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“But first…”
Lyndon pressed his chest against Spencer’s back. His assistant held a Lexington snifter atop his tray with a perfect two fingers of their finest cognac. He recalled Cole saying he’d be home alone drinking a cognac if he was not at work.
“A Remy Martin Black Pearl for you.” Spencer slid the short stem of the glass between his middle and index finger and placed it in Cole’s hand, letting their fingertips graze each other.
It took some effort, but Spencer redirected his attention to Cole’s friend, studying him through narrowed eyes. He had a talent for reading men—powerful men.
“And for you, Mr.…”
“Paddock, Gerald Paddock, regional manager of Burbank Jewelers,” he finished with a bit more pride than necessary.
Great. Another narcissist.
Cole rolled his eyes and grumbled something Spencer couldn’t make out. He didn’t have the luxury of being rude to a paying guest, but it didn’t stop him from insulting them in his mind.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m going to treat you like my personal VIPs tonight.” Spencer cut his eyes toward Cole. “Since you brought me such a fine Christmas gift.”
Gerald laughed loud enough to draw attention.
“You’re most welcome. But don’t direct the special attention towards me. I’m just trying to be a good brother. Cole is one person who shouldn’t be alone on Christmas. No one should.”
Spencer swallowed to conceal how much that statement resonated with him. The silent nights last week, home alone on Christmas tomorrow, it was a lot. He’d been blinking away tears all month at others celebrating and making plans with loved ones.
Spencer turned and pulled Lyndon close to whisper in his ear.
“Are you okay?” Lyndon asked.
“I’m fine, sweet boy. Stay focused.”
Lyndon nodded and buried his sweet face in Spencer’s neck, listening to his instructions.
On the outside looking in, it appeared he and Lyndon had something going on, but it was all just visual stimulation.
Spencer slid his hand up the center of Lyndon’s chest until he got to his throat. He brushed some nonexistent lint from his assistant’s collar, smiling softly against his cheek before he left.
Multiple sets of eyes followed Lyndon’s ass when he walked away… except Cole’s.
“He forgot to take my drink order,” Gerald accused.
“No, he didn’t. He’ll be right back with your glass of Macallan, Mr. Paddock.” Spencer smirked at Gerald’s surprised expression. “You seem a distinguished man who enjoys a rare, aged whisky.”
“I do.” Gerald nodded. “You are good at your job, Spencer, I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you for the compliment. That’s high praise from a man of your caliber, Mr. Paddock,” Spencer lied, pumping up the regional manager’s inflated ego for a bigger tip.
Spencer knew his job and how to work it to his advantage. He didn’t have to take customers anymore after becoming floor manager. Sergio would only request him to serve the most elite to ensure they returned. Like Cole Burbank.
The act Spencerusedto perform for his clients often left him vulnerable. He was so damn good he’d started believing his own hype, believing the sweet talk from those closeted posers. And he’d paid the ultimate price.
Now, Spencer left his heart outside this place, promising himself he’d never date another customer again.
Cole
He remembered what I said I’d be drinking.
Cole hid a pleased smile behind his sip of cognac, trying not to appear so flattered. Call it a hunch, but he had a feeling that Spencer was not an easy man to impress. He seemed to loathe wealth—it was all around him—and that was a rare quality Cole found intriguing.
It was almost impossible for him to find a man only interested in him,nothis bank account. But the world was so saturated with greedy people he’d given up hope years ago.
