Chapter 10
ten
. . .
Between years climbing his way to the top of the financial world at an early age and what felt like an eon trapped in Matthew’s clutches, Desmond had grown used to bottling up his emotions or dismissing them as frivolous.
As he stared at his phone and the text conversation he’d just completed with Javier, however, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face or banish the cozy ball of happiness that filled his chest. And that burned hotter as it sunk lower in his body to parts of him that had spent the last few weekends appreciating everything that a truly skilled and attentive lover could give him.
Javier was a magician in bed. Desmond had always liked sex as much as the next guy, until it had become more of an exercise in tolerance with Matthew.
But with Javier, it was as if the physical aspect of their relationship had been taken to an entirely new level.
He’d always been unconsciously vers, fulfilling whatever role his partner wanted from him and finding something to like about it.
But with Javier, he blissfully and unapologetically bottomed and adored every borderline soft dom thing his lover wanted from him.
Right there at his desk, he heaved a ridiculous, sentimental sigh as he set his phone aside and tried to focus on his computer screen while adjusting the way he sat in anticipation of everything in store for his bum that night.
Not even the whisper in the back of his head that reminded him he was a partner in a prestigious financial firm and it was unbecoming of him to be daydreaming about having his guts rearranged later could wipe the smile from his lips.
Marcus knocking on his open door and stepping into his office absolutely wiped the smile from his face and the so-called spring from his step, however.
“Desmond, do you have a minute?” Marcus asked in his deep, sonorous voice.
Desmond clenched the very part he’d been guiltily focused on and sat straighter, face flushing with heat. “Er, yes,” he said, then cleared his throat and eyed his phone, like he could send a scolding look to Javier through it for distracting him. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything is more than alright,” Marcus said, breaking into a smile and moving with leonine grace to grab one of the chairs at the side of the room and pulling it close to Desmond’s desk. “For you, at least.”
“I’m sorry?” Des shifted away from his computer and leaned back in his chair for what promised to be a casual conversation.
At least, until he noticed he was half hard from his previous musings.
He jerked forward and opted to lean his arms on his desk, keeping everything that needed to be hidden out of view until the flag could be lowered.
Marcus laughed. “A little birdie told me that you’re on the short list for this year’s Peabody Honors. For the Lundy Prize, even.”
Desmond blinked, his face burning even hotter. “I’m sorry?” he repeated, then shook his head when he realized he must have sounded like a deranged parrot. “I mean, I hadn’t heard anything about the Peabody Honors.”
The Peabody Honors was a fairly new organization that had been concocted for London’s financial sector.
They handed out prizes that honored integrity and altruism in their industry.
The Lundy Prize was their top honor and came with a generous cash allowance.
There had only been a handful handed out so far, but they’d all gone to some of the greatest philanthropists and champions of fair dealing in the financial world.
“Harry Pickering himself put your name forward,” Marcus said, leaning comfortably back in his chair in a casual pose. “He’s been impressed with your client interactions over this past year and has high hopes for the Hongyuan Nanjing deal we’ve been working on.”
Desmond was flattered, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn’t deserve the honor. “You’ve been working on that deal as intensely as I have,” he said.
“Of course,” Marcus said good-naturedly. “But you’re the one taking the lead and giving Goulding McTavish a run for their money.”
“I’m doing what I can.”
Desmond picked at a non-existent spot on his desktop to avoid Marcus’s gaze.
Yes, they were on the verge of the important contract going to them instead of their biggest competitor, but whatever excitement he’d felt when he and Marcus originally teamed up for the deal had decreased exponentially as negotiations wore on.
He would never dare admit to anyone that he didn’t really care anymore.
And every day Desmond ventured anywhere close to Goulding McTavish, he lived in mortal fear of running into Angus again.
If anyone so much as breathed a whiff of what had gone on between him and Angus and Matthew, or of the stock tips Angus had wheedled out of him, not only would no one dare to consider him for an ethics award, he’d likely be fired. Possibly jailed.
“If you ask me,” Marcus continued with a sly grin, “Pickering put you forward for the award because you were the one who blew the whistle on Matthew Evers.”
Had Desmond thought his collar couldn’t feel any tighter? He’d been wrong.
“Matthew dug his own grave by falsifying account data and skimming off the top,” he said, back prickling with anxiety as he tried to play it cool and shrug the whole thing off.
“Yes, well, as soon as Pickering Jones’s lawsuit against him is final, Evers will wish he was in the grave,” Marcus said with a smirk. “Pickering is going to bankrupt him and make certain no one in this city will ever hire him again.”
Well, that explained why Matthew was so bound and determined to keep himself supplied with Desmond’s money.
“To be honest, I would prefer it if Harry would settle that case and be done with Evers forever,” he said, his face still hot as an oven. “The man is a troublemaker, and dragging this out is only courting disaster.”
Marcus huffed. “You would know.”
As discreet as Desmond had tried to be at the beginning of his and Matthew’s relationship, everyone in the office knew they’d been together. It had been a mild point of contention at first, but over the years, the surprise and shock of the whole thing had died down.
Until Matthew had been caught knee deep in illegal activity. Marcus might not have been just guessing when he said their senior partner had been impressed with the way he’d helped uncover his ex’s wrongdoings. At the time, he’d been considered a hero for turning in his own partner.
Even now, after telling Matthew off and blocking him, Desmond didn’t feel like much of a hero.
He still felt the specter of all his own sins about to dump on him the second Matthew thought it would be useful to use the information.
His enthusiasm for the financial world might have been waning with each new day, but he still cared enough to not want to let his colleagues down with the truth of his sins.
“Are you seeing anyone else these days?” Marcus asked, pulling Desmond out of his spiraling thoughts.
Desmond sucked in a breath and sat straighter. It wasn’t usual for his colleagues to ask about his dating life, but Marcus had been steadily becoming more of a friend as they worked on the Hongyuan Nanjing deal together.
“Sorry if that’s too personal,” Marcus quickly followed, holding his hands up.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Desmond said, squirming in his chair. “I’m, um….”
It wasn’t that he was afraid of telling his colleague he was dating a man. Everyone knew he was gay, and their office was indifferent to people’s preferences. They’d even instituted unisex bathrooms when the entire trans debate reared its ugly head.
What truly gave Desmond pause was his own questions about whether he and Javier were dating. Did it count if it was only weekends? He wanted it to count. And if he was honest, he wanted it to be more than weekends.
At least, he thought he did. There was that little part of him that feared what might happen when he and Javier stopped pretending they were a happy, fantasy couple with no problems between them.
He didn’t think he could bear the moment Javier discovered he wasn’t the prize everyone seemed to think he was, that he had enough skeletons in his closet to spark a police investigation.
“It’s early days,” he finally answered Marcus with a bashful grin.
“Oh, I see.” Marcus smiled widely. “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe you and your new friend would want to come out to supper with me and Angela one of these nights.”
Desmond’s insides tried to go in half a dozen different directions at once.
Having supper with a colleague and his wife would be lovely.
He was certain Javier would be a charming dinner partner, unlike Matthew.
If they were a real, full-time couple, they could do couple things. They could be normal.
Desmond could hardly remember what normal felt like.
“I’ll ask him and see what he says,” he answered Marcus, knowing full well his answer was cagey as hell.
“Good,” Marcus said, then slapped the arm of his chair and pushed himself to stand. “Now, back to work for us, am I right? Hongyuan Nanjing isn’t going to sign the partnership deal unless we work for it.”
“You’re right about that,” Desmond said, relieved the oddly intense conversation was almost over.
“Goulding McTavish isn’t going to know what hit them,” Marcus fired at him with a wink as he left the office.
Desmond blew out a breath as soon as he was gone and sank back in his chair.
If Marcus knew about any part of his connection to Angus McTavish, dinner offers would be rescinded, budding friendships would be crushed, and Harry Pickering would likely go after him as fiercely as he was going after Matthew.