Sven just shook his head.
Royce had been a part of the security on Geoffrey’s case, so he knew very well what a handful the man was. Sven was welcome to him. Which brought his thoughts back to the rich playboy he’d be playing kissy-face with. Starting today, from the sound of it. He looked at Marc, only to find those sharp blue eyes back on him, his long, black brows nearly coming together in a frown. “Is there a problem?” Royce asked him. “Change your mind on using me?”
“No, not at all. I was just wondering if we should take a short detour and hit my tailor up for a few outfits for you.”
“What?” Royce knew his voice was little more than a growl, but the thought of someone playing sugar daddy—someone younger than him to boot—made his skin crawl. “You said artists are eccentric. My clothes should work. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing now. And hell, if I spend my time working in clay, T-shirts and jeans smeared with mud should be fine.”
“I like what you’re wearing now, and I agree that your day-to-day attire won’t matter. I was merely thinking of an art show opening in less than two weeks. It will require something more formal if you want to blend in. Do you have something for that?”
He didn’t, but he didn’t like that hoity-toity tone either. That earlier image of having this guy on his knees in front of him slammed back into his mind. This time, he was dressed in full-on black tie. “I’ll figure something out,” was all he finally said even as he wondered what his dick would feel like on that haughty tongue.Chapter FourThis was a huge fucking mistake.
Marc clenched and unclenched his hands on the steering wheel as he followed Royce to his house. He’d taken one look at the man, and he’d been thrown back to those dark days shortly after his parents’ deaths where he’d sought all the wrong kind of men. Men who’d shoved him, beaten him, and demeaned him at every turn, exchanging one pain for another just so he wouldn’t feel so hollow and useless. So much like a failure.
But he’d walked away from that life and those men. Turned his life around and made it into something his mother would be proud of.
Royce…fuck…Royce was a goddamn wet dream. Strong shoulders and arms and a compact body that screamed power. The kind of wiry power that could pin him down and…
Marc shoved the thought away and sucked in a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before slowly releasing it. His heart rate was slowing down from a panic, but it wasn’t doing anything for the hard-on in his pants. Being with Royce had to be penance for his past sins. One last temptation to make sure that he had truly walked away from that life.
He liked nice, sweet, considerate men who appreciated art and wine and fast cars now. He liked men who enjoyed travel and new adventures. He hadn’t had anything that resembled a working relationship in a few years and hadn’t felt anything that he’d call love, but he was sure that he could find a nice, sweet man to love.
Not someone who looked like Royce. A man who growled what he wanted and kept a cold distance from other people. Royce was hotter than hell, but Marc was willing to bet his London gallery on the fact that this man didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. And Marc wasn’t falling into that nightmare again.
The traffic was light for a Wednesday afternoon as they drove from Geoffrey’s house in Indian Hill to Royce’s place across the Ohio River in Fort Thomas, Kentucky. The winding streets finally ended in a new development of townhouses with neatly manicured yards and nicely painted trim. It was all kinds of bland and cookie-cutter. The entire neighborhood was surprisingly middle-class and boring.
Halfway down the block, Royce’s monster Jeep pulled into a short driveway while the garage door opened to reveal a stunningly clean and organized garage. Marc parked his black BMW sedan behind him and turned off the engine. He could do this. It was too late to walk away and pretend it wasn’t happening. Canceling his contract with Ward just because Royce stirred up too many uncomfortable memories was ridiculous and potentially deadly.
Geoffrey had gone on and on about how good the employees of Ward Security were, prior to Royce’s arrival. He knew several acquaintances and clients who used Ward for their home or office security. He’d gone to the best. And with any luck, Royce and Ward Security would have this threat sorted out in a week or two at most. Then he could go back to his normal life and forget about Royce.