“Anything else, Mr. Webster?” The server stood at his side with a silver pot of coffee. “Can I get you a fresh cup?”
“No, thank you. I’m good.”
He left the patio and, spur-of-the-moment, decided it was stupid to stay twelve hundred miles away. Chess needed him. Call it a sixth sense or intuition, but the pull to leave grew stronger as the minutes ticked by. There was no need to hang around and look at exercise and spa equipment when he had a spectacular staff they paid good money to handle the job.
Phone in hand, he pulled up his pilot’s number. “Tom? I’d like to leave by noon. Is that possible?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Webster. I’ll be waiting for you at the airport.”
“Thanks. See you then.” His next call was to Raoul. “I’m leaving you and your staff to the fascinating task of acquiring new gym and salon equipment. You know what people want. Send me pictures if you feel the need, but I’m going home.”
“Have a safe flight, and don’t worry. We’ve got it all covered.”
Pulse quickening, André headed to his suite to pack. Once he returned home, he and Chess would have a talk, and he’d reassure him that they were a team and nothing from his past could break them apart.
Chapter Seventeen
“This is the life, you know.” Spencer slurped the last of his margarita. “I could get very used to it.” He let out a huge yawn and stretched like a sleepy cat in the sun.
Chess glanced at Spencer over the top of his sunglasses and snickered. “Looks to me like you already have. That’s quite a bathing suit, by the way.”
Spencer preened. “Do you like it? It’s from Louis V’s new line, sold in Europe only.” Iridescent purple, the fabric barely covered Spencer’s ass and crotch. Which, Chess supposed, recalling how European men loved to wear the skimpiest bathing suits possible, made perfect sense.
“It makes a statement for sure.”
“Well, you know how it goes. It’s all about showing off the goodies.” He ran his hands over the expanse of his muscular chest. “Although God only knows what would happen if I got excited. It might rip apart.” He smirked. “Depending on my mood.”
“Not really a chance of that happening here. Henry is straight, and the only other man around at this point is Kyle.”
“Yeah. That’s so not happening.” Spencer rolled onto his stomach and pillowed his head in his arms. “When are Elliot and Wolf getting here?”
“Elliot said he was going to try to come tonight if Win didn’t get home too late. Wolf is in Florida on business, but the same for him. He’s flying home sometime today, and if it isn’t too late, he’ll come directly. If it is, then it’ll be tomorrow morning.”
“Mmm. It’ll be nice to all be together again.”
“I’m looking forward to André getting home as well. I’m hoping that’ll be before his mother gets here.”
“Why?” Spencer sat up and pushed his sunglasses over the top of his head. “Maybe she’s not all lovey-dovey toward you, but don’t you think she’ll be happy the two of you are finally settling down?”
In his mind, Chess would always be the outsider, no matter how sweetly Margery talked to him. She never relaxed that icy mask, though, not even when she smiled. It was all in the eyes—the warmth of her smile never melted the coolness of her gaze.
“I just…I don’t know. Maybe. She’s perfectly polite, but it never goes beyond that. I guess I was always hoping for more. Like how Win’s family is so happy he’s with Elliot. And I still feel she sent Kyle here to try and break André and me up.” The door opened, and Dottie walked outside with a large bowl in her hand.
“Boys, I have some nice shrimp salad for lunch. How does that sound?”
“Delicious. We’ll be right there.”
“Okay. I have to bring out the greens, fruit, and bread.” She disappeared into the house again.
With a roll of his big blue eyes, Spencer swung his legs over the side of the lounge chair. “That. Ain’t. Happening. Not only because I would’ve stepped up to stop it, but anyone with half a brain can see how much André loves you.”
It had been a long, mostly sleepless night in their king-sized bed, where Chess had wrestled with memories of Oliver and the countless other men he’d been with. His mother, too, had chosen that time to pop up, and he winced at the memory of the last time he saw her drug-ravaged face and body, barely recognizable from the woman he once loved.
“Are you doubting it?” Spencer cut into his thoughts, and he realized his friend must’ve thought his facial expressions were in response to the question about André.
“No, of course not. I’m looking forward to him coming home, is all. And having everyone together. It was nice hanging out with Henry and Bianca. I wish they’d spend more time with the family.”
He and Spencer walked around the perimeter of the pool and up the steps of the redwood stairs to the expansive deck. Once seated at the table, Chess served himself the shrimp and handed the bowl to Spencer.
