“Why do you get to choose what you hear and what you don’t?” he muttered to himself, refusing to glare at Sloan again. That wasn’t helping at all. “What is it? If it’s another public display, you can go fuck yourself.”
Sloan let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “What have I told you about your manners, pet?”
“I’m not going to stop saying fuck.”
“Then I suppose you don’t want to visit your brother, either.”
Conall’s mouth snapped closed. He cleared his throat, the onslaught of excitement knotting in his belly. How long had he been with Sloan now? Not long, but it felt like forever.
Sloan smoothly stood from his chair and made his way around the desk. He held out his hand, and Conall bit his lip, taking it and letting Sloan drag him against his chest. Sloan’s hard muscles shifted under his suit, but even with layers of clothing between them, Conall could feel every line and crevice of his chest and hips.
“Tell me how much you want to visit your brother, pet,” Sloan whispered into his ear, low and hot.
Conall sighed into Sloan’s shoulder, his teeth grinding to stop himself from saying something he’d regret. This was the time for him to swallow his pride, not give the boss attitude. “I want it a lot.”
“But how much?” Sloan stroked his hair away from his forehead, his blue eyes cold and knowing.
“I’ll do anything,” Conall mumbled.
“I didn’t quite hear you, pet.” The smug grin was begging to be smacked off his face.
Conall sighed. “You heard what I said.”
Sloan raised his eyebrows. “No, I don’t think I did.”
“Are you fuc—” He stopped himself abruptly. Sloan’s hand moved to Conall’s arm, caressing down his short sleeve and onto his bare arm. He was waiting for Conall to mess it up, but Conall wasn’t going to let that happen. He needed to see his brother. “I said that I’ll do anything.” It came out louder this time.
“Good.” Sloan stepped back. “I’ll keep that in mind. Grab your jacket, we’re going for a drive.” He didn’t say another word as he turned his back on Conall, gathering the papers on his desk. When Conall didn’t move, he glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Do you want to go to the whorehouse or not?”
Conall’s body jolted into action. He shot through the office door and up the stairs. The guards’ gazes followed him, but they didn’t move from their spot. He nearly ran into Esmerelda on the way through, but he didn’t bother to apologize. She barely looked at him because as far as the help was concerned, Conall wasn’t to be approached. Apparently pets were meant to be invisible, at least to most of them. Aideen was an exception. Whenever she saw him, she wouldn’t shut up until she got a glare from Mr. Hopper.
Conall shoved open his door, pausing at the threshold. Fionn stood beside his open drawers, riffling through the clothes that weren’t really his, but the moment the door opened, he stepped back, jaw as hard as granite.
“Can I help you with something?” Conall sneered, shifting further in the room. “Does your uncle know you’re going through my stuff?”
Fionn snorted, carding his fingers through his short, light brown hair. “It’s not your belongings, though, is it?”
“As far as Sloan is concerned, it is.”
“Sloan now, huh? What happened to calling him Killough?” Fionn’s smirk reminded him of Sloan. The family resemblance was prominent, when Fionn wasn’t acting like a dog trying to please his master.
Conall stalked closer and stopped beside him. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Fionn carefully. Conall wasn’t an idiot and knew he had to tread carefully. This was a game Fionn had played a lot longer than him, and he knew how Sloan—Killough—worked. If he pushed Fionn too hard, he’d be the one with the slit throat bleeding all over the freshly polished floor.
“What are you looking for?” Conall glanced at the drawers. The clothes in there belonged to the last pet, or the pet before that, he didn’t know which one. They were a size too small and clung to him in an uncomfortable way. But they were clean and better than wearing the same thing day after day. “If I was hiding something, it wouldn’t be in the clothes drawers. That’s a little obvious.”
“And where would you hide it, whore?” Fionn bared his straight white teeth at him, as though he actually was trying to be a guard dog. Maybe he should be the one with the collar on.
Conall smiled, wide and sinister, and leaned closer. “What would be the fun in telling you that?”
Fionn gritted his teeth but forced his own smile across his thin lips. “I know you’re not as truthful as Sloan thinks you are. You’re hiding something, and when I find out, I’ll deliver you to the Russians myself, maybe even watch as they cut you into pieces.”
“Are you into that sort of kinky stuff?”
Fionn bumped his shoulder as he shoved past him, slamming the door behind him in the process. It left Conall in the quiet room, staring at the mess Fionn had left behind. Whatwashe looking for? Conall didn’t have a clue. Sloan had come into his house and taken him from his home. He didn’t have time to steal anything away before he’d been swept into a new life—a life he never asked for. Fionn didn’t seem to understand that. He acted like anyone would wish to be in Conall’s position.
Shaking his head, he grabbed his jacket and slid it on, heading back out the door and down the grand stairs. Sloan was waiting for him beside the oak doors, Mr. Hopper hovering by his side. They were whispering something to each other, and finally Sloan nodded.
Conall stopped in front of him. “Ready.”
