Luke grinned, looking so damn pretty and youthful that Nate had an uncomfortable thought that he might be jailbait. But surely Demidov wouldn’t date someone underage, right?
“It’s just obvious that you’re still at the ‘Does he or doesn’t he?’ stage, when everything is still new and exciting and a little weird.” Luke’s expression turned wistful. “I remember that—I remember getting shivery and tingly from Roman’s every touch.”
“And now you don’t?” Nate said, trying to shift the conversation to a less uncomfortable topic.
Luke smiled a little. “Oh, I absolutely do. But now it feels weird when he isn’t touching me. I’ve just moved on from the infatuation phase to the ‘he’s my home’ phase. You’ll get there, too.”
Nate almost laughed at that. Luke was horrible at reading people.
“So you’ve been together for a while?” Nate said, steering the conversation back toward Luke. “You aren’t… You aren’t actually all that young, then?”
Chuckling, Luke shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I’m older than you are, mate. Don’t let my baby face fool you. Roman and I have been together for years.”
Before Nate could say anything, they reached the beautiful patio on the lakefront. Dinner was being served there, and the other guests were already helping themselves to the delicious food.
Nate’s stomach growled, very loudly—he hadn’t eaten anything besides a few strawberries since the morning. He flushed in embarrassment, but Luke gave him an understanding look. “I know, I could eat a horse right now.”
Demidov smiled, pulling his lover into the seat next to him. “I’ve tried horse meat in Uzbekistan. It was surprisingly tasty. You should try it sometime.”
“Don’t be gross, Roma,” Luke said, pulling a face, which only made Demidov laugh.
After a moment’s hesitation, Nate sat down too and started filling his plate. He studiously ignored it when he felt Ferrara take the empty seat beside him.
“Pass me the salt,” Ferrara said.
Nate passed him the salt without looking at him.
He stabbed a piece of chicken on his plate and put it in his mouth. Chewed. Ferrara shifted beside him. Nate poured himself some juice. Drank it.
Ferrara sighed. “Stop being ridiculous,” he said quietly, just for Nate’s ears.
“I’m not doing anything,” Nate said, still not looking at him.
“I didn’t think a few kisses would finally shut you up.”
A few kisses? More like dozens of kisses.
“Oh what, you would have done it months ago?” Nate said snidely.
“Here you are,” Ferrara said, sounding satisfied, the prick. It confirmed Nate’s old suspicion that Ferrara found his bitching entertaining and it was the only reason he tolerated it.
“It was your idea,” Ferrara murmured.
Yeah, don’t remind me. He hated that it always turned out that way: Nate always thought he could finally outplay his boss, get the upper hand, but Ferrara always managed to adapt superbly and turn the tables. Even now he looked completely at ease already, as if Nate hadn’t stunned him with his kiss.
Nate scowled and focused on his food, resolved to ignore his insufferable boss.
But fuck, it was impossible. His senses were hyperaware of everything Ferrara did, his ears straining to hear his conversation with the woman to his right. They were conversing in low tones, the woman smiling widely and playing with her hair as she looked Ferrara in the eyes.
Nate pursed his lips, a little annoyed. Of course he and Ferrara weren’t actually a real couple, but the woman didn’t know that. Why the hell was she flirting with a supposedly taken man while Nate was right there? It was utterly shameless. And it was utterly shameless the way her dark eyes kept roaming over Ferrara’s muscular chest—the asshole hadn’t bothered to button his shirt up. Show-off. It wasn’t that hot in the evening, the weather was perfectly pleasant.
Well, Nate should probably take issue with their flirting, right? If they were a real couple, he wouldn’t have let someone else flirt with his partner so shamelessly. In fact, it would probably be weird if he didn’t put an end to this.
“Raffaele,” Nate said. He paused, the name feeling weird on his tongue. He’d never called his boss that even in his thoughts. Never allowed himself.
Ferrara turned his head, something like surprise flickering in his eyes. Maybe he was as startled by the use of his first name as Nate was. “Yes?” he said.
Nate brushed his fingers over the other man’s chest before slowly buttoning up his shirt. “You’re being rude, babe,” he said sharply, trying to sound jealous. It was easy. Much easier than he’d expected. Maybe his acting skills were better than he’d thought. “You should have told this very nice woman that you’re taken before she could get her hopes up.”
The black eyes just gazed at him for a moment before Ferrara’s lips curled a little. “There’s no need to be jealous,” he said, leaning in and kissing him on the lips.