My eyes seek him out instinctively, looking out over the first floor. Scanning, searching.
I frown and walk to the railing. “I don’t see him.”
“What?” Kira joins me and we both look over the crowd. “He’s probably just behind some art piece. I can go look for him if–”
“There he is.” I spot him, and my blood goes cold, then boils hot.
He’s not downstairs. He’s not on the second-floor overlook, either. He’s on a service stairwell behind the old organ that’s still on display, on the wall opposite where I’m standing. The stairs lead straight to an unlit door marked ‘rooftop, employees only’.
And he’s not alone.
“What’s he doing with Gregory and Leonard?” Kira asks, then gasps. “You don’t think that they could be…do you?”
“They’ll regret it, either way,” I growl, signaling the closest man I have on surveillance to follow me. “Stay here. I’ll take care of this.”
Emotions are mysterious things, hard to define. But right now, the tight control I’ve had on my temper all night is fraying, snapping. My focus zeros in on the door that Tommy just disappeared through as I cut through the crowd, two loyal men on my heels. Is this anger? Is this fear? Is this hatred?
Rage?
Something along those lines. Maybe all of those things. Maybe none.
It doesn’t matter. The result will be the same.
He thinks he needs to ask me to keep him? That there’s a chance in hell I’d ever let him face anything on his own?
I’m about to prove how far I’ll go, how much Ifeel, even though I can’t say it in words. I’m keeping him alright. God help anyone who gets in my way.
“Sir, was this the plan?” one of my employees asks at my elbow. And it’s a good question, because the plan was to give the blackmailers a chance to get to Tommy.
But fuck that. I’ve been bending and breaking all night.
“Him being out of my sight wasn’t the fucking plan,” I snap back. “Don’t fucking question me again.”
“Yes, sir.” My man nods nervously as we weave through the crowd toward the stairwell. It takes all my self-control not to shove people out of my way.
This isn’t part of Tommy’s test for me, I’m fairly certain of that. But I don’t plan on failing him, whether he asks me for help or not. He’s mine.
He is the measure of what I feel, the object of my emotional storm. I’m fucking keeping him.
And I’ll prove it by any means necessary.
Chapter 31
Tommy
Alright, so Young-gi is right. I’m not acting like myself. Because for the first time–maybe ever–I feel really…
Good.
I’m…I’m fucking in love with him.
And that’s terrifying, so I’m also a fucking anxious wreck. Distracted, lost in my thoughts. For the past two days, Young-gi’s been grabbing my chin and making me look at him, like he’s trying to read my mind through my eyes. He’s as stone-cold as ever, impossible to read, but his steady presence is so comforting. He’s been watching me, clearly knowing that something is wrong. He reads me so well.
And I hate that, love that, hate that I love it because it’s so easy to lose. One little mistake might bring all this crashing down.
I feel hyper-aware of my body. My skin feels strange, like all it wants is to be under Young-gi’s hands again. I really didn’t expect to be able to have sex with him and cum, too. It’s like he fixed me or something. I feel excited, thrilled.
And stupid and scared because of course he didn’t ‘fix’ me, so what if I can’t cum for him next time? What if that disappoints him?
