13. Oli

13

OLI

Even after staying up for half the night, Nikos fucking me in every conceivable position in his massive hotel suite, I'm wide-eyed and totally awake when I walk into work the next morning. The fact that Nikos had me buy clothes at least helped with avoiding any walk of shame which would have given us away - I'd purchased a cashmere jumper which felt like heaven, but at least looked like something I'd conceivably have in my own closet, tossing it on over the new jeans and slipping back into my normal Doc Martins.

Of course, I'd done it in full view of Nikos, still lounging on the bed like a Greek god, his head propped up on a hand, the rumpled sheets slung low over his hips.

I'd looked him dead in the eyes as I'd slipped on the underwear I'd purchased just for him. He'd looked like a starving man seeing food for the first time in weeks.

We've agreed to meet up tonight, back at my flat. The tight silk rubbing against my cock and arse are going to make it hard to focus on work today, but I've just got some mindless tasks editing the videos we took yesterday. The oversized jumper covers the fact that I'm still half-hard in my jeans, despite the multiple orgasms I'd had last night and the ache I'm still nursing from Nikos railing me.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

It's the singular thought running through my mind as I get to my desk. I don't do stuff like this - I'm cautious and boring and I love books. I'm not meant to be the one getting swept up in a whirlwind romance that I know will break my heart. Despite what we discussed last night at the restaurant, I know there's no way that I'm going to be able to escape from this without being heartbroken at the end - even if it's just grieving that the best sex of my life has come to an end.

But the way that Nikos had held me as we'd drifted off to sleep, the way that he'd run his hands through my hair - it let me dream, just a little bit, of doing this every night.

I want to slap myself but settle for shaking my head hard. No way do I want everyone thinking I'm insane, going around hitting myself until I see reason instead of gorgeous brown eyes. I sit down in my chair and shift through the piles of papers I've accumulated over the last day. Relief floods through me as I find my house keys, tucked under a printed-out stack of analytics from our last social media campaign. I make sure to tuck them into my bag carefully and take a picture of them just to remind myself that yes, I'm not crazy, I did put my keys away this time.

As a precautionary measure, I tidy my desk, junking most of the papers and sweeping up croissant crumbs. I throw a few empty paper cups with the dregs of tea into the bin, and then nod appreciatively at the janitor who scoots over on his rounds to collect the bag and then wipe down my desk with antiseptic cleaning solution. It's vaguely embarrassing that I've become such a slob, but once my desk is clean, my brain feels just a little bit better. Other colleagues are way messier than me - the man doesn't even blink when he walks away with my crumbs and cups and odd papers.

My phone lights up with a text. I almost break my wrist I reach for it so fast.

Holding it under the edge of my desk so that no one can see, I open the message from Nikos - saved in my phone as Adonis, of course - to find a selfie that takes my breath away. It's nothing lewd - it could have been posted on his own social media, the kind of picture that shows his gorgeous face and just a hint of bare chest, not a thirst trap but a thirst tease. The sunlight from the window is hitting his face and turning his eyes more hazel than brown, gilding his olive skin so that it looks like he's cast in bronze.

He's a fantasy come to life. I shift in my seat, tucking one leg underneath me and sliding down to accommodate the way my dick hardens.

Adnois

Really could have used some honey with my tea this morning.

The message is simple, discreet, meaningless if anyone looked at it. No one would know it was meant for me.

But I do.

I hover my thumbs over the keyboard to start typing a reply, but my phone rings instead. It's from a blocked number, and I roll my eyes. Sometimes journalists insist on using them, and it makes it hard to know whether I want to take the call or not. I sigh and answer.

‘Hello?' I put on my consummate professional voice. ‘Oliver Cane speaking.'

For a moment, there's only raspy, heavy breathing on the other end of the line. I almost hang up, considering it a wrong number or one of those annoying spam calls, but then the caller starts speaking.

‘I know what you did with him.'

My blood freezes instantly. ‘What?'

‘With Nikos Ridge. You kissed him in the elevator.'

I feel like I'm going to be sick. Who could have possibly known that? The voice doesn't sound like anyone I've ever spoken to, so it's not someone in the office. I know them all. We're not a big team. And we were alone in the elevator too.

‘I have the pictures,' the voice continues when I don't say a word. ‘And I'll show them to everyone, unless you get something for me.'

‘What?'' I manage to croak out. I don't know what's going on, but I feel like I'm going to vomit. I'm actually full-on shaking.

‘The watch that he wore to the movie premier,' the caller says. ‘I need it by the end of the weekend. Leave it at your special place along the river, in a coffee cup, by 9am on Monday. Or those pictures are being sent to the Daily Mail. Tell anyone about this and the same thing happens. I'll know. Trust me. If you tell Nikos, the photos will be plastered across every news site by next week. I'm not fucking around, Oliver.'

Today is Friday. That's less than three days from now. Are we being stalked? He must be following us, because how else would he know that spot? How else would he know that Nikos and I had been there?

Before I can ask any questions to try and get answers, there's a click on the other end of the line and the call ends. I toss my phone on my desk like it's made of spiders and wrap my arms around myself.

This has to be some insane fan. I know that actors sometimes struggle with stalkers, with fans who take things way too far. This person has to want some memento of the premier, or they're going to try to sell it at some auction for a load of money. And they're going to ruin Nikos' life unless I steal from him.

Nothing bad is going to happen to me if those pictures are revealed. They must be from the security camera and it's not like people don't know I'm gay. No one at work will care if I snogged someone in the elevator. They'd all clap me on the back, probably.

But it would ruin Nikos' career. And he's been very clear that he's not out and doesn't want to be. It's why I'm his secret.

It's why whatever this is between us has a two-week expiry date.

I can't tell Nikos. I just have to do what the caller says. It's not like he's going to notice a missing watch. He's probably got a million watches. And I'd be doing this to protect him.

‘Oli?'

I blink at the sound of my name. I look up, and Megan is standing there, a cup of coffee in her hands and a wrinkle between her eyebrows.

‘Are you alright? I said your name like three times.'

I wonder if I can speak without throwing up. ‘I must've eaten something bad. I'm not feeling good.'

‘Poor thing,' Megan murmurs, but I don't stop to talk to her. Instead, I get up and dash to the bathrooms, where I lock myself into a stall and proceed to throw up my breakfast - the breakfast I'd eaten in bed with Nikos. I'm a sweaty, dishevelled mess when I emerge, but I have to act like everything is alright. If I don't, I'm putting Nikos at risk.

Megan is still sitting on my desk when I come back, and she takes one look at me and mother hens all over, pulling me into her office and then going to fetch a bag of ice from the fridge and a cup of peppermint tea.

‘Here.' She shoves the tea at me and I grasp the mug in my clammy hands. She sits down on the couch next to me and puts the ice on the back of my neck.

‘Food poisoning is the worst,' she says as she motions for me to drink the tea. ‘Hopefully it's out of your system now. Do you need to go home?'

I shake my head, miserable. I'm not going home to my empty apartment to stew over the shit I've gotten us into. The ways in which I might hurt Nikos despite desperately not wanting to.

‘No,' I sigh. ‘I'm good.'

Spoiler alert: I was not good.

I'm actually not sure how I made it through the day. I spent a lot of time tapping idly at my keyboard whilst not producing any real words. When I don't text Nikos back, lost in the panic of the call, he sends another message through.

Adonis

Meet you after work like we agreed?

I bite my lip hard enough to bleed when I see that. I want to see him badly enough that my whole body aches with it, but I'm clearly putting him in danger. Still, if I want to avert the disaster that is this anonymous caller, I need to nick his watch.

Then, I should probably tell him that we should stop seeing each other. If this is what happens after just a few days of knowing each other, what would happen after a few weeks? There are an untold number of batshit insane fans out there. I like Nikos far too much to risk him.

But that doesn't take away from the issue at hand. This stalker wants his watch, otherwise career-ending photos will be leaked.

I'm on the tube, and my mind keeps flashing back to the way he'd looked so sad and lost during our filming. The gentle, caring, vulnerable side he'd showed me on our date. The way he'd let me fall asleep on his shoulder in the car.

This must be why he's so guarded. Shit like this must happen to him all the fucking time.

It makes me sick enough that I want to throw up again.

One more date. One more night. I'll tell him while we're out that we're going to fuck one more time and that's it. I'll tell him I've changed my mind. I'll get the watch and he'll never see me again. I can't handle the pressure of keeping this a secret. It will be close enough to the truth.

Except when I see Nikos sitting on the steps to my building, his head in his hands, I feel a physical pain in my chest, bad enough that I wonder if I'm having a heart attack.

It's the way he smiles, genuine and unguarded, when he looks up and sees me.

‘Hey,' he says as I walk up the steps to meet him. ‘I missed you.'

I don't touch him until I unlock the door and we step inside. Then I fall into his arms, letting him hold me tight. Being this close to him makes me feel safe, like everything is going to be alright.

‘I missed you too,' I mumble against his chest. Even the smell of him steadies me.

How the fuck am I going to let this go?

‘Are you alright?' He pulls back and looks at me, frowning. ‘You're really pale.'

I shake my head, trying to act normal. ‘I didn't have time for lunch. It was a wild day at work. I'm starved.'

That excuse works, because his frown rights itself into a grin. ‘That, luckily, is something I can help with. Do you think you can wait about an hour? I had a plan for tonight.'

‘Yeah,' I say, because honestly, I'm not sure if I can eat at all. ‘I can wait.'

‘Good.' Nikos smiles at me. ‘Drop your stuff in your apartment and we're going out. We need groceries.'

‘Huh?' The power of words has honestly deserted me. ‘What for?'

He flicks me on the nose, grinning impishly. ‘I'm going to cook for you. A special family recipe. I hope you like Greek. And I'm even dressed for the occasion.'

Nikos gestures down to himself, and I notice that he's shed his normal high-end wardrobe. He's wearing a worn-down hoodie and broken-in jeans, a baseball hat on his head and sunglasses tucked onto the neck of the hoodie, running shoes on his feet. I've never seen him look this casual - I wouldn't know he was a celebrity if I didn't know him.

‘That's in public,' I say stupidly. ‘Is that safe?' The only thing filling my thoughts are the threats that the caller made this morning.

‘That's the trick,' he says, giving me a wink. ‘No one expects a celebrity to be in Aldi.'

If he's not worried, I determine not to be worried. ‘We're coming back here?'

‘I'll even stay the night.' Nikos smirks.

It's perfect. He's got a watch on - I can see the flash of it under the cuff of his hoodie. I can't tell if it's the same one from the premier, but who the fuck cares. This person just wants something that touched Nikos Ridge's skin. He'll stay with me, we'll get undressed, the watch will conveniently get lost, and the next morning I'll call it quits. We don't have to speak ever again after that.

The thought is wrenching. I smile anyway. ‘Let me drop my stuff.'

I practically fling my bag into the entryway of my house. I make sure I have my keys this time, and my wallet - although I doubt Nikos would make me pay for anything.

‘Come on then,' he says, holding open the front door for me. ‘Let's go.'

I take a deep breath and join him, my eyes darting around. Nikos pops the sunglasses on and takes my hand. I'm instantly hyper-aware of the surroundings, but the people walking by don't spare us a second glance. We're just two men walking down the street after work.

It feels too normal. It feels too much like something I want.

I should let go of his hand, but instead I just hold it tighter.

The shop is only a five-minute walk from where I live, and every minute of it is simultaneously a nightmare and a dream. I'm afraid of paparazzi or fans jumping out from behind the bushes, but I also can't stop myself from imagining what it would be like to spend each and every day like this.

Aldi is packed, the after-work crowd at full swell. Nikos grabs a basket with his free hand and tugs me along to the produce section, picking up herbs and onions and shiny red bell peppers, sticking them in the basket. He never once lets up on his grip, like he's afraid that if he releases my hand I'll run away.

Maybe he's more perceptive than I give him credit for.

But still, I relax the more we shop, not trusting myself to speak but leaning greedily into Nikos' side, enjoying his warmth. It's all fine until we stop by the butcher counter.

Oh fuck no. Fuck me.

My entire body tenses until I'm stiff as a board, and Nikos gives a little yelp of pain. I look down and realise I'm gripping his hand so tightly that his skin is turning red from the pressure.

‘Oli.'

Two male voices saying my name at the same time. Nikos, easing his hand out from mine to put his arm around my shoulders, his eyes wide with concern.

Geoff, standing behind Nikos, his face etched with fury.

I whimper. Nikos turns, tucking me into his side, to glare at Geoff. He must have heard him say my name.

‘You fucking little slut,' Geoff hisses. He looks terrible - his beard unshaven, his hair too long, his eyes bloodshot. He's standing there with a basket full of generic products. Geoff never bought generic, the snob. ‘It's been what, two months? And you're already sleeping with someone else?'

I open my mouth to defend myself, to say you were the one having sex with other men in our bed. But my face is flushed with humiliation, and I know that if I start to speak, the angry tears building in my eyes will overflow.

Thank God Nikos comes to my rescue.

‘Do not,' Nikos practically growls, ‘speak to Oliver that way.'

‘Be careful of him.' Geoff barks out a harsh laugh. ‘Lost my job because of that one. He broke my heart enough that it wasn't in my work anymore either.'

There's a strong smell of alcohol coming off Geoff, and I have a sneaking suspicion about what precisely he was doing instead of working.

‘Frankly, that seems like a you problem.' Nikos dips his head down to press a kiss to the top of my head. ‘He's treated my heart just fine. And my cock even better.'

Nikos glares at Geoff and it must scare the crap out of him - Nikos is bigger and broader and looks like he could take Geoff out in a heartbeat - and I feel just a little bit better when Geoff sneers, but then turns on his heels and leaves.

I curl into Nikos, grateful that he's holding me. I didn't think I'd ever run into Geoff again, although I'd stood in the shower enough nights thinking about what exactly I would yell at him if I did see him again. But it turns out that when faced with him, I was just a coward.

Which is how I know that I'm not going to be able to let Nikos Ridge go.