Desmond sucked in a breath and sat straighter. It wasn’t usual for his colleagues to ask about his dating life, but Marcus had been steadily becoming more of a friend as they worked on the Hongyuan Nanjing deal together.
“Sorry if that’s too personal,” Marcus quickly followed, holding his hands up.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Desmond said, squirming in his chair. “I’m, um….”
It wasn’t that he was afraid of telling his colleague he was dating a man. Everyone knew he was gay, and their office was indifferent to people’s preferences. They’d even instituted unisex bathrooms when the entire trans debate reared its ugly head.
What truly gave Desmond pause was his own questions about whether he and Javier were dating. Did it count if it was only weekends? He wanted it to count. And if he was honest, he wanted it to be more than weekends.
At least, he thought he did. There was that little part of him that feared what might happen when he and Javier stopped pretending they were a happy, fantasy couple with no problems between them. He didn’t think he could bear the moment Javier discovered he wasn’t the prize everyone seemed to think he was, that he had enough skeletons in his closet to spark a police investigation.
“It’s early days,” he finally answered Marcus with a bashful grin.
“Oh, I see.” Marcus smiled widely. “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe you and your new friend would want to come out to supper with me and Angela one of these nights.”
Desmond’s insides tried to go in half a dozen different directions at once. Having supper with a colleague and his wife would be lovely. He was certain Javier would be a charming dinner partner, unlike Matthew. If they were a real, full-time couple, they could do couple things. They could be normal.
Desmond could hardly remember what normal felt like.
“I’ll ask him and see what he says,” he answered Marcus, knowing full well his answer was cagey as hell.
“Good,” Marcus said, then slapped the arm of his chair and pushed himself to stand. “Now, back to work for us, am I right? Hongyuan Nanjing isn’t going to sign the partnership deal unless we work for it.”
“You’re right about that,” Desmond said, relieved the oddly intense conversation was almost over.
“Goulding McTavish isn’t going to know what hit them,” Marcus fired at him with a wink as he left the office.
Desmond blew out a breath as soon as he was gone and sank back in his chair. If Marcus knew about any part of his connection to Angus McTavish, dinner offers would be rescinded, budding friendships would be crushed, and Harry Pickering would likely go after him as fiercely as he was going after Matthew.
Desmond couldn’t think about it. Not if he wanted to get his work done. If he was smart, he would have texted Javier back and canceled his plans with his lover so he could double down on the mountain of work he needed to do to earn his ongoing position at Pickering Jones. If he worked hard enough and made enough money for the company, maybe no one would care about Angus and the insider trading.
He’d almost made up his mind to cancel lunch with Javier when a text came through close to half eleven with the address where his weekend boyfriend was working.
“There are plenty of places to eat nearby,” Javier added.
Desmond smiled at the messages and melted like a New Year’s resolution to go to the gym more. “I’ll see you shortly,” he texted back.
Javier replied with a kissy face emoji.
Desmond giggled like a ten-year-old.
Then he frowned and shook his head, stood, and stepped to the side to grab his coat from the stand in the corner of his office.
It was a relief to get out of the structured and stolid office building and to walk in the spring sunshine on his way to the DLR. There were times, not often, but a few, when he stepped out of the corporate world and entertained the idea of never going back. He couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t take back the blurted stock tips that had earned Angus, his competitor and his former, albeit reluctant, playmate an eye-popping number of zeroes for his bank account. But maybe if he walked away from everything, he could let it all go and move on.
The building in Greenwich where Javier was working was one of dozens of nondescript office buildings constructed after the war. It was close enough to some of the more touristy parts of the city than Desmond was used to, which meant it was crowded enough to put him on edge, but nothing could have prepared Des for the shock that hit him as soon as he stepped into the building at the address Javier had given him.
“Desmond?”
Des jerked and looked up in time to avoid running headlong into none other than Angus McTavish himself.
What were the odds? What the bloody hell were the odds?
“McTavish,” Desmond mumbled, shifting to the side to let a woman who entered the building just behind him pass and make her way toward the bank of lifts off to one side.
Angus laughed and extended a hand. “There’s no need for formality,” he said. “Angus will do.”
“Yes, er, quite,” Desmond said, his brain exploding as Angus took his hand.
