Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
MARCUS
NOVEMBER
“Idefinitely should have worn some glitter,” I mutter to myself, then pull my moleskin coat tighter around my shoulders as a gust of cool fall air hits me.
It’s a Friday night, so Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood is teaming with nightlife, and I feel out of place.
This isn’t really my scene.
I had no idea how to dress for an evening at a gay nightclub, but Tristan said I should avoid flannel and cargo shorts.
He thinks I’m uptight and boring, which is honestly a fair assessment.
Until recently, that type of judgment wouldn’t have bothered me, but I’m turning thirty in a few months, and I’ve been feeling anxious and out of place—like something is missing.
I’m about to consider bailing when a hand falls onto my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you actually showed, Marcus!” Tris is wearing short shorts and a see-through hot-pink mesh top with a sparkly choker. His dark hair is slicked on the sides, but soft on top, so his rich curls fall over his forehead in an endearing way.
He looks good.
“Happy birthday,” I say gruffly.
Tris winks. “Thank you.” He steps aside and gestures to the people behind him. “This is Kara, Maddock, and Tim.” He gives me a coy smile. “This is my boss and friend, Marcus.”
“Hello,” I say, feeling awkward.
The first two are dressed similarly to Tristan, all colors and glitter, but Tim is sporting dark jeans and a gray T-shirt, so that makes me feel a little better about my wardrobe choice. I try to smile in a disarming way, but, based on the doubtful looks they exchange, it comes across as forced.
I clear my throat. “Can we go inside? I need a drink, Tris.”
“Sure, big guy.” He chuckles and guides me to the door, where a pretty girl with pink hair checks my ID and waves me in.
The club is loud and chaotic. Lights dance around the space while a sea of bodies bounces to some godawful pop music. It makes my skin crawl.
Tris leans close to me, his lips close to my ear. “Where’s Ash?”
I grimace. “We broke up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
I bark a laugh. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. I’m not. She was too uptight.”
“I’m uptight.”
“Yeah, and we only need one of you.”
I roll my eyes and make a beeline for the bar. “I need a shot of whisky, please.”
The bartender assesses me with a smirk. “You must be new here.”
I smile politely. “What makes you say that?”
“Just a lucky guess.” His eyes rake down my body. “There’s a coat check in the corner if you want to take off a few layers, hun.” He pours some amber liquid into a large glass and slides it toward me. “It can get pretty warm in here.”
I eye the glass. “Did you just make me a double?”
“I thought you could use it.” He winks. “You’re going to be really popular tonight.”
“Thanks.” I look over at Tris and the others, who are watching the whole exchange with amusement. “What?” I ask before I throw back the whisky with a quick swallow. It burns all the way down and instantly heats my limbs.
I can do this.
“Nothing, Marcus,” Tris says before ordering his own drink. “Just glad to see you made it out of your stuffy office.”
“My office is not stuffy. It’s cozy.” The new Brothers’ Beer & Bourbon location is situated on Alaskan Way with a panoramic view of Elliott Bay, and my office is on the top floor with a big window. The walls are a soothing blue and decorated with local artwork and family photos.
Everything has a place and a purpose. It feels safe. Organized. It’s definitely not stuffy.
Tris gives me a deadpan look as the bartender pushes two drinks in his direction. “As soon as my designer friend gets back from Europe, I’m going to make him include your office space in the pub design assessment.”
“That sounds terrible. I like things the way they are.”
Tris places a gentle hand on my shoulder while we wait for his friends’ drinks. “You can’t live like this, honey. You need to loosen up. Most of the staff are afraid of you, grumpy man.”
“They are not.” I eye him, deciding whether he’s serious. “Are they?”
Tris nods. “You’re too serious, Marcus. Let loose and get drunk with me and my friends tonight and see if it helps.” He presses his palms together and gives me a flirty smile. “Since it’s my birthday and all.”
“Stop it,” I grouse.
“Stop what?” he asks innocently.
“Giving me those fuck-me eyes. You know I’m straight. They don’t work on me.”
“Everyone is a little queer, Marcus. Even a burly bear like you.”
“Sure,” I say placatingly. I shrug off my jacket and take it to the coat check, sticking the little red ticket from the attendant in my jeans pocket. I turn and almost run into a man with a shoulder-length blond bob reminiscent of He-Man. His grin drips sex, a dimple popping in his left cheek.
I blink.
“You’re kind of rustic.” His finger traces over one of my shoulders. “Like the Brawny Man.”
My throat feels dry. I’ve been flirted with before, sure, but no one has ever been this forward. “I, uhhh—”
Tris pushes up next to me and carefully removes He-Man’s hand. “Sorry, this one’s taken.”
“Oh, my bad,” the guy replies, stepping back.
“Fuck. Thank you,” I breathe when Tris guides me in the other direction and hands me another drink. “What’s this?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, grinning.
I rub my short beard. “Am I rustic?” But then I also wonder why I care about what some strange dude thinks.
Tris purses his lips as we rejoin the others. “Yeah, honey, but that’s not a bad thing. Now follow me. My friend got us into the VIP lounge upstairs.”
We climb the steps to a balcony suite overlooking the chaos below. On the way, we pass dark hallways and private booths, and my mind starts to spin with curiosity.
What would I find if I pulled back one of those curtains?
Dancers circle poles throughout the space.
Dressed in sparkly shorts and skimpy tops, they look like disco elves with their accentuated cheekbones, intricately styled hair, and glitter dusting every inch of their exposed skin.
Watching them move is the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen.
I flush when I feel my dick twitch against my pants.
They’re all so pretty.
Tris nudges my shoulder, and I glance over at him. His green eyes assess me, sparkling in the ambient light. “Your mouth is open.” He presses his fingers to my chin.
Still staring, I follow Tris as he leads us to a large booth, then take a swig of my drink. It’s fruity and delicious, nothing like what I would order for myself. I finish it with another gulp.
Tris gives me a critical look. “For such a big guy, you’re kind of a lightweight.”
I frown. “I’m not drunk. Yet.”
But that changes quickly.
I don’t normally drink this much, especially since I’ve been working in Seattle.
But tonight feels different. This club is debaucherous, but not in a bad way.
Everyone is just. . .free. Free to dance.
To laugh. To revel in each other. Free to be themselves.
They all seem so empowered. It’s like I’m seeing the world in Technicolor, and in the back of my head, I wonder if I’ve been given something other than alcohol.
But Tris has been ordering drinks for me, and I trust him.
I fiddle with my straw, stirring the pink liquid absently.
“You doing okay?” Tris asks, leaning close.
I nod, but his cologne hits me hard, the smell of vanilla and strawberries overwhelming in a weirdly good way. My body flushes hot. I need to get out more. And get laid while I’m at it.
I swallow and try to find something safe to talk about. “Tell me more about our new designer.”
Tris raises an eyebrow. “You want to talk about work? Shocking.”
“Just humor me,” I grumble.
“He’s really cute,” he offers.
“Something relevant, Tristan.”
“Okay, okay.” Tris taps his chin like he’s thinking. “He’s extremely talented. On the cusp of greatness, really.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Tris smiles. “He’s trying to start his own design firm, and he needs some high-profile clients to get there. Not just the income, but the reputation. You’ve seen my apartment.”
I recall Tristan’s apartment, which is colorful and yet sleek and modern, with a disarming charm that encompasses Tris’s eccentric taste. “There are a lot of. . .goats.”
“Well, of course there are.” Tris huffs a laugh. “Goats are both wise and lovable, just like me, so it stands to reason that they should be the centerpiece of my life.” Tristan smiles. “And while you may not understand my affinity for goats, did you find my place off-putting?”
I narrow my eyes. “No, I suppose not. It was very you, and it somehow worked.“
Tris nods enthusiastically, his curls flopping over his eyebrows. “Exactly. Jeremy has a unique style that’s cozy chic, and he tailors it to his clients beautifully.”
“We’ll see, I guess.” I frown. “Are we a high-profile client?”
“You’re a Conner, Marcus. It’s a well-known name in the business sphere.”
I fight the urge to flinch. While Tris isn’t wrong, I wish I had any other last name. Just thinking about my father and the legacy I’m doomed to inherit makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Thankfully, Kara interrupts us and the chat changes gears. She and Maddock live together and are not fans of their third roommate, which is probably a more interesting conversation than I’m having with Tim, who has started talking my ear off about his mountain biking club.
I just finish another sweet concoction and feel decidedly inebriated.
My gaze wanders around the room, the sights blurring and twisting.
And that’s when the sea of swaying bodies parts and the world grinds to a halt.
A pair of bright eyes catches mine, and I zero in on tousled silver hair, tinged pink and purple from the erratic club lights.
Peter Parker.
He smiles, the corners of his lips turning up slightly, and I find myself mirroring him.