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Conor chuckled but didn’t confirm or deny. Since clearing the air about high school, it felt as if he and Luca had done a reboot, their friendship picking up where it had left off in Spanish class. Luca was an easygoing guy, fun to be around, and he never failed to make Conor laugh.
The same held true for Harper.
For a guy who’d laughed precious little in his life, he appreciated being able to spend so much time with them.
It was impossible to deny that he was attracted to both, so strongly drawn to both, that everything he prided himself on—his self-control, his stoicism, his ability to make intelligent decisions without being blinded by emotion—was gone.
Cupid’s arrow had struck him in the ass. Twice.
Which was absolutely fucking terrifying.
The night of his first kiss with Luca, Conor had woken up in the middle of the night in the throes of a major panic attack. He’d spent close to an hour shivering in cold sweat, fighting for every single breath, his usual methods for regaining control failing.
For a couple days after, he’d been determined to get his life back on track, retreating into his permanent patterns—work, home, sleep, repeat.
He’d failed miserably.
Because Harper and Luca refused to leave him alone.
Conor hadn’t known how to fend them off because he had no experience with such persistence. Growing up, no one noticed or cared when Conor slipped away to his room. He kept his office at Enigma rather than the Russo Enterprises’ building because there were only a few employees at the club during the day—and they knew not to bother him—so he was guaranteed solitude there.
He lived alone, dined alone, slept alone, worked alone. No one had ever questioned it because they assumed that was what he preferred.
Luca and Harper were the only people to ever challenge him, constantly finding ways to draw him out…draw him closer.
Giving in to his attraction to them was a huge mistake, one that would lead to heartbreak in the end. Regardless, he seemed destined to break the Russo code.
Because he was going to be weak.
Because he was going to fail.
He hated the idea of hurting Harper and Luca, of dimming their light with his dark shadows, but his ability to do the right thing was on shaky foundation at best.
Especially when Luca reached over and gripped his knee, giving it a squeeze. “You look great, man. You’ve got that whole sexy James Bond thing going on right now.”
Conor laughed, his cock twitched, and before he could recite all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this—again—he pressed a quick kiss to Luca’s lips. “Thanks.”
Luca regarded him, his expression equal parts surprise and pleasure.
As they pulled up in front of Harper’s hotel, they stepped out of the limo. There was a distinct spring in Conor’s step. Despite his objections, he’d secretly been looking forward to tonight since Luca made the suggestion.
And now, Conor felt lighter. Probably because, with that quick kiss in the limo, he’d decided to loosen his grip on the reins.
Just for tonight, he lied to himself.
“Good evening, Mr. Russo,” the woman at the front desk said as he approached.
“Hello, Jenna. I need a keycard to the executive floor.”
“Yes, sir.”
Conor had given Harper an executive suite on the top floor of the hotel, the floor only accessible with a special keycard. Also on that floor was a large conference room with an amazing view of the city. Conor preferred to hold his meetings here rather than at the Russo Enterprises’ building, so he was a familiar face with the hotel staff.
He and Luca entered the elevator, and Conor swiped the card before pushing the button for Harper’s floor. Luca fussed with his jacket before running a finger under his collar, tilting his neck uncomfortably. Unlike Conor, the sexy construction worker wasn’t used to ties—bow or neck. Luca tugged harder, and Conor swatted his hand away, turning to adjust it.
“Stop messing with it.”
Luca sighed. “I’m not used to wearing monkey suits, let alone owning one. It was nice of your brother to loan this to me.”
