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Victor shook his head. “I’m a simple man with a lot of money. Anything you’re missing, we can go buy.”
Oliver knew Victor was anything but a simple man, but he didn’t have time to compose an argument proving him wrong. He just shook his head, then locked up after Victor stepped over the threshold and started for the stairs.
Heading down to the car felt strange, and Oliver realized it was because he hadn’t slept away from his apartment in a long, long while.
His place was almost like a security blanket—having this thing that was just his. Something no one could take away. But leaving with Victor didn’t feel as terrifying as it might have if he were heading out with anyone else in the world.
It was a bizarre thing to think about for a man he’d only met a couple of nights ago, but it was what it was.
And he’d already signed his soul away on the dotted line.
Chapter12
Victor had promised dinner,but Oliver wanted a little while to unwind at the rental, so they headed back, and Victor excused himself to the terrace to take a couple of phone calls. Oliver knew the man’s life was in shambles after catching his ex cheating, but he was curious how bad it was.
Victor was carefully avoiding any and all topics about his actual life, which Oliver was trying to respect, but it wasn’t easy. The pain in his body was obvious from the way he carried himself, and Oliver was far from a therapist, but he knew keeping it all inside wasn’t going to do him any favors.
Still, he wasn’t being paid to push.
Instead, he took his time setting up his suitcase and unpacking the few pieces of clothes he didn’t want wrinkled. There were plenty of hangers in the walk-in closet, so he set his stuff up, then stared at Victor’s suitcase, which was still on the bed, his clothes in a heaping mess.
Oliver didn’t want to overstep, but he couldn’t help himself at the sight of things so disorganized, and by the time Victor came looking for him, he was halfway to hanging and refolding all of Victor’s things.
“Is this part of the service?”
Oliver’s head whipped over, and he rolled his eyes. “It can be if you want. I just thought I’d…I don’t know. Do something nice?”
Victor raised a brow, using one hand to brace himself on the dresser as he took a couple of steps into the room. His legs were moving more stiffly than they had been, and Oliver wondered if it was from the sex.
“You can judge me. I can be kind of a slob.”
“No maid service here?” Oliver teased.
Victor huffed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “My life isn’t like the movies, you know.”
“But youdohave a housekeeper,” Oliver chanced.
“Fine. Yes. I have a housekeeper. But I don’t have a personal chef or a chauffeur. I don’t have a butler who cuts my food into nice bite-sized pieces and feeds me.”
Oliver choked on a laugh. “Oh my God. Do you know anyone who does, because I want a dinner party inviteimmediately.”
Victor’s face went sunny with his smile, and he reached for Oliver, who came easily into his arms. “No. I don’t know anyone that ridiculous. Like I said, most of my circle is corporate execs and politicians. And a couple of plastic surgeons, who are definitely the richest ones among us.”
Oliver couldn’t imagine that life. He’d never wanted to imagine that life. His clients were usually upper middle class, digging into college funds and shit to pay for their illicit meetings. As far as Oliver was concerned, Victor was one of the richest men in the world.
“Did I make you uncomfortable again?”
Oliver sighed and let Victor tug him onto his lap. He seemed to need a lot of touch as reassurance, and frankly, Oliver would have paidhimfor the privilege. He pushed his fingers into the back of Victor’s hair and scraped gentle nails against his scalp.
“It’s just different than what I’m used to. And giving people shit is my love language.”
Victor huffed, but he was smiling even as he leaned in to kiss the crook of Oliver’s neck. “I’m an open book, angel. Ask me whatever you want.”
Oliver let out a trembling breath, pressing himself into the soft kisses. They were easy affection—not leading anywhere, not promising or denying anything. They weren’t some sort of transaction. And that made his chest ache.
“Um,” he said, trying to drag himself out of the spiral, “why did you spend so much on a rental for such a tiny owner’s suite?”
Victor froze, the tension in his body becoming even more obvious. “I…didn’t.”
