“No,” Silas answered.
I scratched the side of my nose, not ready to make the ask I needed. “My brother. He doesn’t know how I am. The way I am with you.”
“He doesn’t know you’re a Dom.”
“Among other things,” I said.
Silas paused. “Is this your way of asking me to not out you when he’s here?”
“Yes,” I said. The door to the restaurant opened and the recognizable silhouette of Smith’s narrow shoulders filled the frame. “I’m sorry to ask you to compromise this part of yourself right now?—”
He cut me off, an indiscretion I’d punish him for later.
“Not calling you Sir doesn’t compromise anything,” he said thoughtfully. In the background, Lincoln made wet, kissy noises. “My submission doesn’t change whether I call you Marshall or Sir.”
Lincoln made a dry heaving sound.
“I do love the way you sound when you say my name, sweetheart,” I said. Smith was close, back in earshot, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Smith is ready to go now. We’ll be home soon.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Silas said softly, before adding, “Marshall.”
CHAPTER 27
SILAS
It had been a really long time since I’d spent the entire day with Lincoln, and getting fired by my dad had sucked, but doing absolutely nothing with my best friend all day was exactly what I’d needed.
After getting off the phone with Marshall, I turned my attention back to the pasta I’d put to boil since I was still responsible for myself and for Lincoln, who sat at the counter with his chin perched in his hands.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“You can tell it wasn’t.” I arched a brow at him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to play nice. You heard him. His brother…doesn’t know.”
Lincoln chortled. “Would kind of be weird if he did, right?”
“A bit, yeah,” I agreed.
The pasta was tender, so I carried the pot to the sink and dumped the contents into a strainer. Lincoln was strictly a butter and cheese kind of guy, so there wasn’t any sauce to bother with. I mixed the pasta with half a stick of butter and a few spoonfuls of the most expensive-looking parmesan flakesI’d ever seen in my life and served us both up. There was enough left over to feed Marshall and his brother, though I doubted either of them would be hungry.
“I know his brother, actually,” I said, climbing onto a stool to sit at Lincoln’s side. “From college.”
“Is he cool? Is that weird?”
“He was quiet then. A little moody. And why would it be weird?”
“Because youknowhis brother now.”
“I didn’tknowSmith,” I corrected, rolling my eyes. “He was cute, but it wasn’t like that.”
Smith Covington had been angry at the world but pretty enough to get away with it, and I was curious to see how he’d matured since freshman year. I didn’t even know if he remembered me from school or if he just recognized my name from the work I’d done as an adult.
Either way.
“I just realized I’m still in pajamas,” I groaned, shoveling a bite of pasta into my mouth before reluctantly peeling myself away from the counter.
“So?”
“So I don’t want to meet Marshall’s brother for the first time dressed in his gym clothes.”
