“Yeah, well, most of my clients treat me better than you do,” he snapped, before he could stop himself.
Rourke’s stare shot to him. “What?”
Forrest slammed the glass on the desk. “I’m more than property, Rourke. I’m a human being. My clients seem to know that, why don’t you?” He sucked in a deep breath and stood, the twinge in his asshole a reminder that they’d just fucked. Too bad Rourke’s words made it a sour memory. “I’m going to bed.”
Rourke didn’t say a word when Forrest turned and stormed from the room and that only made Forrest feel worse. Fuck Rourke and his stupid fucking rules.
***
Forrest yawned and dropped his head against Angel’s thigh. It was eleven at night, and he should have been in his own bed, but sometimes he needed the company and Angel complained less than the other professionals. Honey the cat lay curled up beside them, her purring the only sound in the deadly quiet room. At least until Angel spoke up.
“Did you tell Rourke the truth?” Angel asked quietly, stroking Forrest’s hair close to his temple.
“I’m not going to lie to him. I told him I knew she used.”
“But you didn’t tell him where she got it from.”
Forrest attempted to shrug. “I don’t want to get Alice into trouble, but the bitch deserves it.”
“That would get Terrance in trouble too.”
“I’m not convinced Terrance gave Alice the gear.” Forrest stared up at the hanging lights. They were simple, but elegant. As the fourth highest earner, Angel’s room wasn’t as fancy as Forrest’s, but it wasn’t ugly, either. He had fewer sex toys to choose from, and he didn’t have a walk-in closet, either. Forrest loved his walk-in, and he couldn’t imagine living without it.
“Why?” Angel held a book in his hand, his eyes scanning the text on the pages. He’d always been good at concentrating on more than one thing at a time. They lay on the wide king-sized bed, pink covers making it almost too bright on Forrest’s retinas. Angel loved pink, though.
“Because he’s always followed Rourke’s rules. He wants the Virtue back, and he’s not going to get it if he has workers ODing.” Forrest tilted his head back and smiled. “And Conall would kick his ass if he found out Terrance gave Alice drugs.”
“That’s true. Does Alice even use it?”
“Not sure. She could be dealing for the extra cash.”
Angel slapped his arm. “Then you need to tell Rourke. If he finds out you knew about it… well, it might beyouon the streets.”
“I’m Rourke’s favorite,” Forrest teased, though the words tasted sour in his mouth. He was Rourke’s favoritepossession. Nothing more.
Angel made a noise and brushed his hair off his face. Angel didn’t have any products in it tonight, and he looked amazing, even though he didn’t have any makeup on. “Everyone knows that, but even favorites can fall from our boss’s good graces.”
Forrest sighed and touched Angel’s knee, shifting his head to get more comfortable. Even though he didn’t look muscular, Angel had a swimmer’s build with compact muscles, which meant his thigh wasn’t very soft on Forrest’s cheek. “Angel, have you ever been hurt by a client?”
Angel’s stroking fingers paused. “Yes.”
Forrest swallowed around the lump in his throat. “What happened to him or her?”
“He died.” Angel’s fingertips danced over Forrest’s cheek, caressing like a mother comforting her child. “Those bruises?”
“Yeah. Montague.”
Angel clicked his tongue. “I thought he was an asshole. He even smelled like an asshole. Who wears Old Spice anymore?”
Forrest laughed quietly. “I don’t know.”
“How does he hurt you?”
The stillness of the room soothed Forrest and made him feel safe. Angel and he never talked much, they preferred to lie there and touch, but this felt good. “He holds me too tightly, pinches me. He likes it when I bruise.”
“Why haven’t you told Rourke?”
“Are you kidding me? Montague brings in good money and he’s powerful. We can’t lose a client like him. Rourke would never forgive me.” Forrest closed his eyes under Angel’s ministrations.
