Conall scratched his jaw, a nervous habit he’d had since he was a teen. “I didn’t imagine you to be a guy who likes the beach.”
“I don’t.” Conall felt the heat of Killough’s body when he stepped closer. The electricity of it thrummed over Conall’s skin, his heart drumming against his ribs so loudly that he thought Killough might hear it.
He touched Conall’s elbow and wrapped his fingers around it. Conall was grateful he still wore his suit. He didn’t know how much more skin-to-skin contact he could handle right now.
“But this is the best real estate in America, and I like pretty things.”
Conall curled his hands into fists under that intense stare and raised his chin. “Then you should have chosen Forrest. He’s very pretty when he’s naked in my bed. All pale porcelain skin and long, lean legs.”
He felt Killough’s laughter right down to his bones, and irritation simmered in the pit of his stomach. He hated that the gorgeous bastard thought he was amusing.
“He’s not as pretty as you.” He trailed the back of his finger over Conall’s cheek, leaving behind a burning sensation wherever he touched. “I like a challenge.”
“Everyone says that until they can’t handle the heat.” Conall shifted closer until he felt Sloan’s heavy breath tickling his cheek and nose. “It’s time for you to step out of the kitchen,sir.”
Killough blinked slowly, then threw his head back and laughed even louder. “Oh, pet, you’re so entertaining.” He turned his attention to his guard and waved his hand. The monster bowed his head and strode inside the mansion, the door clicking gently behind him. It left them alone in the driveway. “I would enjoy seeing you in the kitchen, maybe naked, drizzled with chocolate sauce.”
Conall snorted and folded his arms over his chest. “Not going to happen.”
Killough smirked and plucked at the collar of Conall’s shirt. The breeze fluttered around them, catching Killough’s musky scent and driving it closer to Conall, teasing his nose. “We’ll see. Come.”
Conall followed him without hesitation, and any other time he might have scolded himself for it, but he was tired, and all he could think about was a hot shower. Maybe Killough would be nice enough to let him have one.
The double-door entrance to the mansion’s foyer opened, and a butler stepped out and to the side, allowing them to enter.
“Pet, meet Mr. Hopper.” Killough gestured at the tall, elderly man. He wore a black suit, the kind Conall expected a servant to wear, and had impeccable gray hair that he’d combed back from his surprisingly unlined face. His lips twisted unpleasantly, a sneer marring his features as he stared at Conall. “Mr. Hopper is our butler and runs my house twenty-four hours a day. He lets me know when my people put a toe out of line.” Killough’s smirk told Conall that his “people”now included him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Mr. Hopper gave him a short bow, but there wasn’t anything respectful about it. He didn’t hide the distaste on his face well.
Killough led Conall into a wide entrance hall that made him pause. Between the size and beauty of it, he felt breathless. It had white marble floors, elegant chandeliers that hung from high ceilings, and a white double staircase with intricately designed black rails that led to the second floor.
“Are you impressed, pet?” Killough’s hand touched his shoulder, his breath hot against his ear, and Conall shivered.
He shot him a glare. “I’ve seen bigger.”
Killough’s rich laughter filled the entrance hall. “I doubt that. I pride myself on my size.”
They weren’t talking about the mansion anymore, and as much as he wanted to, Conall couldn’t argue. Killough definitely had a huge cock, the biggest Conall had seen on a guy, and he worked with whores.
A petite woman in a black dress sauntered out from a door to the left. Like Mr. Hopper, she bowed. Unlike the butler, though, she seemed a lot friendlier, and younger, too. She might have been in her midthirties, with her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, and bright brown eyes shining out from skin the color of caramel. She looked like she could have been Mexican. She was definitely a Latina.
She held out her hand to Killough when he approached her, passing him a letter. He didn’t give her a thanks, but she obviously wasn’t waiting for one as she bowed again and left the way she came.
He ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter, his gaze scanning over the writing. From where Conall stood, he could see a messy scrawl that he wouldn’t be able to read, even if he tried. Whatever it said made Killough sigh as he closed it back up and shoved it inside his jacket.
“What’s that?” Conall asked before he could stop himself.
Killough’s smirk sent a shiver down his spine. “That’s none of your business. The more you prove your loyalty to me, the more you’ll learn about how my company runs.”
Conall resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Terrance had always been interested in learning how the Killough Company did things behind closed doors, but it’d never concerned Conall. He had no ambitions to reach higher than the Virtue. He’d seen men reach higher and end up in a grave, and he didn’t have a death wish.
“Come, pet, I’ll show you your room.” Killough began to ascend the left side of the staircase, not looking back to see if Conall was following. With the sharp eyes of Mr. Hopper on him, Conall didn’t have a choice.
The second floor was just as elegant and beautiful as what he’d seen of the first, with royal-blue carpet gracing the floor and expensive paintings hanging on cream walls. The paneling of the ceiling had carvings in it, and the lights were more crystal chandeliers. Killough clearly had a love for them.
He was led to a wide white door with an elaborate gold handle further down a hallway, and Killough opened it, stepping through. Conall trailed after him and bit his lip when he walked into a bedroom that could only be described as fit for a king. He thought he had luxury at the Virtue, but that had nothing on what he was seeing right then.
The room’s color theme was blue, with dark sapphire curtains, lush carpet, and a four-poster king-sized bed. A massive walk-in wardrobe stood open with stacks of male clothing and shoes on display, and a wooden desk and executive-style chair, as well as a top-of-the-line laptop, were nestled in a corner of the room. A door to the right led into a bathroom, and while he couldn’t see inside it from where he stood, he could already imagine how classy and expensive it looked.
