Chapter 20 #2
To be honest, it was a welcome break from Locke’s immediate return to being dismissive. While he wasn’t rude to me necessarily, he acted like I was simply a member of the house staff. Nothing important. No one of note.
Since I’d never thought of this adventure as an actual job, having to act like I didn’t have a personal relationship with Locke was a bitch.
When Zuri and I returned from town, I avoided Locke like the plague to keep from having to face the roiling stew of mixed emotions the situation was provoking. Last night had been fun, and pretending it had never happened was something I wasn’t doing a good job of.
Dinner had been a casual cocktails-and-canapés affair on the terrace for the people who’d already arrived, and I’d made a point to stand on the periphery and handle any issues that arose without interacting socially with people so above my perceived station.
It wasn’t until we returned to the suite after dinner that I could no longer avoid him.
“I smell like Sorensen’s cigarillo smoke. Come shower with me,” he said as he hurried past me through the suite, pulling off his shirt and unbuckling his belt. The view of his bare back over his pants was a dirty trick.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been in pain since you left me with blue balls in the closet earlier. Let’s go.”
I followed him into his bedroom and bathroom but didn’t pull off my clothes. Instead, I folded my arms in front of my chest and tried to be serious. It was difficult when he continued to reveal more tempting body parts.
“I’ve hardly seen you all day.” And not even a single word of praise for how well-behaved I was.
He didn’t bother to look up, only reached for the bodywash and used it to stroke his already hard cock. “Why are you acting like my girlfriend right now? Get in here and touch me.”
I closed my eyes and cursed myself. We’d moved from the happy host portion of my duties to secret lovers. Exactly what I’d signed on for.
And god help me, I always wanted to get naked with Locke Maris, regardless of how much the other aspects of our arrangement sucked.
If he wanted me to get him off, I would.
As quickly and aggressively as possible.
I had to admit it was my favorite trick. I’d already used it on him once before, but maybe it bore repeating.
You want to come? I’ll make you come in three seconds.
I pulled off my clothes and dropped them in a pile by the door before moving into the shower and lowering to my knees. No towel this time. I wasn’t going to be here long enough to need it.
Thankfully, he’d already rinsed off his bodywash. All that was left on his cock was the faint taste of soap and the overwhelming scent of sandalwood and vetiver. I couldn’t even detect a morsel of his own scent, which was probably for the best.
Clinical. Quick. Professional.
I sucked his cock like a goddamned pro, massaging his nuts and taint and even ghosting a fingertip over his hole. Sure enough, the man came in record time, sucking in a gasp so quickly he nearly choked on shower water.
I wiped my mouth and stood up.
“Okay?” I asked with a forced smile. Unfortunately, my neat trick had resulted in my own blue balls.
I’d gone and spit into the fucking wind, just like Beau had warned me about.
Locke looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head and reached for the bodywash again. “I have a video conference in thirty minutes.”
I nodded and murmured something about getting out of his hair, but as I moved out of the shower and gathered my things, I could see him watching me in the mirror.
“Jett.”
I met his eye in the mirror but didn’t say anything.
“Thank you.”
My stomach plummeted. Whatever I’d been expecting, whatever I’d been hoping for, that wasn’t it.
Thank you? Fuck that.
I gave him a quick nod, then walked to my room and closed the door. My boner was gone, and my resentment returned to a healthy boil.
How could the man blow so hot and cold?
I could deal with bossy asshole Locke. I might not like it, but I was more than capable.
I’d spent most of these last few years playing roles that were a lot more dangerous and uncomfortable than being Locke’s assistant.
And at least this job came with the bonus of getting face time with the man’s dick on the regular.
But he wasn’t just a bossy asshole. And I never knew, from one moment to the next, which Locke I was going to get.
The caretaker who’d insisted on rescuing me in Amsterdam?
The charming, witty, open man who’d told me stories and taught me Paxis last night?
The generous lover who’d pulled me into a closet and sucked my cock this morning?
Or the cold, ruthless businessman who treated the people in his life like chess pieces and didn’t seem to care when their feelings were sacrificed for the good of the game?
Every time I rebuilt my defenses, Locke would knock them down again.
After waiting until I could hear Locke on the call, I threw on running clothes and shoes, grabbed my earbuds, and went downstairs to the fitness center, which had the same amazing view of the pool deck and water beyond.
After hopping on a treadmill facing the open doors to the view, I pumped up my music and began running off my frustration.
About twenty minutes into my run, an attractive man about my age entered the room dressed in similar workout clothes. I hadn’t seen him before and couldn’t place him from the names on the list. His eyes widened when he saw me, and then he flashed a friendly grin.
“Mind if I join you?”
I pulled out an earbud and tilted my head at the room full of high-end equipment. “Help yourself.”
Maybe I should have introduced myself as the event host and given him the rah-rah to make him feel welcome, but I wasn’t feeling it.
Instead of choosing any of the equipment spread around the room, he chose the treadmill right next to mine and began a warm-up walk.
“Santiago Alvarado,” he said with a genuine smile. “Call me Santi.”
It took all of my training and self-control to keep from reacting to the shocking introduction.
“Jethro Davis,” I said, nodding rather than risk shaking hands with the son of one of the world’s most notorious drug lords.
While the name Esteban Alvarado had been on the guest list, never in a million years would I have expected it to be this Esteban Alvarado.
Notorious drug lord Esteban Alvarado. The one who, along with his son Santiago, was constantly under suspicion for multiple criminal activities around the world related to the movement of drugs and money.
Suspicion by my employer, specifically.
What the actual fuck are the Alvarados doing at a chess tournament?
“Haven’t seen you at one of these things before,” he said with a friendly grin.
“I work for Mr. Maris.”
“Ah,” he said, lifting his chin. His bronze skin was perfectly smooth, with inky-black eyelashes that must have made his mother proud. His eyebrows were clearly shaped by someone, and his haircut had to have cost several hundred dollars.
“What about you? Do you play, or are you here with one of the players?” I asked with what I hoped was naive politeness.
He grinned. “I’m here with my old man. He plays. Wants me to learn alongside him, but we’ll see. The game’s boring as fuck if you want to know the truth.”
I shrugged. “At least the weather is nice,” I said, trying to remain boring and plain as I stopped my run and prepared to leave the stressful situation. Maybe this was why Locke didn’t want me talking to anyone. He was friends with fucking murderers.
Santi stopped his own treadmill and stepped off.
“You want to go for a swim with me, chico lindo?” he asked in a sultry voice, white teeth flashing in a player’s grin.
Not gonna lie, after not being able to experience my own release in the shower, there was a part of me that wanted to let this man pull it out of me.
The trained agent in me was tempted to flirt with him, too. To lure him in to take advantage of whatever he might want to share with an intimate partner.
But there was no way I could do that while I was here with Locke. Not only was I not on the clock—well, not on ESP’s clock anyway—but I also wasn’t a jackass.
It was in Locke’s best interest for me to be solidly straight as far as everyone here was concerned. More than that, I was loyal to a fault, whether Locke deserved it or not.
“I’m afraid I have an early morning tomorrow,” I said. “Good night, Mr. Alvarado.”
“Santi. Please,” he said, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder. “And the pleasure is mine, Jethro.”
As I made my way back to my room, I wondered if Santi and Eduardo Alvarado’s presence here was enough reason for me to come clean to my boss at ESP.
When I entered the suite, Locke was still on a call, discussing anti-piracy naval escorts through the Gulf of Aden. He sounded smart and commanding, determined and casually in control. The tone of his voice was enough to make my dick hard, which was embarrassing as fuck.
Since he didn’t even acknowledge my presence, I slunk to my own room and jacked off in the shower to the memory of Locke Maris barking at someone to “get Defense on the line again.”
Then I fell asleep.
Alone.
The following morning came way too soon, considering how fucking uncomfortable I’d been sleeping in my own room for the first time since arriving. After dressing in an outfit from my new “assistant” wardrobe, I dutifully followed Locke to breakfast.
As soon as we entered the room, he was surrounded by people greeting him, including a few newcomers who must have arrived late.
“Ah, Locke. Well met. Very sorry about your grandfather’s passing,” Ted Harlan said, clapping him on the back. “But I’m sure you’ll do well at the helm of Maris in his place.”
Locke nodded and murmured a few words of acknowledgment, while the third person in line to the British throne gestured for him to take the seat next to his.
So, it really was that Ted Harlan.