Chapter 6 Enzo #2
“And he knows it’s you, asshat. From what I hear, the whole office knows it’s you. You’re about as subtle as a stripper at a baptism. If you don’t figure your shit out, you can forget about making partner. You’re gonna get fired for harassment.”
Enzo rested his elbow on the bar, then propped his chin on his palm.
When he first left Seven the protein shake, he’d thought of it as a peace offering.
If Seven knew it was Enzo who’d left him that first gift, he hadn’t said so.
But he’d smiled just a little when he’d looked at it.
That small flash of teeth was enough for Enzo to do it again and again.
Enzo was addicted to the tiny smile that would appear for a split second each time Seven found a new gift.
The way he’d glance into Enzo’s office for just a moment.
He lived for those few seconds when he had Seven’s undivided attention.
“Level with me,” he pleaded. “Has he…gone downstairs with anyone?”
While the upstairs looked like any other club uptown, downstairs was what separated Lost Eden from any other club in the state.
The playrooms. Below Enzo’s feet sat twelve fully stocked rooms with anything two—or more—consenting adults might need to satisfy their desires.
There were things so niche even Enzo couldn’t name them, and things so well-loved Vince had a stockroom full of replacements at the ready.
“That’s his business,” Vince said sharply, shutting him down. “If you want to know so badly, be a man and ask him.”
“Yes, ‘cause men are known for their stellar communication skills,” Enzo muttered. After a moment, he asked, “Did he at least say if he liked my presents?”
His brother huffed out a humorless laugh.
“Of course, he likes them. He likes you. He wants you. You’re the one who keeps getting in your own way.
Do you think he would be here, trying so hard to learn about something you like—a subject now tied to a really shitty memory for him—if he didn’t like you? ”
Enzo cut his eyes to his brother. “Are you claiming he came here for me?”
“Yes. He came here for you. The first night, he even took notes.”
Enzo blinked at him stupidly. “Notes?”
“Yep. He brought a tablet. He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
He probably would have recorded me if it hadn’t been so loud.
He isn’t here looking for a dom. He’s here to figure out whether he likes this enough to put up with your…
special interests. If you get your shit together, that is. ”
Enzo shook his head, like his subconscious couldn’t even fathom a world where that scenario was true. Why would Seven do that for him after what Enzo had done to him? After he’d misread the situation so badly?
Seven and the man stood, hugging tightly.
Enzo sat up straighter, hands closing into fists.
But before he could get too upset, the man waved and walked away.
Seven waved back, but didn’t return to his seat.
Instead, he turned towards them and began walking in their direction. Was he coming to talk to him?
Enzo’s heart raced as Seven approached, unsure what it was he planned to say. But Seven wasn’t coming to him. He walked right past him like he wasn’t even there, heading towards the restrooms. Fuck. He was on his feet before he could talk himself out of it, following Seven towards the bathroom.
“This is a new low even for you,” Vince called after him.
Enzo didn’t answer, just gave him the finger over his shoulder.
He had no idea what he’d say to Seven once he got there, but he just wanted to set the record straight.
Whatever that meant. He flung the door open…
and ran right into Seven, who was not, in fact, using the restroom, but standing just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, brow raised expectantly.
“What took you so long?” he asked, his tone as flat as his tight-lipped expression.
“What?”
Smooth, dumbass.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist following me in here,” he said, his irritation causing a flush to creep up Enzo’s neck.
“You…wanted me to follow you?” he asked, his heart doing a little leap behind his ribs.
Seven scoffed. “I didn’t say I wanted you to follow me in here; I said I knew you would. But since you did, stop staring at me like a creeper every time we happen to be here at the same time.”
“Why? Am I cramping your style?” Enzo asked, voice sullen.
“Because it’s creepy, as previously mentioned.”
Enzo nodded. “Was that guy your…dom?”
Seven’s eyes went wide. “My…” He blew out an exasperated breath. “That’s none of your business.”
“I know,” Enzo fired back. “I know it’s not. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”
Nobody had ever made him feel this crazy, this childish, this…discombobulated. Not even her.
Seven’s expression softened just a little as he shook his head. “I really don’t get you at all.”
Enzo sighed. “Join the club.”
The door started to open, but Enzo slammed it shut again. “Occupied.”
“There’s more than one stall,” the guy shouted, voice muffled.
Enzo rolled his eyes. “Use the one downstairs.”
The man slammed something heavy against the door with a shout—probably his palm—cursing him as he walked away.
Enzo turned to give Seven his full attention when the door flung open once more.
Vince.
“You two come with me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
In true brat fashion, Seven tried to argue anyway. “I was just lea—”
“No. You two are both getting on my last fucking nerve,” Vince said. “March.”
He shoved his finger in the general direction of the stairs.
Seven snorted. “You can’t possibly think I’m going downstairs with him.”
Vince rolled his eyes. “As much as I think that would help, no, you’re going upstairs to my office.”
“I don’t want to—” Seven tried again.
“I don’t care,” Vince snapped. “My club. My rules.”
“Your rules allow for kidnapping?” Seven snarked.
“Yes. Section three, addendum two: Any parties engaged in juvenile conduct shall be remanded to my office for a mandatory conflict resolution feelings talk, per the bylaws of Me, Myself, and My Fucking Club. Now, go.”
Seven looked at Enzo, wide-eyed. “Does it really say that?”
Enzo snorted. “Knowing my brother, probably, yeah.”
“Aren’t you a member?” Seven shot back, marching up the stairs.
“Do you read every contract you sign?” Enzo spit back.
Seven looked at him like he was an idiot. “Yes, you moron. We’re lawyers.”
“I’m a lawyer,” Enzo mumbled. “You’re an intern.”
Vince yanked open the door to his office. “Inside. Now.”
“I don’t have anything to say to him,” Seven said, even as he stepped inside.
“Well, I’m sure he has something to say to you,” Vince countered, giving Enzo a pointed look.
Enzo shook his head. “I don’t—”
“Don’t make me put you two in the get-along shirt,” Vince threatened menacingly.
Enzo gasped. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Seven asked.
Enzo shuddered, remembering the giant t-shirt his mother used to force them to wear together whenever the siblings weren’t getting along. “You don’t want to know.”
“Call me when you’re done behaving like children and I’ll come let you out,” Vince said, closing the door before either of them could argue.
They heard the tell-tale sound of a lock clicking into place.
He’d actually locked them in there. The psychopath.
Enzo looked around the room, attempting to look anywhere but at Seven.
Vince’s office was designed much the same as the club downstairs.
Mostly black and gold with burgundy accents.
But the illusion of opulence was lost with the messy desk piled with paperwork, a laptop, a Tiffany desk lamp, and… a set of fuzzy pink handcuffs?
“So…talk,” Seven said, hugging himself around the middle.
Enzo’s heart squeezed at how guarded he looked. Because of him.
“Have…have you been coming here a lot?” Enzo asked.
Seven shrugged, his voice nonchalant. “More than you.”
“How come?”
“How come, what?” Seven asked, turning away from him to pace.
“How come you’ve been coming here so often?”
“How come you haven’t?” Seven fired back. “Did you find someone stupid enough to sign your contract?”
“What? No. I-I’m not looking for anyone else,” Enzo said.
“Why not? You said it yourself. I lack training. Surely, there’s someone here well behaved enough for you. Someone willing to fuck you on demand for money.”
“Jesus,” Enzo said, holding his hands out. “You’re so harsh when you want to be. That’s not at all what I meant.”
Seven gave him a haughty look. “It’s what you said.”
Was it? Was that how it had sounded to Seven? “I thought you’d forgiven me for that whole contract thing.”
Seven glowered at him. “Did you?”
“Yeah. You kissed me at my mom’s house.”
“You kissed me,” Seven reminded. “I was drunk. I was in a…weakened state.”
He was drunk? He hadn’t seemed drunk. A little…overwhelmed, maybe. But not drunk. Enzo was an asshole, but he never would have kissed him if he’d thought he was too drunk to consent.
Would he?
Fuck. Seven had him questioning his own morals. His own ethics.
“I didn’t know you were drunk,” Enzo murmured. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I’d known. I wasn’t trying to…take advantage of you.”
Seven sighed, his face softening. “I know you weren’t. I wasn’t mad at you.”
It felt a little like an olive branch. “You weren’t?”
“Not about that,” Seven retorted, wandering to the sofa and sitting down.
Enzo followed, glancing at Seven hesitantly until he nodded to the opposite side of the couch. Enzo sat, making sure to keep distance between them.
“Are you still mad at me about the contract?” he finally asked.
Seven shrugged. “I already told you to forget about it.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Enzo said. “You barely talk to me at work.”
“Yet, that hasn’t stopped you from leaving little offerings on my desk every single day.” When Enzo’s face heated up, Seven said, “You know everyone can see you, right?”