“—don’t you agree, Mr. Kaine?”
The councilman’s voice penetrates the fog. “Sorry, what was that?” I manage, my collar suddenly too tight.
“I said the discipline from combat sports translates well to academic performance.”
“Absolutely,” I answer automatically, while my peripheral vision tracks Theo’s movement across the room.
As if sensing me, Theo turns. Our eyes lock across fifty feet of polished marble and designer suits.
Five months since the Hunt. Two weeks since I made excuses about why he couldn’t come to the event. Eight days since our last fuck—rushed and desperate in his apartment after I claimed I had an early meeting.
My pulse thunders in my chest, sweat breaking across my back.
Theo’s lips curve slightly—a smile so subtle no one else would notice. It carries no accusations, no demands. Just acknowledgment. Recognition.
My hand tightens around my glass. The room narrows to a tunnel.
If I nod back, someone might see. If I approach, questions will follow.Who’s your friend, Victor? How do you know the Eclipse owner? Introduce us.
My panic rises like bile.
I turn my back, presenting Theo with nothing but the expanse of my shoulders beneath my tailored jacket.
“Excuse me,” I tell the councilman, my voice tight. “I need to speak with the event coordinator about our donation.”
I spend the next hour working the room, always aware of where Theo is and positioning myself on the opposite side. My palm sweats around my second whiskey as I navigate through clusters of city officials and potential sponsors, hyper-focused on not looking in his direction.
“The youth program statistics are impressive,” I tell the Parks Commissioner, my back deliberately turned to where Julian’s group mingles by the bar.
Every few minutes, my neck tingles with the certainty that Theo’s watching me. I refuse to check.
When my bladder finally demands attention, I calculate the safest route to the restrooms—through the east doors, far from where I last spotted him with a champagne flute, laughing at something Julian said.
The hallway offers a brief sanctuary. Cool air washes over my flushed face as I push through the bathroom door, splash water on my face, and stare at my reflection.Get it together. You’ve spent three decades not being this person.
I dry my hands and exit, planning my next moves—another fifteen minutes of networking, then a graceful exit...
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Theo’s voice slams into me. He’s leaning against the wall, one shoulder propped casually, tie loosened just enough to suggest the night’s getting interesting.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, glancing frantically down the empty corridor.
“Currently?” His eyes travel slowly down my body. “Admiring the way that suit fits across your shoulders.”
“Stop it.”
He steps closer. “Two weeks is a long time, Victor. I’ve been thinking about your hands.”
The scent of him—cologne and something uniquely Theo—hits me. My mouth goes dry.
“Anyone could walk by,” I warn, even as I step toward him.
“That’s what makes it exciting.” His fingertips brush my wrist. “You look good enough to eat tonight, Daddy.”
The word shatters my restraint. My hand finds his waist, then I’m shoving him through a nearby door—supply closet, coat check, I don’t even care—pressing him against shelves stocked with cleaning products.
The door clicks shut behind us, sealing us in darkness broken only by a thin strip of light beneath the door. My heart thunders against my ribs, but not from fear—from hunger.
