“Twink troubles?” Mac asked, following his stare.
“Yeah.”
“He breaking your heart?”
Michael shook his head. “No. If my heart breaks, it’ll be my own fault.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Mac asked.
“Because I care,” Michael said before downing the tumbler of brandy that had been put before him.
“Shit.” Mac sighed heavily. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to sleep with the kid. I should have known you didn’t have it in you to do the no-strings thing.”
Michael shook his head. “Honestly? I’m glad you did encourage me to have fun with him.”
Michael half smiled as Jag finished his routine in his normal pose. For a second the young man looked his way. They locked gazes and Michael’s world stood still, the noise of the club falling away. His increased heartbeat thundered in his ears. His chest tightened painfully at the thought of ending his arrangement with Jag, and in a flash, Michael knew what he had to do.
* * *
He went to the shower room to meet Jag, as normal but didn’t let the young man get as far as even starting to undress.
He held his hand out. “Let’s go to my office.”
Jag raised an eyebrow and then glanced down at his torso, which was still covered with a thick layer of silver, as was the rest of him, no doubt. Michael couldn’t think about that right now.
“Get hot and sweaty first, then shower? Good idea.” Jag smirked. “But I’ll make a mess of your nice suit.”
Michael resisted the urge to sigh. He’d guessed Jag would behave this way, as though nothing had happened the night before, but this wasn’t the place to discuss any of it.
“Come on.” He turned and walked to his office, not looking back to make sure Jag was following him.
Once there, he leant against the desk. Jag waited in the doorway, fidgeting.
Michael held his hand out again. “Come here.”
He didn’t really expect Jag to comply, but he did, coming close enough that Michael could put his hands on his hips and draw him closer.
“I need to say a few things,” he said, pausing as he felt Jag stiffen. “I need to be honest with you.”
“No.” Jag’s hand pressed against Michael’s mouth, no doubt transferring silver smudges to his lips. “I’m happy with the lie you told me last night.”
Well, at least Michael knew he definitely hadn’t fooled Jag. Gently, he moved Jag’s hand away from his mouth. His hand became coated in a sparkling silver sheen.
“I’m not.”
Jag clenched his teeth.
“I care about you,” Michael said. “And I can’t pretend otherwise.”
“You don’t know me,” Jag hissed.
“Don’t I?”
Jag became even more rigid, his muscles so hard beneath Michael’s fingers he felt like a statue as well as looking like one.
“I don’t have to know about your past to know who you are now.”
Jag blinked slowly, the only thing proving he was a living, breathing man and not an effigy cast out of silver.
