Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Jack

I sat at my desk, staring blankly at the spreadsheet open on my monitor. My mind wasn’t on the budget projections or the slew of emails I needed to answer. It was stuck on Liam. On the look on his face when I left him standing on the sidewalk, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Do you really want to be a professional porn star?”

The memory of my words made my stomach twist. I could’ve phrased it better—hell, I could’ve just kept my mouth shut. But no, I had to act like some judgmental ass, then turn around and leave him there. The guilt gnawed at me, clawing its way through every attempt I made to focus.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. The truth was, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t fathom how anyone would willingly choose that kind of life, no matter how quick the money came in or how easy it seemed. The thought of being that exposed—to strangers, to the world—it was incomprehensible. But that didn’t mean I had the right to shame him for it. Liam didn’t deserve that from me. If anything, he deserved support, not me acting like some sanctimonious prick.

Plus, I was on film too, now. And I couldn’t ask Liam to take the videos down, especially now that he was making real money. At least he wasn’t making the silly videos with complete strangers anymore. Like, what the hell was he thinking, letting that strange dude into his bed? That was a surefire way to make the STD clinic a regular part of his life. Plus, that guy wasn’t nearly good enough for him.

A notification pinged on my phone, snapping me out of my spiral. I grabbed it, grateful for the distraction, and saw a name I hadn’t been expecting: St. Kitt’s Contracting.

“Barrett,” I answered, trying to sound more focused than I felt.

“Good morning, Mr. Barrett,” came the gruff voice of Charles Monfils, the contractor who’d finally agreed to take on Evelyn Van Alen’s med-spa project. “I’ve been looking over the plans and budget your team sent over. Gotta say it’s tight. Real tight. But it’s doable.”

“That’s a relief,” I said, sitting up straighter. Evelyn’s ludicrously small budget had already scared off two other contractors. Monfils was the last hope of getting this thing off the ground without going back to her with bad news. And bad news wasn’t an option—not if I wanted to keep my job.

“Yeah, but here’s the thing,” he continued. “I’m gonna need someone from your firm to come down here for a few days. Check out the site, meet the team, make sure everyone’s on the same page. Otherwise, I’m not signing off on this.”

A heavy sigh escaped me before I could stop it. “Understood. I’ll talk to my boss and see what we can arrange.”

“Good. Let me know soon. We’ve got a tight timeline.”

“Will do,” I said, and we ended the call.

I set the phone down and stared at it for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling on my shoulders. This was my life now: catering to the whims of people like Evelyn Van Alen, who wouldn’t know a realistic budget if it smacked her in the face.

Damn, all those nights I spent studying at school until my eyes burned, dreaming of building something meaningful, something that mattered—they’d brought me here. To this. Running around, bending over backward to make a spoiled socialite’s vanity project a reality.

A sharp pang of self-loathing hit me. How could I judge Liam’s choices when my life felt like one big-ass compromise? At least he was doing something bold, something unapologetically his own. Me? I was just a cog in someone else’s machine, spinning endlessly and getting nowhere.

My phone rang again, jolting me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen. My boss, Andrea. Great.

I answered, trying to keep the weariness out of my voice. “Hi, Andrea.”

“Jack, can you come to my office? Now?”

The clipped tone in her voice sent a spike of unease through me. “Sure thing. Be right there.”

I hung up, already bracing myself for whatever fresh hell awaited. As I grabbed my notepad and headed for her office, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this what I’d worked so hard for? And if it wasn’t, what the hell was I going to do about it?

When I knocked on Andrea’s door, her sharp voice cut through. “Come in.”

I stepped inside, and she gestured for me to sit. As I settled into the chair, she stood and began pacing behind her desk, her expression obviously irritated.

“Jack, I realize Evelyn Van Alen is a demanding client,” she began, her tone clipped. “But she’s complaining about how slow things are going. Have you even found a contractor yet that will work with her budget?”

Relief flooded me for once. “Actually, I have,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Charles Monfils, with St. Kitt’s Contracting. He’s reviewed the plans and said it’s tight, but he can work with it.”

Andrea stopped pacing, and to my surprise, a rare smile crossed her face. “Good. I knew you could do it.”

The praise caught me off guard, and I fought the urge to let it show. “There’s one thing, though,” I said, clearing my throat. “Monfils wants someone from the firm to go down to St. Kitts. He won’t sign the contracts unless we check out the site and meet the team.”

Andrea’s eyebrow arched, and a sly grin tugged at her lips. “What are you saying, Jack? Trying to score yourself a free vacation to the Caribbean?”

I stifled a laugh, shaking my head. “Not at all. Just relaying the message.”

She chuckled, a rare sound, then nodded. “You’re doing an excellent job, Jack. I’ll check in with Evelyn to see if she’ll cover the costs for you to go. If she’s serious about this project, she’ll agree.”

“Thank you,” I said, standing up. The weight that had been pressing on my shoulders all morning seemed to lift slightly.

Andrea waved me off with a wink. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

As I walked out of her office, a grin spread across my face. The thought of a few days on a tropical island—even if it was for work—felt like a much-needed reprieve. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. And if Evelyn agreed to cover the trip, well, I’d be practically skipping my way onto that plane.

The idea of a mini-vacation to St. Kitts had put a spring in my step that even Evelyn Van Alen couldn’t crush. Back at my desk, I worked with a new sense of purpose, plowing through emails and finalizing details for the med-spa project. By the time I glanced at the clock, it was nearly seven, and the office was eerily quiet.

Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but I was still here, motivated by Andrea’s rare smile. That bit of encouragement was like jet fuel. I packed up my things and headed for the subway station, the crisp evening air refreshing after the stuffy office.

As I descended into the station, I scanned the platform automatically, half-expecting to see Liam. It had become a habit to look for him, though I knew he wasn’t commuting into the city anymore. He’d been honest with me about that, at least. Still, the absence of his familiar face sent a pang of something unnameable through me. I shook it off as the train pulled into the station.

Settling into a seat, I pulled out my phone. Over the weekend, Liam had given me access to the FantasyFans dashboard, and curiosity got the better of me. I opened the app and logged in, scrolling through the metrics. The numbers were staggering. Another two hundred and nine subscribers had joined Liam’s page since this morning. My jaw dropped.

“Wow,” I muttered under my breath. The revenue we were pulling in was incredible. As much as I hated the idea of being part of this world long-term, I couldn’t deny that it was turning into a lucrative endeavor. Still, the thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. Why couldn’t we have found success doing something… normal? Something that didn’t make me feel like I had to keep looking over my shoulder.

God, if my father ever found out about this, he’d probably disown me. The man spent my entire childhood drilling into me the importance of integrity and professionalism. This… this was the antithesis of everything he stood for. I sighed and closed the app, shoving my phone back into my pocket as the train pulled into my stop.

When I reached the apartment building, Dimitri, the security guard, was just leaving. He was as surly as ever, grumbling under his breath while Nessa chattered away, undeterred by his grumpiness. She spotted me and immediately lit up.

“Oh my God, Jack!” she squealed, practically running over. “You’re making videos with Liam, and they’re so hot!”

I felt the heat rise to my face instantly. “Nessa…” I started, but she cut me off.

“Don’t ‘Nessa’ me! You’re a natural! I mean, wow, those angles, the passion, your—”

“I’ve got to go,” I interrupted, stammering as I backed toward the elevator. “Liam’s… doing something for me upstairs.”

She raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “‘Something,’ huh?” she teased.

Thankfully, the elevator doors slid shut before she could say anything else. I leaned against the wall, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

When I got to the apartment, I walked in and called out, “Liam?”

Silence. I frowned, setting my bag down and heading toward his bedroom. I knocked on the door. “Liam? You in there?”

No answer. I opened the door and found the room empty. Then I heard it—a low groan coming from down the hall. My stomach tightened as I followed the sound to Bradley’s old room. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open.

Liam was on the bed, completely naked, his laptop perched on his thighs. He looked up, startled, his face turning crimson.

“Jack!” he yelped, scrambling to cover himself with a nearby blanket.

Stupid blanket.

I froze, my brain short-circuiting. “I… I didn’t know you were…” My voice trailed off as I struggled to find words that wouldn’t make this even more awkward.

I felt a stirring in my chest—and lower—that should have been impossible considering how many times we’d had sex over the weekend. I shook my head with a wry smile, stepping into the room. “Liam, I think we’re past the modesty stage by now.”

His blush deepened, which only made him look more irresistible. He patted the bed beside him, and I sat down, trying to ignore the heat building in my veins. Liam turned his laptop toward me, pointing at the screen.

“I didn’t realize our fans could chat with us,” he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “Our inbox is overflowing with messages from perverts wanting to, you know, do things with us. There’s no way I can chat with all these people—we’d never have time to do anything else.”

I shrugged, leaning back on my hands. “We’ll figure something out,” I said, though I didn’t know what that something might be. Then I reached out and cupped his chin.

“Wanna make another video?”