“Now you’re going to be forthcoming?” Rich snapped. “Only after I saw a man halfway to fucking you against your sink?”
“I’m a grown man,” Foster said. “I can get fucked against my sink if I want to.”
“So, New Year’s guy?” Sam asked.
“Sage,” I said quietly for him. “His name is Sage.”
Foster’s cheeks turned a dark crimson and he took a drink of his wine.
“I can’t tell you everything,” he said, “but I’ll tell you as much as I can.”
And that was how we all confirmed Foster Golden killed people for a living.
Chapter Fourteen
Kevin
Three days after my punishment, I leaned over the kitchen counter, mindlessly stirring a microwave bowl of macaroni and cheese. I couldn’t sit, or I could…but I didn’t want to. The marks Ronan had spanked into me still throbbed beneath my skin, and I didn’t need the reminder that would come from sitting on my ass. Work had been hell, alternating bouts of sitting for as long as I could bear it mixed with hours hunched over my drafting table.
Thankfully, I’d been on site most of the day with Ben, meeting about the renovations on the Savino-Sharp project. I’d spent some time touring the progress with Jared, the foreman, as well, ensuring everything was being handled in specification with the client’s design preferences, and when I’d returned home, Ronan was asleep in bed.
He’d worked a double to cover for another doctor at the hospital, and I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t think he’d done it on purpose. Even though he’d literally smacked some sense into me over the weekend, things didn’t feel like they were quite back to normal. I couldn’t be sure of whether it was because of me or because of him, but I didn’t see a way to make it right. Frowning, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called the only person I thought would understand.
Sam.
He answered on the third ring, a little out of breath, but soft and friendly as always, “Hey there, Kev.”
“Sam,” I greeted.
“What’s up? Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” I tangled my fingers through my hair and dropped my cheesy fork onto the counter. I fought back a momentary flash of stupidity, wondering what on earth I really thought a twenty-something kid would have to say that could help things with Ronan and me.
“One second. Sir,” Sam said, a scratching sound filtering through the phone. “It’s Kevin.”
I heard Rich say something, then Sam let out a quiet gasp and cleared his throat.
“Sorry. Are you there, Kev?” he asked.
“I’m here. Did you need to go?”
“No,” Sam laughed. “I have a break.”
“Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” he promised. “We just have some…things planned this weekend and Richard was giving me a preparation list.”
“Do I want to know what a preparation list is?”
“I’m pretty sure you can connect the dots, Kevin.” Sam chuckled. “I have some time, though, so what’s up?”
“What do you do when things are weird?” I blurted.
“When what’s weird?”
“Things with Rich.”
“Things with Richard don’t get weird,” he said.
