Stir (The Sizzle TV Series Book 5)

Chapter 21 – Nic

Tuesday is supposed to be a boring workday. Don’t get me wrong, it is, typically. It helps that I like my work, but my caseload this week is light, and Finn’s been sleeping at his own apartment since Saturday.

And then there’s that couch. That goddamned couch.

I’d burn it, except now I have to keep it for the rest of my life. I can’t even look at it without remembering Natalie, laid out like a work of art across it. Or Finn, saying it was made for blow jobs, then taking my entire world apart with his mouth.

Why did I buy that fucking couch? It’s sitting over there, taunting me with things I shouldn’t have done and would absolutely do again, given the opportunity.

Not that there’s been an opportunity. Finn won’t talk about it, but something obviously happened at brunch with his sister. And if Finn’s not in it, Natalie’s not there either. She claimed it was all of us or none of us, and yeah, I agree with her on principle. But… But…

I hit the button on my phone to buzz Natalie’s desk.

“Remind me to order a new couch.”

The door opens barely a beat later. In walks Finn, hot as hell in his suit today. Today, he skipped the dress shirt in favor of a black Henley tee, and the effect is… making me shift in my chair. He looks like a fucking action movie hero.

“Natalie’s gone to pick up lunch, remember?”

“Right. Forgot.”

“You’re getting rid of the couch?” I can’t identify that note in his voice. He sounds almost stricken.

“Don’t start.” I give him a look.

Yes, start. Start now.

“Aw, Nic. You’ll break my heart.” He walks over and strokes a hand over it lovingly, right over the spot on the arm where I’d thrown my head back and come all over the place while he and Natalie teased the idea of me fucking him.

Finn catches me adjusting myself under the desk. His eyes spark with mischief. He helps himself to a seat, sprawling out on the couch, legs spread wide, a lot like I had the other night.

“Something on your mind, boss?”

I’m out of my chair and crossing the room before I even realize what I’m doing, shoving him back against the couch, pressing a thigh between his, taking his mouth roughly. I can feel how hard he is through far too much fabric. It shouldn’t be hot, and I shouldn’t be doing this at all, but all the shouldn’t in the room just makes me burn hotter for it. For him.

He makes a surprised noise, his hands pulling me close, one in my hair, the other on my ass, grinding us together in a rhythm that’s going to cause one hell of a mess if I don’t back the fuck up.

“Finn.”

“Natalie will be here any minute,” he growls. “You know she’d love to see this: you wrecking me over this fucking couch.”

I groan into his open mouth, kissing him deeply.

All my rules, my carefully constructed life, blown to hell by a personal assistant and a pain-in-the-ass next-door neighbor. What could possibly go wrong?

The office door clicks, and I break the kiss, catching my breath, thinking Natalie’s going to catch us like this, imagining in a flash what happens after that. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to lock the door behind her.

“Nic! You in there? I’ve got?—”

It’s not Natalie. Before I’m all the way off the couch, off of Finn, my father barges right through the door to my private office.

He stops, frozen in the doorway.

“Nic?”

I straighten my tie as Finn stands up, buttoning his jacket, tense in a way I recognize as assessing the threat level.

“Hello, Dad.”

The glare he sends me is so malevolent that Finn’s hand moves for his holster.

“Next-door neighbor, huh? You never did have any goddamn sense.”

“You remember Finn Hale.”

“I don’t care if he’s the queen of fucking England. I raised you better than this, Nicolas!”

“You’d better wait out front,” I say to Finn without looking right at him. If I look at him now, something’s going to break.

Finn looks between us. He doesn’t want to leave me alone with my father.

“I’ll be fine.” I can feel the concern, the worry, the care in his expression, but I cannot look at him right now. Finn walks to the door, hesitates, then pulls it shut behind him.

“What the fuck are you thinking? Fucking around with the queer shit.”

“Stop.”

“I will not stop. Do you have any idea what this will do to your reputation?” His voice rises. “To mine?”

I blink. “I did not consider your reputation when I started dating at sixteen. Why should I start now?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Dad’s face goes so red, it’s nearly purple.

“You dated girls. Not this.” He flings his arm out in the direction of the door.

“This is who I’ve been since I was a teenager.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

I don’t say anything, and after a long moment, I see it start to sink in.

“You’re—”

“Bisexual, yes.”

“Why?”

That shakes a startled laugh out of me, even though it’s not funny at all. A look of deep disgust takes over his face. I’ve spent years avoiding this conversation just to prevent myself from having to see that look. It’s not as awful as I thought it would be. It’s worse.

For a man who’s never entirely approved of me, not in my whole life, I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t matter what he thinks or why, and I shouldn’t spend any more time here than I have to.

But the wound is there. Has been for a long time. It deepens and I don’t know how to close it.

“Not why, Christ. Why now? Why are you telling me this? I hope to God you’re not thinking of going public.” He says public like it’s something filthy, like a curse.

“We haven’t discussed it.”

“But you’re thinking about it,” he says, searching my face, his eyes sharpening. “Son of a bitch. You’ve already considered it. You cannot possibly be serious.”

I don’t answer. There’s no point.

“Think of the damage this will do. In circles like ours! You’ll never get another client, not in this town.”

I stay silent. There’s nothing he can say to me that I haven’t said to myself, anyway.

“Good God, Nic. I knew you were an idiot, but I didn’t think you were actually this stupid. Get your shit together. For fuck’s sake, keep it in your pants.”

“That’s fucking rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t like your tone, son.” He straightens up. I can practically see his bottomless well of bluster refilling. “And I don’t like what you’re implying.”

I roll my eyes.

“Get your shit together, Nic. I mean it. Stop this… association. Don’t throw away everything we’ve worked for.”

“This is my life,” I manage to say between gritted teeth. “My personal life. It has nothing to do with you.”

“That’s not the way it works in the real world. Best you realize that.” He puts his hand on the door. “End it. Now. Before anybody else finds out. Whatever whim this is, it’s not worth burning down everything we’ve built.”

I don’t nod. I don’t move. I don’t say anything at all.

“Your mother expects you for dinner Friday night. Don’t be late. I want you to have this… situation taken care of by then. Don’t disappoint me again.”

He says something to Finn on his way out, terse and low. I don’t bother to follow him.

I go back to my desk, staring at the paperwork blindly. My eyes snag on something glinting on the couch; it’s the tiny metal clasp of a pen, bright against the leather. I must have dropped it before.

I knew this would happen. I knew it could never work between us. Hadn’t I thought through all the possible outcomes years ago?

It was why I told Rand we could only see each other in secret all those years ago. And why I said the same to every other man I’ve ever been with.

Christ, Dad doesn’t even know Natalie is involved. If this is his reaction to finding out I’m dating Finn—yes, dating, because it’s not just screwing around, and I know now it never was—how much worse would that nasty scene have gotten if he found out Natalie’s part of it, part of us?

Christ.

“Nic?”

I sit up, rub away moisture from my eyes, and see Natalie in the doorway, Finn just behind her.

“Good, you’re back. I’m going to need some help sorting the Baker files. I promised to get the final version of the contract to them by close of business today.”

“Of course,” she says quietly. Finn starts to say something, but she shakes her head at him. He stops. Then she waits.

It’s an effective trick, one I’ve used myself. Maybe she learned it from me.

“What is it?” I ask, dropping my pen on the desk and sitting up, all business.

What a fucking joke.

“Was it that bad?” she asks, her face soft with pity.

“It’s fine.”

“It was that bad,” says Finn.

“I got here just as he left,” says Natalie. They let themselves into the office; so much for getting right back to work. I really ought to be more concerned about that, especially considering Dad’s got a point. When this gets out, I’ll never get another client.

I’ve got some savings built up, but what the fuck am I going to do with myself when this all goes to hell? I’ve spent my entire adult life on the law.

“What did he say to you?” I ask Finn, curious despite my one-minute-old resolution to keep the office business only.

Finn shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

My eyes narrow.

“Sorry, boss,” he says, the hint of a grin on his lips. “You won’t win this one.”

“I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“It’s not your fault, Nic.”

“What happened, anyway?” asks Natalie.

The memory of just what my dad walked in on makes my neck warm.

Finn flushes. “Uh—” He doesn’t get any farther.

“You’re no help,” I say, glaring at him. “We were on the couch.”

Both of them glance at the offending furniture. I’m going to have to burn the damn thing now. Except I can’t.

Natalie’s lips begin to curl up. “On the couch doing what?”

“Dry humping like teenagers, hoping you’d come back and catch us in the act.” Finn’s delivery is matter-of-fact, finding his words at last.

Natalie bursts out laughing.

“Your comedic skills are wasted on gig work,” I say blandly. He shrugs, smirking. I want to kiss that smirk off his face, to drag them both back to the couch and finish what we started.

No more of that. Enough.

“I have to get back to work,” I say. It sounds like I mean it this time.

Their humor dies off. Natalie nods. Finn’s jaw tightens, but he follows her out of the room.

Hours later, I’ve managed to get done what I had to, but my office door stays closed. I’m standing by the window, staring at nothing, when Natalie knocks softly.

“Come in.”

“Here are the last of the Baker file copies,” she says, setting them on my desk.

“Thank you.”

“It’s after five,” she says after a pause.

“I’ve still got some things to take care of,” I say. It’s even true. That’s the nature of self-employment—there’s always more to do. “You go on ahead. Finn will escort you home tonight.”

She doesn’t move. I finally turn to look at her.

She’s so beautiful, it hurts my heart just to look at her. I can’t bear the confusion and pain in her eyes.

I turn back to the window.

“We’re supposed to have dinner tonight,” she reminds me. Like I could forget.

“Maybe another night.”

“We’re not leaving without you, boss man.” Finn appears right behind her.

“I said, not tonight.”

“And I said, we’re not letting you get away with that.”

I turn back to them. His expression is mulish. Natalie nods when I glance her way.

“Your old man is a piece of work,” says Finn. “We knew that. No new information here. But he doesn’t get to dictate your life.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” I say coldly. It’s not a question. Finn, for once, doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Yes,” says Natalie, coming to stand next to me and laying a hand on my arm. “But we know you’re not the kind of man who lets others make decisions for him.”

“You know that.” It’s more question than statement. Well aware I’m being manipulated, I’m long past the part where I care.

Natalie nods again, all big eyes and full lips, looking up at me through her eyelashes, like she doesn’t know she’s half of my heart walking around in a soft silk blouse.

“I guess the real question is, do you?”