“Sorry,” Odie said calmly. “Can’t think of anyone.” He tilted his head and smiled. “Oh, except for Howard Medina. But I heard he had an alibi. A slutty one who threw himself all over—”
“Odie,” Alistair warned sharply.
“Oh, fuck you—” Noah snarled.
“Noah.” Alistair pulled Noah’s arm with enough force to drag him back on the couch. “Apologize. Both of you.Now.”
“I’m sorry,” Odie said right away with a bat of his eyes. “I don’t like people yelling at me, Mr. Star. I get so upset. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“I’m aware of your delicate temperament, Odie. Please accept my apologies.” Alistair’s grip tightened on Noah’s arm. “Had I known that Noah would behave this way, I would have never bothered you.”
“If I’d known Odie would be so fuckin’ useless, I wouldn’t have ever come,” Noah grumbled. He hissed in pain when Alistair squeezed down and didn’t let go. “Okay, okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’m fuckin’ sorry!”
“Try again, dear Noah.”
After taking a deep breath, Noah said as calmly as he could, “I’m very sorry, Odie, for wasting your time.”
“Apology accepted.” Odie smirked.
Temper still boiling, Noah struggled to keep his mouth shut before something else stupid came out of it.
“Oh, but just to be clear, Odie?” Alistair raised his brows expectantly.
“Yes, Mr. Star?” Odie said, still positively smug.
“You should be very careful,” Alistair warned. “Throwing words around like that? Slutty, I believe it was? I’m afraid that while my own temperament may not be as delicate as yours, I do find that sort of language very upsetting.”
“Mr. Star—”
“Insult my boy again, and there will be severe consequences.”
“Yes, sir.” Odie’s smug expression vanished.
Noah did his best not to pump his fist and cheer.
“Good.” Alistair smiled. “I’m so glad we understand each other. Now we can all be friends again.”
“Of course, sir.” Odie managed to resume his cocky attitude and acted as if the exchange never happened. “You know, speaking of Medina, I do seem to recall a little something. The night Carbone was killed, Medina asked me out.”
“Did he?” Alistair raised his brow.
“Yes, Mr. Star.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him no, of course. I’ve had my fill of your employees, Mr. Star.”
Junior’s upper lip twitched.
“Thank you, Odie.” Alistair let go of Noah’s arm and reached for the wine. He poured much more than the proper five ounces, saying firmly, “Junior, please let Harrison know I’m not to be disturbed. Dear Noah and I are going to have a little chat about his manners.”
Oh, fuck.
Noah was almost instantly hard, a rush of shame and lust surging through his core.
A little chat most certainly meant a punishment, and Noah’s mind spiraled at the possibilities.
Would Alistair use his hand? His belt? What was he going to do?
