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“Do you work here alone?” Tobias asked.
“I… yes, today I’m alone. How did you know where I work?”
“And why wouldn’t I know that?”
“I never told you the address.”
“Correct.” Tobias walked around the living room, brushing his fingers over furniture and tools.
“I’m rebuilding most of this floor,” Anthony said, too uncomfortable to be quiet. “I took down a wall because it blocked the sunlight, and I’m building one over there so they could have another guest room.”
“I see.” Tobias stopped in front of Anthony, who was still holding a hammer, his clothes dirty and clinging to his sweaty body.
How am I supposed to act?
This was the real world, where men didn’t walk around with collars, where he wasn’t being fucked until his consciousness hung by a thread. This was uncharted territory.
“You seem good at your job,” Tobias said. “When a man is passionate about his craftsmanship, it shows.”
“Thank you.”
“However, you’ll need to wrap things up for today. We have tickets to see a Broadway show in an hour.”
Anthony frowned. “What?”
Tobias took a step forward, stopping in front of Anthony. They weren’t physically in the club, but Tobias still commanded the room. “Which one of my words confused you?” He added a small smile.
“You want to take me to see a show?”
“No, Iamtaking you to see a show.” He placed his palms on Anthony’s shoulders, his thumbs slowly stroking his neck. “Last time we met, you mentioned that none of your friends wanted to go with you to see a show. Did you expect me to ignore such a tragedy?”
“Hmm… yes?”
Tobias laughed, the sound warm. “I don’t ignore what the people I care about say. We will need to stop by your apartment for you to shower and change. No need to dress up on my account—I won’t be fond of any fabric that covers your body.”
Somehow, Anthony had no doubt Tobias knew where he lived, and the feeling of wariness resurfaced. But it seemed like he was going to see a Broadway show, and yes, he was excited.
“Let’s go.”
*
He was dying to tell Ethan about the wonderful storm that had taken over his life, but doing so meant also talking about the club, and worst of all—about his secret relationship with Chris. He couldn’t do that because Chris would kill him.
If Anthony were, hypothetically, to share with Ethan about the man who was becoming a major part of his life, he would have undoubtedly mentioned the roses. They were delivered to his apartment every other day when he took time off from the club. Attached to every bouquet was a handwritten quote from a poem. He had never gotten poems before, nor had he gotten roses. He read every poem a dozen times and memorized each line until he had no choice but to admit that he didn’t much care for poetry.
But that didn’t matter because something special was happening. There was no denying that.
*
I’m so freaking high.
It was hard to believe that after staying clear of drugs his entire life, he was willingly allowing people to drug him. By now, it wasn’t even a topic worth discussing. Tobias or Dima would give him a drink with something extra that took over his body and mind, transforming him into a higher dimension. Flying was the closest he could come to describing the feeling, yet he never flew far enough to drift away. The ground always waited to take him back a few hours later without any side effects.
Right now, lying on a leather sling in a dim room somewhere in the club, he was high as a kite. The soreness in his asshole was unpleasant, but after so much sex in the past couple of months with Chris, he could handle almost anything.
The men who had sex with him tonight had been hand-picked by Tobias, unlike the rest of the toys who were being passed around freely. Anthony had never spoken with any of them, and he didn’t like the glares they sent his way like he had done them wrong.
He rarely slept with anyone other than Tobias. Most nights, both of them would go directly to the private room on the top of the world, where hours would pass in the blink of an eye.
