“Of course.”
Before I could feel relief unfurl in my belly, his next words shattered any illusions I had about him being soft and gentle.
“Andrew would’ve paid. One way or another, but not through you. He incurred the debt, I would’ve settled it with him. But you working for me, helping me, is a much better option, don’t you think?”
I dropped my gaze to the table, not wanting to see the steely reserve in his eyes. “Yeah, I think so. You would’ve hurt him, wouldn’t you?”
“Barrett, look at me. If you’re going to ask me a question like that, look at me so you can see my answer.”
Sighing, I managed to lift my gaze to his.
“With me, debts always get settled.”
I nodded in understanding.
“I’ve got a question for you. Why did you take on your brother’s debt?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
I hated that he wouldn’t let me get away without answering him. I blew out a breath of air. “Misplaced loyalty, I guess.”
“It goes deeper.”
“Does nothing get by you?” I demanded.
He didn’t smile, only waited.
“I decided that if I did this for Andrew, I wouldn’t feel guilty about cutting ties. Forever.”
“I thought you were going to say something completely different.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What? You thought that if I did this for Andrew, all his resentment would suddenly disappear, and we could have the relationship I’d always hoped to have with my brother?”
“Maybe. People have a hard time cutting off their family—even if they’re toxic.”
“Are you close to your family?”
I’d seen the blank cold mask on Flynn’s face before. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the bitterness in his eyes and voice when he said, “I don’t talk about my family.”
I woke up early the next morning, since I’d gone to bed at a reasonable hour the night before. As I was about to make coffee, my door buzzer sounded. A few minutes later, I was opening a box of gourmet coffee. Shaking my head, I let out a sigh.
I brewed a pot and then took a selfie with my cup and sent it to Flynn.
Over the next few weeks, my life seemed to iron out into a routine. I worked four nights a week at the club. Mornings after my shifts were lazy, but on my days off, I went for jogs in Central Park. Summer was bountiful and bustling, and I tried to get outside as much as possible before the weather turned. The exercise cleared my head, but Flynn was rarely far from my thoughts.
Flynn came to my apartment on Fridays at noon, and while I gave him a rundown of his club, I cooked for him. The conversation always stepped away from business, but I tried to keep our time together light. I didn’t ask him in-depth questions about his life, but the same couldn’t be said for him. He wanted to know everything and anything about me.
It was almost like we were dating. Only we weren’t, because while he was getting to know me, he only revealed slivers of himself. And he never tried to kiss me or touch me when he came over to my apartment. He’d drawn the line and was very adamant about not stepping over it. It was driving me insane. I’d never wanted a man more, and I was sure the bastard knew it. The sexual tension between us was on a simmer, and I wondered what it would take to bring it to a boil.
Saturday nights at the club were always busy, but tonight was a different beast. Tension thrummed along my skin, so thick it was palpable. I moved slowly through the crowd. The four businessmen at a table in my section were growing rowdier by the second, impatiently snapping their fingers to get my attention
“How we doin’, gents?” I asked with a wide insincere smile. “Ready for another round?”
“Yeah, another round,” the ringleader said. He was middle-aged but still had all his hair. Apparently that made him fearless. “And I wouldn’t say no to your phone number.”
His friends laughed like baboons. My smile remained in place, but it tightened. “I’m flattered,” I lied. “But I’ve got a boyfriend.”
