“He’ll eventually get arrested for tax evasion,” Paris said. “We only need a few more weeks.”
I shook my head, chuckling. Paris was a formidable force. “I’d better make sure I never end up being your enemy.”
“And heisguilty of the tax evasion,” Terry said slowly, looking from Boone to Paris.
Paris lifted his chin. “Should I be insulted by your insinuation, Terrance?”
My mate raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Just double-checking.”
Leaning comfortably against his husband, Paris gave Terry a friendly smile. “Don’t worry. My strategy has always been to eliminate problems and not to create new ones that might come back and bite me in the ass.”
Terry was stilltense on the way home, but at least he let me drive. We got on the highway, passing the exit to the Ardaine International Airport.
“We should go on a vacation,” I said. “A secure, private resort. Beach during the day, flying at night,maybe a few horny omegas looking for a discreet fling abroad.”
“Except you don’t wrap up filming until next month.”
“We’ll go right after that.”
“Unless the production gets delayed,” he muttered.
I grimaced. Yeah, that might happen. “You’re tired of the bullshit around me, huh?”
He turned to me and put his hand on my thigh. “I’m not tired ofyou. And a vacation sounds great. I’m sorry I’m such a grump today.”
“I might come up with something to distract you.” I winked at him, and Terry smiled. He stroked my thigh as I drove.
“Something occurred to me when we were at Paris’s,” I said. “Why are horses afraid of us, but dogs aren’t?”
“Not sure, but to some species, we’re predators even though we haven’t really hunted in dragon form for centuries. The instinct must still be there. And some dogs get antsy as well. It’s just Badger who’s unconcerned. He grew up with shifters.”
“Your great-grandfather’s dog is unbearably cute.”
“Badger is the best.”
“Could we get a dog?” I asked.
Terry turned to me with his eyebrow raised. “With our schedule?”
Yeah, it probably was a stupid idea. “Maybe one day?”
“Sure. One day.”
Paris’snext premiere was a small, relaxed event. The movie wasn’t expected to be a huge box office success—a biopic about a destitute poet dying of tuberculosis in the lateeighteen hundreds wouldn’t attract the masses—but Paris would no doubt grab a few awards for the role.
I was pleasantly surprised we were invited even though I hadn’t been involved in the production. Maybe Paris truly considered me a friend. I shook hands with Allan Caspian, and Paris waved me forward to take a few pictures with him and Boone. When I crooked a finger at Terry, he glanced at the photographers then shrugged and came to pose with us. Let the tabloids think whatever they wanted.
We sat through the movie in respectful silence and joined in the standing ovation with suitable enthusiasm even though I was just happy it was over. Paris did a fantastic job, but the movie was the most depressing shit I’d ever seen.
“I need a drink,” I whispered to Terry.
He chuckled. “Which won’t help.”
“I just spent two and a half hours watching a guy slowly choke to death. I need something life-affirming. A quickie in the toilets?”
Grimacing, he pinched my side. “You can’t make me laugh now!” he hissed.
“It would look bad, huh?”
