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I finally tear my gaze from Anton to look at Phil. “What the fuck are you thinking? That’s fucking illegal.”
Anton’s face pales, and he backs up a step.
“You don’t need to—”
“Be quiet,” I growl, cutting Phil off. “Get back out there to the party or you’re going to be fired. And then I’ll talk to the cops about solicitation and physical assault. Do you understand me? I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth. Get the fuck out of my sight.”
Phil glances back at Anton, and he looks like he still wants to argue, but he wisely just leaves. As soon as his footsteps have echoed down the hall, Anton turns to me. His face is red, and he won’t meet my eyes.
“Come in here,” I say. I want the privacy of the office to talk to him. Once the door is shut behind us, I turn the light on. Anton stands close to me, looking a little uncertain and afraid.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Anton’s expression shifts, turning impassive.
“You don’t need to make promises,” he replies. “I’m fine.”
I can’t help staring at the bruise already forming on his cheek. I want to kill that asshole for touching him.
He clears his throat and glances around the office. “You’re not calling the cops, are you?”
“No. Not unless you want me to.” When he shakes his head, I say, “I’m Parker. Is Anton your real name?”
He offers me a shrug with one shoulder. “My name is whatever you want it to be.”
“Can I have your real name?”
He hesitates, then glances down at the industrial carpet before saying, “Rhys.”
It fits him better than Anton. It’s softer. “How old are you? Your real age?”
“Twenty.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “So…what can I do for you? I’m guessing you didn’t break that up in the hallway to come in here and ask me questions.”
“I broke it up because he hit you.”
“Right. Well, that happens.” He pulls his suit jacket off and lays it across the back of the desk chair. Then he starts for the buttons at his wrists.
“Wait.” I reach out and lay a hand on his wrist. “I just want to talk.”
“Talk?” He shrugs out of my grip so he can start for the buttons at his throat. “I don’t get paid to talk, sir.”
“Parker. And I’ll pay you.” Cameron would probably kill me if he knew I was in here asking this guy to stay. Could I still get charged with solicitation if we don’t have sex? I’m not really sure I care. I just have this deep need to make sure he’s okay. He stood there and took it from Phil without even blinking. There was no surprise. It’s something he likely experiences very frequently.
“To talk?” Doubt is in his voice, but he’s stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “Why?”
“Because I’m stuck at this party until it’s an acceptable time to leave. I’m not asking for anything but your time.”
Rhys hesitates, and I watch as the distrust flickers in his eyes. Followed by a flash of that fear I saw out in the hallway. And I realize I may have messed something up horribly for him when I stopped Phil. If Rhys answers to someone, he could be punished for not doing the job. I’d automatically assumed Rhys was in charge. But if I’m wrong…
“Okay,” he says before I can let my thoughts wander too much longer. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Where are you from?”
Rhys’s lips twitch into a small smile, and I blush. That was really the best topic I could come up with?
“Close to here, actually,” he replies. “What about you?”
“I grew up in Irvine. My brother and I moved here when he was attending UCSF.”
“Are you close with him?” Rhys asks, running a finger along the jacket he tossed over the back of the chair.
