Page 43 of Compulsion

He looked genuinely disturbed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Pretend I’m a journalist,” I said, not without some bitterness. “Pretend it’s for a gossip mag.”

He frowned. “I do not tell them everything, Max. Only what they want to hear. Only about the club.” When I didn’t reply, he shrugged. For a brief moment, the music’s volume dipped and the beat shifted to something slower. His voice was perfectly clear. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

I decided to go easy on him. “Tell me some fun things, like I did. I know where you live, I know what you do. What films do you watch, what music do you like? You know the kind of stuff I mean. Best sport, dream car, fantasy holiday, favorite T-shirt.”

This time he laughed. “I don’t think I’ve had the same kind of fun as you have, Max.”

“You’ve traveled, though? Seems to me your accent isn’t just London or Spain.”

He nodded. “I was born in Madrid, where my father worked as an engineer. But he was American, so we traveled between the USA and Europe for most of my life. He was in much demand for international projects. I expect I have picked up many speech patterns over the years.”

“Must have been exciting.”

He made a strange grimace. “Not as much as you think. I have been to many schools, transferred to and from several colleges. Friends aren’t….” He cleared his throat, and perhaps not just because the music was throbbing in our eardrums again. “It’s difficult to maintain friendships when there’s so little continuity. I learned to adapt to wherever I was. When Papa died, we returned permanently to Europe and Mama introduced me to the family business.”

I found myself gripping my bottle of water more tightly. “And you’ve been there ever since.”

He didn’t answer directly, but he seemed to be entering into the spirit of the conversation. “It has shaped the whole of my adult life, I suppose you’d say. I have little leisure time outside the club. I buy my clothes from designer catalogues and my daily living needs are provided for me, including my car and my flat.” Suddenly, the reflection in his eyes sparked with something like resentment. “I used to swim a great deal, I was in the top team at one college. I used to read a lot of science fiction. I enjoyed making my own tapas dishes.” It was all in the past tense. “And amazing though it may seem, I also like pepperoni best.”

A laugh burst out of me. When he snaked a hand behind my neck, I leaned forward into the kiss. His skin felt warm and his cheeks were very flushed. We didn’t speak at all for a few long, languid moments. Goose pimples ran up my spine and my jeans got tighter around my crotch, but there was also something else at play—something more relaxed, more sensual. It felt like we were taking our time for a change. When we finally broke apart, it wasn’t because of the bartender’s raised eyebrows or the wolf whistle in my ear from further along the bar. It was because we chose to.

“I’ve been to see Mama,” Seve said slowly. His head was still forward, his breath against my ear. “I have told her of the concerns about my uncle and our clubs. She assured me he has nothing to do with gangs and the drug trade.” He made the idea sound as unlikely as interplanetary travel. “He’s just a businessman. You must take my word for that.”

I must, must I? It was a cruel and unpleasant reminder that Seve and I had far more between us than a foot of bar counter. I wanted to believe him, I really did. Was it possible that I was wrong? That he wasn’t that naïve? That he wasn’t blinded—or not so blinded—by family loyalty?

I wanted to believe—didn’t I say that? But it was a world I’d been burrowed into for a long time, and I knew who and what had been involved. There was nothing I could see that would stop it happening here. I stared back at Seve. I thought I was so sharp, but now I’d never felt duller. I didn’t know where the hell I was going with this. With us.

Seve’s tone was firm. “Step away from it, Max. You came to see me like I came to see you. That’s what matters. But we can’t talk properly here. Let’s leave.” He slid a hand up my thigh and squeezed none too gently.

Yes, of course I wanted to leave with him, go somewhere with him. I had eyes only for him. My mouth opened in reply. “No,” I said. “It’s Louis’s night and I’m here as his friend and guest. Maybe we can get together later.” Oh, how cool I thought I sounded. So bloody laid-back. Seve smiled like he was imagining me laid back, and his hand tightened on my leg. My dick strained inside my jeans. I had to find a looser, more comfortable pair.

Then his mobile rang in his pocket. He let go of me and slipped off his stool, turning his back to me as he answered the call. I took a long, almost sly look at those shoulders I now knew had been broadened by swimming, the tight arse that had been muscled by strong legs kicking through the water.

“I have to take a business call,” he said, turning back to face me. “For… it’s confidential.”

I wrenched my gaze back up to his face. “Sure.”

He didn’t move away, though, and I couldn’t identify his expression. “I meant what I said about us, Max. We cannot talk here. Will you meet me later? I will be free from here in an hour or so.”

“Sure,” I repeated. “If I’m still here.” I didn’t mean it to sound snappy, but Seve’s eyes narrowed.

“Be here,” he said. “Please.” Our eyes met. Then he turned and strode through the bar area and back out toward the exit.

WHEN I got back to our table, Jack was with Bryan, who was chomping through a pile of nachos in a plastic bowl. I assumed the others were all dancing or with friends elsewhere. I noticed several bottles of champagne on the table, already opened. “From the management,” Jack said with a wry grin. “Severino Nuñez stopped by. He says all Louis’s drinks are free for the night.”

I nodded. Reached for a glass, then remembered I wasn’t drinking.

“Want some?” Bryan thrust his bowl under my nose, but bar snacks were the farthest thing from my mind.

Jack passed me a sealed bottle of water, reading my expression more accurately. “You okay?” he asked. Or rather, he mouthed it, because Louis had somehow wrangled his way into the DJ box and was choosing all his best—and loudest—favorites. “Did Seve find you? He looked disappointed you weren’t here when he came over. Wanted to know where you were.”

I took a long swig of the fresh water. “Yeah. He found me.”

Jack looked at me more carefully. “You talked to him?”

I didn’t want to get into this, not now, not here. I smiled back at Jack and pretended I was having more trouble hearing than I actually was. “Might go and get some air,” I mouthed. I needed to find somewhere I could think more clearly, without the beat of the music vibrating through the soles of my feet, without the tang of alcohol in the air making my mouth salivate, without Jack’s well-meaning questions, without… the imprint of Seve’s hand on my thigh and his breath in my ear. I turned to make my way out of the bar, but Jack caught my arm.