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Well, damn. Small world.
“Matteo D’Angelo,” I said when Micah turned toward me. We shook, but Micah’s touch didn’t rile me up like his little brother’s did.
“Micah Fox,” he introduced himself, “and this is my wife, Jasmine.”
I noted the collar around her neck and bit my tongue to keep in the I know that threatened to spill, which would have turned the moment into an uncomfortable one. I chose to greet his wife with a smile and nod since I wasn’t aware of their dynamic and didn’t wish to overstep possible boundaries by offering her my hand.
Micah sat in the empty chair on Cooney’s other side, and his wife curled up on his lap, her face buried in his neck. Someone was feeling needy.
Again, my heart ached with envy as I watched her snuggle in her Sir’s arms.
“Are you new to Chantelle’s?” Micah asked, his blue eyes similar to Sean’s flitting over me without a hint of interest, simply sizing me up.
“No, but this is my first time back since my wife passed three years ago.”
A frown dented Micah’s brow. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“For what it’s worth, welcome back, and I hope you find what you must be feeling you need once more.”
I appreciated Micah’s bluntness. “I’m not sure I’ll ever truly be ready, but the stirrings are definitely there.”
He smiled, popping a dimple just like Sean’s.
Arousal slid through my veins and not because of the man sitting across from me.
“Did the rumor mill find your ears?” Micah asked Master Cooney.
The giant redhead simply raised an eyebrow.
“A client is trying to extort Elite.”
Master Cooney’s eyebrows furrowed deeply, denting his forehead. “What?”
Micah glanced at me, but I sat still and unassuming, hardly a threat—that he knew of. His Dom intuition must have found me to be someone he didn’t need to worry over because he went on to explain to his friend about a past client delivering images depicting a beating that one of Micah’s employees claimed didn’t happen. The man wanted two million, or he was going to leak the photos to the press.
I wasn’t a detective, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out exactly what kind of business Micah and Sean Fox ran. No judgment swam through my mind. Everyone had to make a living, and some people required the privacy of secretive hookups in order to find release denied to them in their day-to-day living.
Did Sean’s exhaustion come from managing Elite outside his schoolwork, or…
The memory of him in a tux headed to “work” detoured my mind down the second path. With his blatant sexuality and his love of men, I realized he must take an active part in Elite outside the office.
I readied for disgust to fill me, a turning off of the switch Sean so easily flicked on inside me.
Nothing happened other than for acceptance to settle more firmly in my mind. I didn’t care how Sean made his money, only that he didn’t burn himself out between school and his responsibilities for Elite.
“What do you do for work?” Micah interrupted my thoughts, and I realized I’d sat in silence for a lengthy time.
“I teach finance at Boston College.”
A grin split Micah’s face, yet another expression he shared with Sean. “My brother Sean went back to school this year for his MBA.”
“Sean Fox,” I stated his name, feeling as though hiding the truth of knowing Micah’s brother might prove more troubling than not. “He’s in my Financial Accounting class on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
He’s also the delicious bane of my existence, the reason I realized I’m not as straight as I’d always assumed and that I’m ready to move on from consuming grief.
“How’s he doing?” Micah asked. “Is that something you’re able to discuss with a non-faculty member, or am I overstepping a moral code of sorts?”
