Nate shifted his gaze away from her to his boss, whose eyebrows were quirked.
“You gossip about me with your sister,” he said. “I’m flattered.”
“Oh, fuck you. So is she right?” He lowered his voice, mindful of the old woman. “Because I’m serious: I’m not sucking your cock again.”
“Your sister is wrong,” Ferrara said.
Nate gave him a suspicious look. “You have to admit it’s pretty weird that you’re taking me with you on what is essentially a vacation in one of the most beautiful places on the planet.”
“It will hardly be a vacation. The negotiations will involve seven executives of seven different companies. They’re just being held in an informal setting.”
Nate narrowed his eyes. He was hiding something. Nate could feel it.
“And are all of those execs bringing their PAs with them?”
“I would hardly know, would I?”
When Nate just gave him another suspicious look, Ferrara sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I’m taking you with me for a very specific reason. But it has nothing to do with making you suck my cock.”
“What reason?”
“Roman Demidov is in a relationship with a man. Making him think that I’m like him would make it easier to build rapport with him and—”
“Wait, what?” Nate said. “You want us to pretend we’re in a relationship?”
Ferrara shot him a rather pinched look. The plane started moving. “When you put it that way, yes.”
Nate laughed.
Ferrara’s expression shifted into one of annoyance. “What’s so amusing?”
Nate just laughed harder. “You—in a relationship—with me!” He laughed so hard his ribs started hurting, but he couldn’t stop. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.
“Stop. Laughing.”
The look of supreme irritation on Ferrara’s face just made Nate laugh harder.
He stopped laughing only when he felt the plane pick up the speed.
Oh, fuck.
His amusement was gone so fast, it gave him whiplash.
Nate swallowed, looking at the scenery passing by, faster and faster. His stomach tied into knots, his palms feeling clammy.
“You look green. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of flying.”
“I don’t—I didn’t know,” Nate croaked out, trying to ignore the way the plane trembled. “This is my first time on a plane.”
Ferrara stared at him incredulously before cursing in Italian.
They were about to take off. They were about to leave the safe, sweet ground and become a giant tin full of people flying in the sky—
“For fuck’s sake,” Ferrara muttered, and grabbed his trembling hand. “Breathe. Calm down. That’s an order.”
Nate breathed, staring at the strong, darker hand gripping his pale hand. Ferrara wasn’t gentle at all. But it was fine. His strength was reassuring. His insufferable bossiness was familiar and—god help him—comforting.
His hand was warm, dry, and firm.
Nate focused on it, on the calluses he could feel, on the subtle, familiar scent of Ferrara’s aftershave.
He breathed.
It was fine. It would be fine. Millions of people traveled by plane every day. Nothing happened to them. He was being silly.
“It’s never going to work,” he managed, trying to distract himself from the fact that they were going to be thousands of feet in the sky. “Your plan is ridiculous.”
“And why is that?” Ferrara said, gripping Nate’s hand harder as the plane took off.
Fuck, it took off.
They were airborne.
“Because…” Nate swallowed. Breathe. “Because they’ll never buy it.”
“Why not?”
Nate chuckled distractedly. They were higher and higher, the clouds the only thing visible now. He breathed deeper, taking a lungful of his boss’s scent. “Because you don’t even do relationships. You have no idea how they work. And you and me?” He chuckled again, meeting Ferrara’s dark eyes. “It’s just ridiculous. No one will buy it.”
Ferrara didn’t look fazed. “You weren’t wrong when you claimed that you know me better than ninety-nine percent of people. I don’t see why they wouldn’t buy it.”
Trying to ignore the disgustingly pleased feeling caused by Ferrara’s words, Nate shook his head. “I can claim that I know you better than most people do, but that actually doesn’t mean much, because you don’t let people close. Couples have a certain intimacy in their interactions—”
“You have sucked my cock,” Ferrara said flatly. “It doesn’t get much more intimate than that.”
Nate scowled at him. “I’m not talking about that kind of intimacy. Sex doesn’t equal emotional intimacy. You should know that better than anyone.”
Ferrara shrugged, conceding his point. “Then what do you mean?”
“People in relationships… they touch each other outside of sex—”
“You touch me all the time. In fact, you’re touching me right now.”
Nate glared at him, but he had to admit Ferrara did have a point. As his PA, Nate was used to touching him and being manhandled by Ferrara all the time.
“Still,” he grumbled. “People in relationships smile at each other and stuff.”
“Your arguments are getting more illogical by the minute,” Ferrara said, smiling condescendingly.
Asshole.
“Your superior smiles don’t count!” Nate argued, playing with Ferrara’s fingers absentmindedly as he tried to come up with better arguments. How could he not see that it was a terrible, ridiculous idea?