14. SIMON
SIMON
A t times like this I question if I really do love my job.
Last night, Dima and Lev sent me on a mission to flirt and befriend Callie, the daughter of that dodgy cop, Tim, who Ivan and Tyler are having issues with, at her university.
It was fucking hell being surrounded by those dumb ass students.
It's exhausting pretending to be happy and social. To pretend I was interested in her, just so I could get some footage of us together. Enough to blackmail Tim with. And if that wasn’t enough to keep me in a bad mood, I then had to do fucking clean up of the cop’s informant who the guys went to town on in the holding pen.
Add in the fact that Tyler’s brother's husband, Noah, got involved. The king of creepy psychopaths, I was down there a long time. Noah is another level but I can’t be too mad about it.
He doesn’t like to talk and that's perfect for me. However, Ivan didn’t get the hint and is following the guy around like he’s a celebrity.
All of that drama is enough to put the chillest guy into therapy, but the universe made other plans for me when Carlos decided to throw a bomb on me, telling me I will be accompanying him to Brazil.
There are so many layers to that request, I don’t know where to start first. The first question is why are we going there?
What is expected from me? And will I make it home?
I don’t know how I’ll survive Carlos for how ever many days and nights we are staying there.
I can hardly complain to Dima and Lev, as their patience with me is running out, plus I’m at risk of outting myself with how much I moan about the guy to everyone.
If I’m honest with myself, the secret looks from all the guys and comments makes me nervous that they already know.
But I’m doing what I do best on that topic, ignore the problem so it doesn’t exist. Simple.
It's just so hard to control myself and my mouth when Carlos is in the vicinity.
Anyway, my obsessing is now pissing me off. It's two days later after speaking to Carlos, and like a teenager I keep checking my phone, waiting for him to text. Why hasn’t he reached out again? Why do I fucking care?
“A watched phone never rings,” Tyler says to me across the table at Desire.
He has accompanied Ivan today because he’s jealous.
Jealous of the possibility that his gay lover, Ivan, will suddenly run off with one of the stripper girls.
It's laughable, but I’ll never admit it's cute, either. The panic on his face watching every girl here, waiting for them to steal his man, while all the time, Ivan is just watching him. He really is clueless when it comes to Ivan. I’m sure Ivan would have him on a leash if he could. He’s that besotted with the guy.
I walk away to the bar to chat with Bonnie as I need to get away from the two love birds, when I see the entrance doors open.
The designer clothes, sexy walk and smug face make an appearance.
Carlos. He doesn’t see me as he walks over to Ivan and Tyler.
What the hell is he doing here? My feet are moving before I think, which is becoming a common theme in my reactions to the dickface. Zero control.
“What the hell are you doing here again? Are there no other strip joints for you to visit?” I say before thinking. Ignoring the looks from Ivan and Tyler.
“I like it here. The women are very beautiful,” Carlos says nonchalantly as I have to bite the inside of my mouth with jealousy.
“That’s news to me, I thought you liked men. You’ve fucked nearly all of them within a ten mile radius,” I say in the bitchiest tone that I didn’t know I possessed. What the fuck am I saying? Why am I acting like this in front of the guys? Can someone shut my damn mouth?
Carlos sits back and folds his arms, assessing me.
“Why does it bother you who I fuck or how many?”
I swear I growl like a dog. Calm the fuck down, Si.
“I don’t give a fuck who you screw.” Wow, that sounds so convincing, Si.
“I think you do,” Carlos says before standing and walking over to me.
Oh no, no. Why can’t I just contain these urges to spit at the guy?
What is he doing? I freeze, aware that we have the full attention of Ivan and Tyler, and probably a few of the dancers, but I can’t look away from Carlos.
It's like I'm outside of my body watching this happen to someone else as Carlos runs his index finger along my jaw. I can’t move.
“I think you care very much, little lion,” he says in a low, commanding, sexy voice. I panic. He touched me in public. I’m such a coward.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me.”
“Careful, Simon. You already owe me one favor, push me again and I’ll have Dima agree to let me have you at my beck and call for a week.”
“Drop dead, Carlos. I’d rather have my right hand cut off than be near you,” I say as I get in his face. His smell surrounds me, bringing back memories of that night together. I hate him for it.
The smile on his face and the softness and humor in his eyes, tells me he knows I’m lying. Panicking, I storm off to the back office and can hear his laughter while I retreat.