“I can’t keep using my own. I need something with the same consistency…like glue.”
Thomas nodded. “I’ll sort it out.”
“Why…why help me?”
Thomas snorted. “Because you so desperately need it.” He sobered. “I told you, I’m bored and have nothing else to do and…I think it might be quite fun bossing you around in the bedroom, and my God, do I need some fun in my life.”
“You do look pretty miserable.”
Thomas pinched him.
“Ow,” Scott hissed. He bit his lip. “But…”
“But what?”
“Idon’tsound like a dying animal when I groan, right?”
“That was harsh,” Thomas admitted. “Maybe not a dying one…but one with severe stomach cramps and wind.”
“I hate you.”
Thomas’s black lips spread into a wide smile. He climbed off of Scott, then offered him his hand. Scott allowed Thomas to haul him back to his feet.
“I hate you too,” Thomas replied. He grinned. “Now let’s make £100,000 in a month.”
Chapter seven
Scottdidnotexpectthe nine-o’clock wake-up call the next morning. He lifted his head from being face down in a pillow and grunted in the direction of the door.
Thomas was dressed for the day in a pair of blue jeans and a black top that had the word DIRECTOR in bold white font.
“If you were my employee, I would’ve fired you for incompetence.”
“Wha…?”
“I thought your working day started at nine?”
Scott mouthed the word ‘director’ before replying, “It does.”
“It’s currently three minutes past nine.”
“Is it?”
“And you’re not dressed, or washed, and haven’t had anything to eat.”
Scott remained fixated on Thomas’s T-shirt. “Did you just buy that?”
Thomas looked down at himself. “No, I’ve had it for years. I was wondering when it would come in handy.”
Scott scrubbed his eyes. “Why would you buy that?”
“When you’re rich, you buy a lot of shit you don’t really want or need.”
“About that…why are you so rich? You never told me.”
Thomas tilted his head and went back to glaring.
“Did you inherit? Are you secretly a drug lord? Or a really good thief?”
