Page 60 of The One-Night Heist

I also didn’t give two shits about “looking pretty,” for him, so when my cab pulled up in front of his building I was dressed in black joggers with a long-sleeved T-shirt that said EAT THE RICH.

Along with my stupid, perfect luggage.

To my surprise, Giano was waiting outside, leaning against the side of his building like a sexy supermodel while laughing with an older doorman I hadn’t seen before.

Enjoy your good mood while it lasts, Moneybags.

“Hello, Rowen,” he said after my cab drove off, his calm tone enraging me more than anything. “Come here. Robert would like to meet you.”

What?

Why exactly one of Giano’s countless minions wanted to meet me was beyond comprehension, but it would be fairly hypocritical of me to be rude to the working class just because the enemy controlled their paycheck.

“So this is the Rowen Quincy I’ve heard so much about,” Robert chuckled as he shook my hand. “You’ll take good care of Mr. Luxford for me while you’re away?”

I couldn’t stop from openly scoffing. “Giancarlo’s a big boy with bottomless pockets. He can take care of himself.”

Just like I take care of myself, thank you very much.

By the amused twinkle in Robert’s eye, it was safe to assume Giano had told him all about my attitude as well. “I’ve known Giancarlo since he was a child, and while he is self-sufficient, that’s on account of his mother leaving him no choice.”

Ohhhh?

“Robert…” Giano warned, although he seemed more fond than angry. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”

The doorman held up his hands in mock surrender. “I mean no disrespect, but both you and Anastasia were forced to act like miniature adults at far too young an age⁠—”

“Oh, your fiancée grew up in this palace also?” I interrupted, crossing my arms and staring Giano down.

“Fiancée?! Sure, kid.” Robert scoffed before tilting his head toward the street behind me. “Scott just pulled up, Mr. Luxford. I’ll bring out your bags—no! You stay here. Terrence can help me.”

Giano sighed as Robert ambled inside. “I already told you, Rowen, it’s not like that with Ana. She’s my⁠—”

“Fake girlfriend?” I rolled my eyes. “Your lavender wife?”

“Exactly,” he snapped, and I straightened, eager for a fight. “That’s exactly what she is because my mother required I put forth a public persona that fit who she believed a Luxford should be, regardless of how I was born.”

Well, shit.

Learning his mother had forced him to stay in the closet made pesky protectiveness flare up once again, adding to the jumble of emotions I’d been battling since yesterday. At the very least, I knew I should apologize for being an insensitive jerk over Anastasia, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d apologized for anything, so I found myself struggling with what to say.

“I shouldn’t have assumed you snacked on five-star pussy!” I blurted out, making his eyes widen. “I’m pan, so, uh… I snack on everyone…”

No one was more surprised than me that I’d tacked on some personal information, but this man deserved an olive branch.

Wilted and malnourished as it may be.

He nodded thoughtfully as the doormen breezed past us with his bags. “So… you’re attracted to someone regardless of sex or gender?”

Okay, but this is cute.

As annoyed as I was with his recent behavior, I could tell he was coming from a place of genuine curiosity, and I was more than happy to teach this baby gay the ropes.

Especially if it makes his mother roll in her gilded grave.

“Yes, my attraction to someone is based on vibes more than anything,” I replied with the simplified version before putting on a judgmental expression. “Although, that usually excludes billionaires…”

His lips twitched. “I suppose I should be grateful to have passed your rigorous vibe test.”