. It"s like I"m inviting prying eyes, daring the world to judge us.

I must have spent too long staring at the young guy at the architect"s because when I"m leaving he steps into the elevator with me, eyes me eagerly and smiles. As he starts to give me his name, I raise my hand to stop him. "I don"t need to know who you are. I have my hands full."

Stepping off the elevator, I hear him call me rude, and he"s right. But I"m so busy always thinking about Justin, I can"t spare a single thought for anyone else.

I text Royce to let him know where things stand with the project. I"m counting on him to make things go smoothly. When he replies, he invites me to lunch.

I consider it, but I know I"ll spend the whole time fighting the urge not to question him about Justin. I hate that he knows things about him that I don"t, but if I really want to know, Justin is the one I should be asking.

I know why I haven"t asked him about himself, his troubles, his pain. I"m afraid of getting too close to him, though we"re too close already.

That"s only physical though. It"s enough that I worry about him without knowing what made him the way he is, why he looks so haunted. I know he lost his mother by suicide and that"s more than enough. But I can"t help feeling there is more.

At sunset when I come in, Justin is sweeping the leaves from the terrace and I"m standing in the living room, following his movements, remembering the feel of him naked. When he"s ready to come in, I turn away and start for my office.

Just when I think I have successfully resisted him, he comes in and walks past me, and I grab him and kiss him. As my lips move to brush over his face, he whispers, "I keep waiting for you to sneak into my bed."

"You can always sneak into mine," I tell him challengingly.

"I"m not that brave," he says.

"Or maybe you just don"t want me," I say and can"t keep the accusation out of my voice.

He pulls away and looks mad. "Right. I"m just a whore. But if I"m doing it for money, you should pay me more." He takes a step away from me and glares then walks away.

I don"t know why, but I text Royce. "Come over for dinner. Justin is cooking." Then I inform Justin of the plan for the evening.

His reply is, "Whatever." But for a second, he looked almost distraught.

"You"re joining us," I tell him. "And yes, that"s an order."

"And I thought you were a nice boss," he says impertinently but I can tell he"s very unhappy about my dinner plans. Why should he be? Royce is his savior, his benefactor. Or is he something else to him?

I don"t see Justin after that, but as I work in my office, I hear him in the kitchen. I"m pretty sure he"s making more noise than is strictly necessary for making dinner.

Honestly, I"m having second thoughts. I"m ready to text Royce and tell him something came up and cancel. I don"t. Some part of me wants to see how this will play out. I want to see Justin and Royce together. It strikes me as some kind of strange, twisted need. I wonder if I want seeing them together to turn me off, make me stop wanting Justin.

I almost expected Justin to make something terrible, but when the table is set, I see a simple pasta with fresh tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, olive oil and capers. I guess pasta is his fallback. There"s a green salad and a bottle of wine chosen at random.

"If you don"t like it, don"t eat it," he tells me so I might have been frowning.

"I think you"re just daring me to fire you," I tell him. "But that won"t happen."

"I"ll just have to try harder," he says and shoots me a humorless grin.

But when Royce arrives, Justin"s demeanor changes completely. It"s like he disappears inside himself, and I instantly regret forcing him into this dinner.

As we all sit down, Royce eyes him curiously then notices the food. "You really made this? Not bad."

Justin gives him a weak smile. He"s so ill at ease, I decide to let him off the hook. "If you"re really not hungry, Justin. You can go. Consider yourself off duty," I tell him.

"Really? And who"s going to do the dishes," he asks instantly less subdued.

"You can do them in the morning," I say.

"Well, maybe I am hungry," he says and puts some pasta on his plate while glaring at me defiantly.

Royce laughs and pours himself some wine. "I wasn"t expecting entertainment with dinner. But this does answer one question. You two are for sure fucking."

Justin goes pale and I almost get up to go to him. Royce notices and frowns. "Take it easy. You"re not doing anything wrong," he reassures Justin.

"Really?" Justin whispers and looks dismayed.

"Really. It"s all good," Royce tells him with a grin and I can"t help being confused, feeling left out.

Even as I worry about Justin, I hate the secret connection I see between them, and I hate myself for my jealousy.

The rest of the dinner is spent with me and Royce talking business and Justin staying quiet and looking like he wants to escape.

After Royce leaves, Justin insists on doing the dishes. Following him into the kitchen, I tell him to leave them until morning. He"s silently stubborn as he keeps doing them, but underneath that, he"s in pain. Royce knows why and I want to know.

While Justin is putting dishes in the dishwasher and facing away from me, I let him know, "You can talk to me if you want."

"Really? Why don"t you tell me about your trauma," he challenges me but stays turned away.

"About Derrick? OK," I say and Justin looks surprised as he faces me.

I can"t expect him to open up to me if I won"t do the same, so I start talking. I give Justin the short version of how I lost my brother. "His fishing boat was hijacked. He was held for ransom but things went wrong and he was killed."

"I"m sorry," Justin says. "And you blame yourself?"

"I should have assigned a security detail to him, and I should have never let him go off wherever he wanted," I grit out.

"You should have kept him under guard, kept him prisoner?" Justin says. "Not let him live his life?"

I have to admit the truth in what he says. "Derrick wouldn"t have stood for it."

"And you were his brother, not his parent," Justin points out.

"He was still my responsibility and I didn"t keep him safe. And when it came time to pay the ransom, I sent the money and an armed team to get Derrick out. That"s why he was killed." The weight of it is still crushing me and it always will.

"You were trying to save him," Justin says as he comes closer.

"I failed him in every way. I got him killed."

"Stop. It"s not your fault," Justin says and he wraps his arms around me. "It"s not your fault," he says again and I get the feeling that those are words he needs someone to say to him.