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Riley didn’t like where this was going. “Yes.”
“You need to do what you would’ve done then.”
“Take him somewhere and fuck him?”
Marc grinned. “Yes. That.”
“Fine. I’ll get us a cabin.”
CHAPTER NINE
Darius was standing at the counter, reading what looked like handwritten notes. He glanced up when Riley and Marc entered. He was wearing reading glasses, and they were so geeky hot on him, Riley couldn’t help but smile. “Nice glasses.”
Darius narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare mock me. I’m no older than your boyfriend.”
“Fiancé actually, and he wears them sometimes too.”
Darius smiled. “So congratulations are in order, then.”
“Yes. Thank you. I was hoping you’d recommend a style of tux for the wedding.”
“Of course.” He glanced very briefly at Marc before closing the folder in front of him and holding it out. “Marc, put this in the back and continue with the project from yesterday.”
Marc took the folder and circled the counter without saying a word, but Riley caught the hurt look on his face at his abrupt dismissal.
“Is everything okay?” Riley asked.
Darius frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“Well…um…I wanted to make sure everything was working out with Marc being here.”
“He’s a fast learner. I think he’ll do.”
It was clear Darius wasn’t going to say more, so Riley dropped it. Something had happened between him and Marc. But even as close as Marc and Riley were, Marc wasn’t talking. Why had Riley thought Darius would? Hopefully Marc would confide in Riley soon. Working with this kind of tension wasn’t good for either of them.
Darius opened his laptop and started typing. “Please don’t tell me you want some garish color or some froufrou nonsense.”
“So pink with regency cravats is out?”
“Wanker.”
“Simple is fine, but I want something different from the basic ones we have,” Riley said.
“Hmmm. Basic is always good.”
“Yes, but—”
Darius held up a hand. “Let me think. How much do you trust me?”
“With my clothes?”
“Ah, good of you to clarify.” He gave Riley a lurid once-over. “Because with other things, you shouldn’t trust me at all. Yes, with your clothes.”
“Completely.”
Darius nodded. “Then let me handle this for you.”
“Handle it how?”
“This will be my gift to you.”
Riley frowned. “I can’t allow you to—”
“I’ll only be procuring them, and they won’t be yours to keep. I know someone who can get much higher quality than any rental even Thornwell Shipton has access to. And I’m owed a favor.”
“Are you sure?” Riley didn’t want to impose.
“Yes, very sure.”
“Thank you. Do we get to see or…?”
“No, it will be a surprise until a few days before the wedding when I do a fitting.”
“I…”
Darius smiled. “You said you trusted me completely.”
“Fine. I know it will be wonderful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, and truly I’m very happy for you. For both of you, but more for Thorne really. You’re so good for him.”
“He’s good for me too.”
Darius raised a brow. “Really? Even when he’s being an ass?”
“Even then.” Riley suddenly missed him dreadfully.
“Then you are both very lucky.” Darius’s words sounded almost wistful.
“I didn’t know you were a romantic.”
“I’m not. I’m a realist, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like seeing others happy.”
Riley didn’t believe that for a second. “Maybe your happiness isn’t so far away.”
Darius held his gaze for several seconds. “Some people aren’t meant to be with others.”
“Everyone is meant to be happy.”
Darius shuddered. “How sickening. Go. Leave me to work my genius for you.”
“Thank you.” That’s more the reaction Riley had expected. “Good-bye, Marc,” Riley called toward the back.
“See you tonight,” Marc said.
Darius had picked up his phone, so Riley nodded to him and hurried out before he acted on his impulse to give the two of them the push they deserved.
***
Thorne hadn’t minded working with Wilson Ames, his client in Chicago, despite his demanding nature. But Wilson had been called away to New York, and now Thorne was saddled with Wilson’s second-in-command, Alston Barton. Thorne had decided within moments that he despised the man. Having spent the evening at an interminable dinner, Thorne had attempted to excuse himself pleading work, but Barton had insisted on one more round of drinks.
Barton took a sip from his glass, sloshing a bit. How many had he had? About twice as many as Thorne from what he could tell.
“So I hear you’ve got yourself a very young partner,” he said.
Where the hell had he heard that? “I do.”
“Think you can hold on to him?”
“He’s accepted my proposal, so yes.”
“Ha! Spencer, one of my VPs. He’s gay like you. He was dating a guy who was…what, twenty, twenty-one? I don’t know. He looked like a fucking kid. Thought things were great. So fucking proud of himself. After a few months, the guy decided he needed someone his own age. Ran off to California with an eighteen-year-old. But I guess maybe it can work. I wouldn’t mind a twenty-year-old myself. A girl, though. I can’t get into boys.”
