6. Sebastian Courtland
6
SEBASTIAN COURTLAND
Yesterday was an amazing day!
Books and a late lunch at a great restaurant. By the time we’d walked back to the car, Byron had been laughing and even cracking jokes. I hadn’t wanted it to end, but I’d known better than to press my luck. I’d dropped him off at his apartment after lunch.
So, naturally, I was on his doorstep early Sunday morning with a bag of his favorite bagels and cream cheese.
“What are you doing here?” Byron demanded as soon as he opened the door. Today, he wore a pair of old gray sweat pants that hung so deliciously low on his hips and a baggy T-shirt from the local Labor Day fireworks celebration, except the T-shirt was about eight years old and had a hole at the shoulder seam. But the best part—he was wearing glasses. Thin, gold wire-rimmed glasses that made his eyes appear even bigger. He never wore them to the office. I’d had no idea he needed them.
“You wear glasses.”
The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I was lucky I had any filter at all when he was looking so relaxed and adorable. The entire picture made me want to pick him up, carry him to the nearest bed, and cuddle him while stripping off all the worn, slouchy clothes.
“I haven’t bothered to put in my contacts yet. Why are you here?”
“I brought bagels and your suit,” I said, shoving both things toward him. I had debated holding on to his suit and giving it to him in the office, but if someone saw me do that, it would raise questions. Even if no one saw me, it was likely to put Byron in a panic, and that wasn’t what I wanted at all.
“Oh.” Byron took the suit and frowned at the bag of bagels as he continued to stand in the doorway, blocking my entrance. In fact, he had the door pulled against his body, keeping me from seeing into his apartment. Was there someone with him he didn’t want me to see?
Fuck…was he seeing someone?
As the thought dug its claws into my brain, I could hardly breathe. He’d never said whether he was dating someone. I’d always assumed he was single based on the ridiculous number of hours he spent at the office. But I could be so fucking wrong.
“Did I stop by at a bad time? Do you have company?”
“Company?” Lines of confusion streaked across his forehead, and his lips dipped into a deep frown, as if the idea of someone being there was utterly foreign to him. “No. No one is here.”
“So, you just don’t want me to see your place.” I may have added an exaggerated pout in my voice, and Byron definitely heard it because he gave me the “You’ve gotta be shitting me” look. I had been on the receiving end of that glare long before he’d agreed to be friends with me.
But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see his apartment. I was also worried about him. This was a terrible neighborhood, and the exterior of this building didn’t make it appear to be a rare haven within the dangerous cesspool. It was one of the many things that had been on my mind since we’d parted ways on Saturday.
“There’s been a lot of car thefts and break-ins recently. It’s not a good idea to park your car here.”
“Carl drove me.”
Byron rolled his eyes and sighed as he stepped back so he could motion for me to enter. “Try to rein in your enthusiasm. My place isn’t as nice as yours.”
I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t expect his apartment to be some ritzy palace, but the words died on my tongue as I stepped inside. It was a shoebox of a studio apartment. The kitchen ran along one wall, and it comprised a two-burner stove, a sink, and a mini fridge. He had a futon that was likely his bed and sofa, a folding camping chair, and an overturned cardboard box that served as a table. The only nice things in the entire room were his laptop, which was supplied by the company, and the closet full of suits.
I thought I’d been paying Byron well. I couldn’t think of the exact number off the top of my head, but I knew it was six figures. Why was he living so poorly? Did he feel like he had to spend all his money on suits for work? Maybe I needed to include an extra stipend in his annual paycheck for suits, ties, and shoes.
“Does your boss not give you raises to keep up with the rising cost of living?” I tried to make it sound like a joke, but worry was gnawing deep at my gut. Had I failed him and my other employees this badly?
Byron growled as he walked past me to hang the suit in the closet. “He does.”
When he strode past me, going in the opposite direction, he snagged the bag of bagels from my hand and closed the door. “But it’s like I explained yesterday, healthcare in America is expensive. My paycheck goes to pay for my brother’s medical care. I also support my mother.” That last part was added in such a growly, angry tone that I stuck a big red flag in the topic of Byron’s mother.
Do not ask about his mother! Do not poke.
I watched as Byron put the bag of bagels on the counter, then grabbed a cutting board to lie across the sink, expanding his counter space. He pulled out the small tubs of cream cheese and the plastic knives they’d tossed inside.
“Are you going to have one too?” he inquired.
“Well, I think I will stay for breakfast, since you asked so nicely.”
Byron snagged one of the plastic knives and pointed the tip at me. “Fine. But no more questions about my apartment or money.”
“Of course. Did you start reading your book yet?” I inquired to prove that I’d forgotten about his living situation.
I hadn’t. Not in the slightest, but poking at Byron’s tender spots would not soften him toward me.
“No, not yet. I slept and caught up on emails last night. You?”
“Finished one. Trying to decide what to read next,” I replied, as I selected a cinnamon swirl bagel. Byron peered into the bag before turning his sharp gaze on me, the anger on his face replaced by a look of wonder and surprise. “You got all my favorites. How did you even know?”
“What? It’s not weird that I noticed which are your favorites. You’ve been eating bagels with me for three years. I bet you know my favorites.”
“Everything bagel if you don’t have early morning meetings and can brush your teeth. Cinnamon swirl is your second favorite,” Byron answered. “Yes, but I order your food most days. I’m supposed to know.”
“You like the raisin cinnamon swirl, but your favorite is the chocolate chip paired with the strawberry cream cheese. You also like the orange-cranberry one, but I think you tend to forget it exists because you can only get it at the store several blocks from the office.”
“I…” Byron looked away from me, but I could still see the blush staining his cheekbone as he focused on spreading strawberry cream cheese on his chocolate chip bagel. “You’re crazy,” he grumbled.
I smirked as I fixed my bagel. When we were both done, Byron snagged two bottles of water from his fridge, and we carried our breakfast to his living room. He dropped onto his futon with the lumpy black cushion, and I sat in the camping chair that creaked under my weight.
“So…I was thinking…” I began after we’d eaten in silence for a couple of minutes.
“This scares me,” Byron muttered between bites, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“You should have dinner with me…as a date.”
Byron sucked in a breath and started coughing as he choked on the chunk of bread in his throat. I dropped my bagel on the box table and snatched up his bottle of water. Wonderful. Just wonderful . I’d asked him out on a date and killed him. I cracked the plastic seal and unscrewed the lid. As soon as it was opened, I handed it over and pounded him on the back.
Within a minute, the coughing lessened enough for him to take a drink and drag in a few ragged gasps of air. I’d traded thumping for rubbing. To help him. It was totally to help him and had nothing to do with me wanting to touch him.
“Are you crazy?” Byron demanded in a rough voice when he could speak. “Of course I’m not going to date you. You’re my boss. It’s expressly forbidden in the employee handbook. If anyone found out, I’d lose my job .”
Okay. That was the answer I’d expected. I was prepared for this.
“Sure, but what if I wasn’t your boss?”
“Huh?”
I leaned forward, my forearms resting on my knees. “What if I was some guy who’d walked up to you at Chester’s yesterday and flirted with you? Would you join me for coffee?”
Byron glared for a second before shaking his head and chuckling. “You’re crazy. Nobody does that.”
“I would have. What would you have said if I weren’t your boss?”
I’d expected him to keep his face lowered in embarrassment, but that little minx looked me straight in the face with a smirk tilting one corner of his mouth higher. “I don’t know. Depends on how cheesy the flirting was.”
“Top. Notch. You’re worthy of only my Grade-A, best flirting.”
Byron looked at me for a heartbeat, then broke our stare to make a soft noise like a giggle. “I probably would have agreed.” His wide eyes jumped up to my face. “To coffee. Just coffee. But this is all nonsense, because you are my boss, and dating isn’t permitted. The risk is too big.”
Oh, that last sentence. Did he even know how dangerous that sentence was?
“In our world, risks are taken every day if there is a big enough potential reward to help mitigate those risks.”
“It’s not only about the risk-reward ratio. You have to take into account the person considering the particular move. For instance, you’re an aggressive risk-taker. You’ll take bigger risks—not because of the rewards, but because you have a larger protective cushion than most people.”
I grinned at Byron, resting my chin on my hand. Was it wrong that I got so turned-on by the man’s big analytical brain? “Go ahead. Say it. I’m rich.”
Byron didn’t say it, but he did roll his eyes at me. “Whereas I am not much of a risk-taker because my protective cushion, should things go disastrously wrong for me, is nonexistent.”
“So, what you’re saying is that the potential reward has to be life-changing.”
“Oh yeah,” he muttered as he picked up his bagel.
There was no planning it better than this. All the pieces were falling into place. This idea had been spinning in my head for most of yesterday and had kept me up well into the night. A door had opened in life to let me have a shot at this amazing man, and there was no way in hell I wasn’t going to take it.
“I have a unique bargain that I’m willing to strike with you.”
“I shouldn’t even be listening to this,” he grumbled before taking a bite of his bagel. Mine lay forgotten on the box table. My stomach was tying and untying itself in knots of excitement and nerves. The solution to getting him to agree to a dating trial had solidified late last night as I’d replayed our conversation at the restaurant in my head. Either he was going to consider it, or he was going to be so insulted that he’d throw me out and start searching for another job.
This time, I waited until he’d finished chewing and had swallowed his bagel. “Go on ten dates with me in exchange for ten years of your brother’s care.”
“What?”
“Ten dates. For each date, I’ll pay for one year of your brother’s care in the new facility that he needs to move to. I’ll pay for all of it. Everything related to your brother Ronnie. Let’s say, two hundred and fifty thousand a year to cover it all.”
Byron’s mouth opened and closed several times as he stared at me. At last, he shut his mouth and shot to his feet. He paced his apartment, but there wasn’t a lot of space for him to move. It didn’t seem to bother him as he shoved both hands into his messy hair.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I haven’t. I like you.”
“Yeah, I’ve kind of picked up on that.” His voice was a little high-pitched and incredulous as he spoke.
“I hope you’ll consider it. This is life-changing money, right? It will give you some much-needed breathing room. The chance to build your cushion. You’re still young. It will give you a chance to enjoy your life.” There was a lot more I wanted to say about how he could take care of himself better, but I didn’t want to piss him off. Besides, I wanted the job of caring for him.
“I know. Trust me, I know what kind of difference it would make. Do you understand how much money we’re talking?”
“Ten dates at an agreed sum of a quarter of a million per date. That comes out to two and a half million,” I answered calmly, but it did not help to calm Byron in the slightest.
“A lot. A fucking lot. No. I-I can’t. Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
Byron stopped his pacing and stared at me as though I’d started speaking a foreign language. “Because I’m not worth that kind of money. Not just for ten dates.”
“You are to me.”
Byron grunted but didn’t look happy about it.
I pushed out of my seat and walked to him. With infinite care, I extracted his fingers from his hair and put my hands on his shoulders. I squeezed the tense muscles there, trying to get him to relax before he gave himself a heart attack.
“Why are you doing this?” he whispered.
“Because I want to get to know you better. That’s why people date.”
“I thought that was why you wanted to be friends.”
My face wrinkled up in a wince. “Yeah, but I want to flirt with you, and I don’t flirt with my friends. Also, hold your hand, if you’ll let me.” I released his shoulders and took a step back. “But this bargain does not include the expectation of any kind of physical intimacy at all. You don’t have to hold my hand or kiss me or anything if you don’t want to.”
That was going to be the hard part. I was drawn to him, ached to touch him in a hundred tiny ways. If I were to go out on dates with him, I’d want to hold his hand, cuddle him, kiss him until our lips were sore. But I’d have to behave.
“What if we go out on two dates and discover that this whole thing was a bad idea? That we’re horrible as a couple.”
My heart skipped around my chest. The fact that he was looking for a hole in my bargain meant he was at least considering it. This was an excellent sign.
“Then I pay for two years of Ronnie’s care.”
“What if, after ten dates, I don’t want to date you ever again? Won’t you think I used you for the money?”
His question only made me smile wider. He sounded so insulted and outraged at just saying the question. “No, I trust you. You have integrity. You would never use someone like that.”
Byron scoffed and paced away from me, but his movements were slower and more thoughtful, as if he were still searching for loopholes and problems. God, I loved his brain. It was the sexiest thing about him after his mouth. And chin. And his dexterous, slender fingers.
Never mind. All of him was sexy, especially his brain.
“If we don’t want to continue dating after the agreed-upon ten dates, we part as friends. No harm, no foul. No one has any hold on the other person. I pay for the ten years.”
“What if…” Byron looked at me from the corner of his eye and I swore the tip of his ear got redder.
“What?” I prodded.
Byron hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. “What if we wanted to keep dating after those ten? If someone were to find out, I’d lose my job. I don’t know about you, but I like my job. I need my job. People finding out we’re dating would ruin my reputation.”
“That would be the risk in the beginning, but if we want to keep dating, I could swap you with another executive assistant.”
He stared at me for a second. “You’re shitting me.”
I shook my head. I reached for his hand to pull him close, but I stopped myself, letting my hand fall to my side. “Declan is constantly in need of help. He scares them all away, but you’ve handled him countless times without a single problem. He’s made offers for you several times. I’ve shut him down because I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you. But…if I were dating you, I’d have you as my boyfriend, and I could sacrifice not having you as my assistant during the day.”
Because I would have him every night and weekend.
That was the part I was smart enough to not say out loud. This time, he didn’t seem to notice as he paced. This had to be overwhelming for him. It was a lot to take in. My idea was insane, but after having a crush on his cute ass for so long, I didn’t want to lose this opportunity to draw him closer. The best part was that not only would I get to date him, but I’d get the chance to help him with his financial problems.
“It’s okay to say yes for the money,” I stated in a low voice.
He swung to face me, a look of horror on his face twisting up his handsome features. “Sebastian! Absolutely not! You’re not some walking piggy bank for other people to take advantage of.”
Yeah, there was no way I was letting this man go.
“Say yes because you’re attracted to me.”
That at least got the horror to disappear. “Whatever. Who isn’t attracted to you?” he muttered as he glared. “I don’t understand why you want this.”
Talking wouldn’t settle this.
I took two strides to close the distance between us. He didn’t have a chance to retreat. I wrapped one arm around his waist while I cupped his cheek with my other hand, tilting his face up toward me. He gasped as my mouth descended onto his in a blistering kiss. It was hard and brutal, all take and no give. Mentally, I prepared myself for him to push me away. Maybe even kick me square in the balls.
For a couple of heartbeats, he was frozen, his body stiff and unyielding. A shudder ran through him like the great cracking of a glacier before it fell into the ocean. In the next instant, he was wrapping his arms behind my neck, pressing even closer as he returned the kiss with the same heat and desperate need. My tongue plunged into his mouth, tangling with his as I tasted his sweetness. He moaned, and I was lost.
I started blindly walking, pushing him back until he hit something with a dull thud . My gaze flicked up enough to see he was pinned against the door. Perfect.
Byron seemed to think so as well, because he leaned on it while tightening his arms, pulling me in even closer. The arm I had on his waist slipped lower and my wandering hand located what felt like the most perfect ass in all the world. I groaned into his mouth as I lifted him higher. Wave after wave of melting heat blazed through me, while all his soft whimpers and growls reduced my self-control to dust.
And those gray sweat pants. Thank God and whoever invented gray sweat pants, because I could now feel his hard cock pressed right into my hip. I wanted to bend Byron over and fuck him so hard. I wanted to fuck him pinned to the door. Then on his hands and knees in the middle of this tiny apartment. Then I wanted him to ride me on his futon. After we covered every inch of this place, I wanted to take him home with me and fuck him in every room of my mansion. Never had I wanted anyone as badly as I wanted him.
Which was why it was so painful to end that damn kiss.
I dragged my mouth away from his, kissing up his jaw to feather one last light kiss to his temple. “That’s why I want this. I want to kiss you and fuck you. But I also want to spend time with you, to date you and discover all the things that make you happy, like strawberries and good books. I want to know if we can be happy together.”
Yes, I’d kind of immediately broken my own rule about not pressuring him with physical intimacy, but I didn’t want him believing the differences between us were insurmountable. There were plenty of things that were so right, starting with the heat I just knew was bubbling under the surface.
“Fuck.” Byron dropped his forehead to rest on my shoulder, his chest heaving as he sucked in great gulps of air. “That’s not fair. There is no blood in my brain right now. I can’t…I can’t think.”
“Think about it for the rest of today, and give me an answer on Monday.”
He nodded against me before lifting his head up. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
I dove in for one last kiss, just in case I never had a chance to do it again. I didn’t know if he had the same thought, but Byron was right there, lighting me up like he wanted to drive me insane. The man had a wicked tongue and knew how to use it. I kept the kiss short because I was nearing my breaking point.
When I stepped away, a tiny sound left him, and I almost cracked. He stared at me with the hungriest eyes I’d ever seen. There was no way he could deny it—the heat and hunger were right there for us to see. The question was whether all the other pieces of who we were could fit together.
With a lopsided grin, I reached down and adjusted myself, trying to find a comfortable position now that he had me painfully hard. Byron snorted and pulled on his shirt as he stepped away from the door. The attempt to hide the erection tenting his sweats failed miserably.
“Tomorrow,” I gritted out as I slipped out the door.
This was going to be the longest twenty-four hours of my life.