“Yo. It’s dinner time, asshole.” Junior poked him. “Get fuckin’ dressed.”
“Eat a dick.” Noah rolled over and ducked his head beneath the covers. He was so close to drifting back to sleep, but a hand closed around his ankle, promptly dragging him onto the floor. He grunted as he landed, staring up at Crybaby and Junior. “The fuck?”
“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Crybaby warned.
“Come on, drunky drunk.” Junior kicked his legs. “We even picked out a nice suit for you. Red fuckin’ tie and everything.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Noah was way too sober, his head hurt, and his mouth was dry. There was a part of him that had been hoping this was a screwed-up hallucination.
So much for that.
“Why the fuck does he wanna have dinner with me?” Noah asked. “Can’t I just stay here in my room and drink more?”
“Not my problem.” Junior shrugged. “If he fuckin’ wants yous to rub your balls in fuckin’ Crisco to grease up a pan to make a damn cake, all yous better ask is what flavor.”
“Wow.” Noah’s head throbbed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Get up.” Junior prodded Noah with his foot.
“Fine, whatever. Get off me.” Noah stood, shoving away Junior’s arm when he tried to help him.
“Fuck you then.” Junior snorted and pointed at the bathroom. “Your shit’s hanging up in there. Go get pretty.”
“Whatever.” Noah stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. He used the toilet, washed up, and stared down the suit his escorts had picked out for him.
It was black, sharply tailored for his muscular frame, and he’d only worn it once to some wedding last year. He got dressed, putting on the white dress shirt and slick black shoes that had been selected for him, but he ignored the tie. He had the weirdest case of jitters, like he was actually getting ready for a big date.
This was so stupid.
It wasn’t a date. It was dinner with the man holding him captive inside his own home who also wanted to kill his uncle. He didn’t even have a choice whether he went or not. He was pretty sure Crybaby and Junior would drag him downstairs or worse if he didn’t comply.
He told himself it was a chance to get more information about what was going on with his uncle and prove his innocence. He needed to find out what was going on so he could… well…
Who was he kidding?
He wasn’t a detective. He was a high school graduate who had no idea how to even cook a fucking omelet and apparently slept with lying, disgusting criminals.
And there was the spanking thing…
Pushing any thoughts of Alistair’s belt as far away as he possibly could, he sprayed on some cologne and exited the bathroom.
Junior whistled. “Princess cleans up good.”
“I would look good in a trash bag, please.” Noah rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ asshole.”
“Keep cussin’ at me and you’re gonna be goin’ out in one, ya fuckin’ feel me?”
“And I’d still look better than you.”
“I try to gives you a sincere fuckin’ compliment—” Junior seethed.
“Children,” Crybaby scolded. “For fuck’s sake, I’m about to beat the shit out of both of you. Let’s fuckin’ go.”
Noah considered it a win since Junior was pouting, and he held his head high as they headed downstairs to the dining room. His pulse fluttered, not at all unpleasantly, and he tried not to stare when he saw Alistair.
Sitting at the head of the table, Alistair was wearing a black jacket and a red dress shirt. He had flashy jewelry on as before, including a large garnet pendant. He looked very handsome, and the way he smiled at Noah made his breath catch.
The smile didn’t last, however.
