34. Hotaru
My phone buzzes as it has every day for the last two days. Nine a.m. sharp. A Japanese country code. Unprogrammed number. Like each day before, I don’t answer it. The robot or caller does not leave a message.
I shove the phone back in my pocket and continue down the corridor. The newspaper folded under my arm burns me the whole way.
Mio sees me coming and stands. Her tiny hands folded primly over her perfect violet suit. It sets off her long black hair pinned neatly at the base of her skull. “He has a nine o’clock meeting.”
“In there?” I point at the massive double doors.
Her perfectly bowed lips scrunch. “They’re running late. Traffic, but they should be here?—”
“I’ll leave when they arrive,” I say, pushing into the office without knocking. The man’s been in my ass and my throat. I’m not knocking. Not that I did before.
He’s pacing behind his desk. His laptop is open on it and stacks of papers strewn across the surface. Pie charts. Graphs. Spreadsheets. All forgotten.
“What’s wrong?” I close the door and stride toward him, having a feeling I know. It does nothing for the heartburn searing my inside since my first gulp of tea.
“Just a meeting.” He looks at his timepiece. “They’re due any minute.”
“You’re never nervous for meetings.” I pull the paper from under my arm and try not to wrinkle it with my grip.
“It’s a buyout.”
“You don’t do buyouts anymore.” He only stops pacing when I block his path.
“It’s a bit of a favor.” He runs a hand over his face.
The tightness of his jaw and the furrow of his brow make my insides tight. Tight and burning. Not a good combo.
“Hailey’s charity is rubbing off on you?”
“Something like that.” He sighs. “What do you have for me?”
I grab his face and kiss him, needing the contact before I blow this up in our faces. His hand goes around my throat and he pulls me closer, invading my mouth with his tongue.
We don’t kiss at work. Not when people are here, anyway. His possessive reaction and groan make my head floaty and my dick as hard as the rods running through it.
Too soon, he pulls back.
“I…” Arlo says.
At the same time, I blurt, “We…”
“Go ahead.” He rubs his thumb over my lower lip and then steps to a respectable distance.
I hate that distance, but it’s prudent. Or it would be if I hadn’t already blown the lid off this thing we have going. Whatever it is.
“We made the front page of the sports section, plus an article on page six.” I unfold the paper and show him the New York Times article with a picture of the three of us in a lip-lock taking up the top fold with the headline, “Rangers Win While Fans Score.” The article doesn’t name us. Yet . It’s only a matter of time. Right now, their angle is LGTBQ+ inclusion in sports. The pros and cons.
Fucking cons? My eyes would roll if this wasn’t so damn serious.
“Should have made the front page, period.” Arlo takes the paper and studies the image. The corner of his mouth tips up. “That’s fuckin’ hot.”
My jaw detaches and lands somewhere around my wingtips’ laces. “You’re not worried?”
“About what?” he says, still gawking at the pic of us kissing.
“Them digging in? Naming names? Blowing a lid off this thing?”
Finally, his gaze lifts from the paper and pins me. “This thing?”
I huff. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know why you’d refer to our relationship as a thing.” He lifts a brow.
It’s my turn to drag a hand down my face. Arlo and Hailey are established. They’re together. I’ve loved Arlo as long as I can remember, and I know he loves me. I love Hailey. Hailey loves me. Though we’re not established, they spend every night at my house, but it’s only my home when they’re present. We never go to their home.
“I don’t know what we’re doing. What this is. What the rules are. I just?—”
A knock sounds at the door and cuts me off.
“Your meeting. I’ll go.” I turn to leave. To retreat and regroup.
“Stay.” He grabs my arm, burning me through my suit.
“I’m not up to speed. I won’t be much help to you.” I shrug him off.
“That’s not why I want you to stay.” He puts the paper on his desk and points at the seating area where we got each other off a few weeks ago. “Please?”
Like a good boy, I nod and stalk toward the place he first rubbed our dicks together. I choose one of the two single chairs across from the sofa. I can’t bear to sit next to anyone right now. Especially Arlo. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my hands or emotions to myself.
My back is to the door when several people enter. I recognize Ziya, Arlo’s corporate lawyer, by the jingle of her bracelets. She rushes in, a vibrant splash of teal, pink, and gold in the muted tones of the office. Smoothing the traditional Indian dress under her bottom, she takes the seat to my immediate right, leaving the head chair open for Arlo.
“Hota.” She nods and quickly pulls several files and an iPad from her bag. Her pretty mocha face squints at the screen and types furiously.
“Z. How are you?”
“Behind schedule because these backwoods clients didn’t account for New York City traffic. I had to reschedule my next meeting.” She huffs. “If they mess up my whole day…” Her head shakes.
If I were in a better mood, I’d laugh. I adore Z. She looks like a demure Indian lady. I’ve seen businessmen underestimate her time and again. Oh, the aftermath. It’s glorious.
“Backwoods? Where from?” I ask more out of a need to keep the conversation going than curiosity.
“Oklahoma.” She whispers the word like it’s a witch’s curse.
It might be. My body seizes like it’s under a spell.
Arlo nervous for a meeting. A buyout. A favor.
“I’ve never been, but it sounds barbaric.” Z shivers and opens a file.
“What kind of company?” I manage.
“Real estate.” She flips open the top file. “Why anyone would buy in a place called Stillwater is beyond me. Sounds creepy.”
“Still waters run deep.” A familiar voice that never fit into the backdrop of OSU with its deep bravado and rich British accent rumbles from just behind us.
“Exactly.” Ziya shudders. “You never know what’s in there. How did a Brit like you get stuck in a place like that?”
“It’s not all bad. Right, Hota?”
I turn to find a bull of a man behind me. He’s taller and wider than he was when I knew him. He’s better looking too, and that’s saying something.
“You’ve been to Stillwater, Oklahoma?” I hear Z ask the question, but I can’t answer.
It takes all my wits just to stand.
“Our Hota went to college at Oklahoma State,” Arlo says for me, nearing the seating area with another man in a suit trailing him.
Our?
Nate’s thick brow twitches. His eyes track from Arlo back to me. “Yes, our Hota did.”
Arlo clears his throat and gestures to the guy behind Nate. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Mio follows them. “May I get you all something to drink?”
The guy I don’t know orders water. Sparkling. Barely contained eye roll. Z and Arlo order tea, while Nate declines anything. As do I. No way I can hold anything down right about now.
Nate’s gaze drags over me from top to bottom and back again. “You look good.”
I can’t do anything or say anything. It’s like staring at a ghost. A ghost I fucked once upon a time.
He rounds the chair and pulls me to his barrel chest. He slaps my back like a straight dude. Which runs contrary to the groan he rasps into my ear. “You smell good too.”
My arms don’t do much of anything except hang uselessly at my side.
“Have a seat,” Arlo barks. He motions to the other end of the sofa. “We need to get started.”
Nate releases me, dragging his hand over my chest as he steps back and heads toward his spot.
My gaze falls to Arlo, who stands next to me. His eyes are molten, and his jaw is ready to pop.
Suddenly, mine is too.
How fucking dare he invite Nate here for a favor and not even mention it? Had I not come to his office, I’d never have known any of this was happening. Though, like many things with Arlo, I don’t even know what this is.
I flick my cuffs and sit while glaring at him. “Nathanael, what brings you to New York?” I swing my gaze to my old teammate.
“A series of unfortunate events.” He eyes me. “Though every cloud has its silver lining.”
“A typhoon doesn’t.” Arlo finally sits. “I’d say that’s what you’re in the middle of, Nate, no?”
The guy who got what I wanted to give Arlo laughs a deep chuckle. “It is quite the mess. My partner…” He pauses, shifting his gaze from Arlo to me. “My business partner cleaned out our account and disappeared, leaving me with two options. Go bankrupt or ask a favor from an old friend.”
“Arlo?” I ask.
“Obviously.”
“Since he’s loaded?” I push.
“Well…” Nate adjusts his tie and smiles. “That doesn’t hurt.”
“What about your family? They’re loaded,” I snap back.
“They don’t agree with the way I live my life.” Nate rolls his shoulders as though it doesn’t hurt. The truth, as I know it from experience, buffers my anger just a little.
“What’s the deal?” I ask Z since I know she won’t bullshit me, and I can’t bring myself to look at Arlo right now.
She hands over a piece of paper.
I read the finer points. Arlo buys Nate’s company for ten million, which includes the four properties close to campus as well as his debts. Z hands over a property valuation as well as the company books. It’s not a terrible deal because of the property value. It’s a terrible deal because it won’t turn a profit for more than five years, as is, which makes it shitty. That’s with the projected property value increases holding.
“Why not take your partner to court?” I ask Nate, not bothering to look at him either.
“I am, the second my PI finds him. When I do, courts take years to make rulings. Knowing Kyle, there won’t be any money left by the time that day comes. I have bills due next month and don’t have the cash to pay.” He clears his throat.
“Insurance?” I snip, irritated with him and Arlo for no great reason.
“Won’t pay since he’s authorized on the account,” the other guy answers.
“Who are you?” I look at him.
The older gentleman squirms in his seat. “I’m Andrew Castleburn, Mr. Hatfield’s attorney.”
Mio returns with drinks, setting a pitcher of water and glasses on the low table.
“Mio, please have Elon bring me my laptop,” I whisper for her ears alone.
“Yes, Mr. Kido.” She bows and rushes out.
Arlo catches my gaze, but I pull it back to the papers, then shift it to Ziya. “Do you have a file on the real estate?”
She hands it over, while Arlo and the lawyer begin talking about their deal. I flip through the pictures and descriptions of each property. Two are commercial spaces only being utilized to half their potential. The residential property needs work and has space for an additional building, which could increase profits.
It’s the vacant building that has my attention.
With old-style architecture and wide-open rooms, I see a student resource center before I even hit the description page. It’s nothing but empty space right now, but it has so much potential to help young adults who are struggling, like I struggled.
“Sir.” Mio hands over my laptop.
“Thank you.” I’m so focused that I don’t even take the opportunity to irritate her. I run a quick background check on Nate and his business partner. Sure enough, he has grievances filed with the local courts and the sheriff’s department lists his partner as missing, but crossed the border into Mexico two weeks ago.
“I’ll take the deal.”
A hush comes over the room.
Nate’s gaze swings from me to Arlo and back. “But?—”
Arlo’s expression is unreadable.
“I’m loaded too.” I shrug.