Chapter 10 #2
Desmond couldn’t think about it. Not if he wanted to get his work done.
If he was smart, he would have texted Javier back and canceled his plans with his lover so he could double down on the mountain of work he needed to do to earn his ongoing position at Pickering Jones.
If he worked hard enough and made enough money for the company, maybe no one would care about Angus and the insider trading.
He’d almost made up his mind to cancel lunch with Javier when a text came through close to half eleven with the address where his weekend boyfriend was working.
“There are plenty of places to eat nearby,” Javier added.
Desmond smiled at the messages and melted like a New Year’s resolution to go to the gym more. “I’ll see you shortly,” he texted back.
Javier replied with a kissy face emoji.
Desmond giggled like a ten-year-old.
Then he frowned and shook his head, stood, and stepped to the side to grab his coat from the stand in the corner of his office.
It was a relief to get out of the structured and stolid office building and to walk in the spring sunshine on his way to the DLR.
There were times, not often, but a few, when he stepped out of the corporate world and entertained the idea of never going back.
He couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t take back the blurted stock tips that had earned Angus, his competitor and his former, albeit reluctant, playmate an eye-popping number of zeroes for his bank account.
But maybe if he walked away from everything, he could let it all go and move on.
The building in Greenwich where Javier was working was one of dozens of nondescript office buildings constructed after the war.
It was close enough to some of the more touristy parts of the city than Desmond was used to, which meant it was crowded enough to put him on edge, but nothing could have prepared Des for the shock that hit him as soon as he stepped into the building at the address Javier had given him.
“Desmond?”
Des jerked and looked up in time to avoid running headlong into none other than Angus McTavish himself.
What were the odds? What the bloody hell were the odds?
“McTavish,” Desmond mumbled, shifting to the side to let a woman who entered the building just behind him pass and make her way toward the bank of lifts off to one side.
Angus laughed and extended a hand. “There’s no need for formality,” he said. “Angus will do.”
“Yes, er, quite,” Desmond said, his brain exploding as Angus took his hand.
He didn’t just get a handshake. Angus pulled him into a hug.
Desmond remained stiff and brittle the whole time.
The second he accidentally breathed in Angus’s signature cologne and the scent of his skin, a dozen sense memories kicked in, bringing flashes of heat, panting, groans, and Matthew mocking him for being such a prude.
“What brings you to this part of the city on a fine day like this?” Angus asked when he stepped back, looking genuinely pleased to see him. As if the two of them weren’t fierce rivals and former…not lovers exactly, but close.
“I’m, um, meeting a friend for lunch,” he said. It was true, but not nearly true enough.
“It’s not Matthew, is it?” Angus smirked. “I heard the two of you broke it off last year.”
“We did,” Desmond said with strong finality.
Angus nodded slowly, the spark in his eyes hinting that he guessed there was a lot more to the story than an amicable parting of ways.
“I would ask if you’re still working for Pickering Jones, but I already know the answer to that,” Angus went on instead of saying a polite goodbye and leaving Desmond in peace. “You and Marcus Abara are kicking our arses with the Hongyuan Nanjing deal.”
“We’re doing our best in a competitive market,” Desmond mumbled, crawling out of his skin with discomfort at how nonchalant Angus was over everything.
It was almost as if he didn’t remember everything that had happened between the two of them, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
It was almost as if he had let it all go.
“So I was thinking that we should get together for lunch sometime soon,” Angus blew that hope out of the water by lowering his voice, stretching an arm around Desmond’s shoulders, and nudging him over to the side of the room and out of the way of the lunch traffic.
“I’m sure we have a lot to talk about. I’d love your take on some of these up-and-coming stocks everyone keeps talking about. ”
Prickles of dread raced down Desmond’s back, turning his stomach sour. “You know I can’t discuss any of Pickering Jones’s projects with you, Angus,” he said. This was exactly how the pillow talk between him, Angus, and Matthew had turned into sharing insider information the year before.
“Oh, of course, of course,” Angus said, his smile sly and predatory. “But, you know, if you ever do hear of anything coming in the pipeline that might be profitable for both of us, I’d be willing to scratch your back if you’d do me the favor of scratching mine. I know how you like nails.”
If it was possible to have something that was the complete, polar opposite of an erection, Desmond had it now. He’d been pushed into those games with Angus and Matthew, and he’d hated every second of them.
His mind scrambled for a way to get out of the conversation, run screaming from the building, and throw himself into the Thames when Javier’s light, confident voice asked, “Is someone feeling itchy?” as he strode toward the two of them.
Desmond had never been so happy to have a mortifying conversation overheard in his life. He immediately stood straighter and looked at Javier with utter gratitude.
Javier, who was dressed in a cheap, generic suit and still had hints of make-up on his face from his shoot, slid right up to Desmond and slipped an arm around his waist. The gesture also pulled him away from Angus, who had been standing too close.
Angus took another step back and swept Javier with a look. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said, back to being charming and indifferent. “Angus McTavish.”
“Javier Rivera,” Javier introduced himself, holding out a hand aggressively. “Desmond’s boyfriend.”
The rush of relief and gratitude that pushed through Desmond was so intense that he nearly laughed.
Ordinarily, he would have despised the possessiveness Javier was clearly showing, and he would have balked at allowing a friend of his to introduce himself.
In every other similar situation in the past, when Matthew had showed that sort of ownership of him, it had been humiliating.
With Javier, especially looking the way the man did, Desmond reveled in it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Angus smiled as he shook Javier’s hand, then sent Desmond an impressed look. “I didn’t realize you were off the market again already.”
“Oh, he’s off the market and out of the shopping center,” Javier said, sending Desmond a wink.
Desmond blushed. “We’re very happy,” he told Angus.
Half a second later, he wanted to roll his eyes at himself. He was not the sort of soppy fool who flaunted his relationships like he was on a reality show.
Then again, he’d never had anyone quite as magnificent as Javier to flaunt. It was almost as if the beautiful man had been heaven sent to run interference in the face of ex-lovers.
“It was nice to meet you, Javier,” Angus said, taking another step back. “I’ll let you two get on with your lunch now, but Des, feel free to give me a call if you’d like to talk business.”
“Er, yes.” Desmond waved awkwardly as Angus headed to the lifts.
As soon as he was gone, Javier turned to him with a tightly bemused look. “Babydoll, how many times am I going to have to rescue you from arsehole exes?”
Desmond couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter. He was so relieved the moment was over that it made him dizzy.
“He isn’t an ex,” he said, gesturing for Javier to leave the building with him. “Not exactly.”
“But you did hook up,” Javier said as discreetly as he could as they made their way out to the street. “I know the look he had in his eyes.”
Desmond only hummed in reply. “It was embarrassing and awful,” he said, desperately not wanting to get into the rest of it, “and it was over a long time ago.”
“I see,” Javier said. Funnily, there was no judgement or mocking in those two words. They were a simple statement of acknowledgement. Javier had witnessed the scene, Desmond didn’t want to talk about it, and Javier respected that.
“You are a custom-ordered angel who arrived just in time to prevent an awkward situation from becoming miserable,” he said, smiling broadly. “You should start a service hiring yourself out for rescues or guest appearances as a boyfriend.”
“Something like a talent agency, perhaps?” Javier blinked rapidly several times.
Guilt twisted in Desmond’s gut. “God, sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“You’re good, sweetie.” Javier bumped him with his shoulder. “And it is a good idea.”
Jesus, Desmond didn’t deserve someone as beautiful as Javier.
“Well, I’ve got just under an hour to maybe walk down to the riverfront and grab a bite to eat before I have to go back in there and pretend I’m a new hire at a software company learning their HR system, so let’s make the most of it,” Javier said, brushing his fingers over the back of Desmond’s hand as they walked, then threading their fingers together.
“So instead of dwelling on exes and ohs, let’s eat food that’s bad for us and play spot the tourists. ”
Desmond smiled, his heart lifting and the weight and sourness of everything he was holding on so tightly to keep it hidden from the world softening. He could lose himself in the fantasy he and Javier had created for themselves just a little bit longer. Reality could wait.