Spencer’s eyes grew wide. “What’s your real first name?”
“Victor. I was Victor Lupo Jr.”
“Oh…I remember that case. It was one of the first I saw televised. You don’t look like a Victor. I like you as Wolf.” His eyes darkened. “It must’ve been terrible for you. What a nightmare.”
“It was.” He passed a hand over his eyes to block out those pictures in his head. “It is.”
“You know you’re not like him. And you aren’t responsible for what he did. The sins of the father aren’t visited on the child, not in this case.”
“Maybe.”
Spencer grasped his arms. “Not maybe. Definitely.”
“When I read up on the trial, I decided I had to help the kind of people my father exploited. I thought maybe if I’d work for the people without a voice, it would make it better somehow, you know? But it hasn’t really helped much. Every minute it gnaws at me. A couple of months ago, he came up for parole. And for the first time since he was taken away, I saw him.”
“Jesus, Wolf. You went to the hearing?”
“No. The partners here arranged for a live feed so I could view it. I had to tell them who I was when they hired me. I wouldn’t have felt right if I hadn’t. And though he looked older and grayer, that arrogance hadn’t diminished. He was cocky as fuck, and I wanted to reach through the screen and throttle him with my bare hands.” He shook. “Thank God they denied it. And now he’s dead anyway.”
“How do you feel about that? Relieved, I bet.”
It hurt to smile. “You’d think. I’m angry. I wanted him to spend more time behind bars and suffer. When I heard he was dead, I thought I’d be satisfied and suddenly life would be normal. But I’m not. All I feel is empty. I feel nothing at all.”
“That’s not true.” Spencer cupped his cheek. “The man who kissed me earlier certainly felt something.” A wicked, teasing smile broke across his face. “I have the bruises to prove it.” Spencer nuzzled into his neck. “I love hearing you moan with pleasure—the pleasure I give you. I love holding you as you come all over my hands. You feel something when you get hard as I touch and lick you, don’t you?” Spencer feathered kisses over his face, and Wolf’s control slipped.
“Yes, dammit. You know I do.” His attempt to twist out of Spencer’s hold was thwarted by Spencer’s deathlike grip on his hands.
“How the fuck would I know that? Every time we get together, we end up in each other’s faces, fighting about something stupid. Now it all makes sense.” Spencer kissed his neck, and Wolf wished they were home so they could get naked.
“Wh-what does…stop doing that. Not here. What happened before was a—”
“Don’t you dare fucking say it.” Face flushed and eyes glittering, Spencer dived in and covered his mouth, and despite his words only moments ago, Wolf sighed and sucked on Spencer’s tongue with greedy abandon, until Spencer pulled away and Wolf sat blinking stupidly. “Are you going to tell me it was a mistake again? After what we just shared here? You’re going to do that to us?”
He touched his tingling lips. “It was.” Wolf watched Spencer pale and hurried to finish. “Only because it’s at my office. Not because I don’t want you.”
“Call it a beautiful mistake, then, because I’ve never seen anything more gorgeous than your face when you fall apart. And I’d do it all over again to make you feel that way.”
He framed Spencer’s face between his hands. “I won’t deny it anymore. I can’t. No one else has ever made me feel this way.” Finally, he’d said the right thing, as Spencer’s face lit up in a way he wanted to bottle and keep forever. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Anything. Whatever you need from me.” Spencer kissed the palm of his hand.
“Will you come with me to pick up my father’s ashes? I don’t think I can do it alone.”
Chapter Seventeen
Watching Wolf close out his work, Spencer remained silent on the couch in his office. The events of the day tumbled around in his mind, and he couldn’t focus on any one of the remarkable stories Wolf had confided. His entire life was almost too incredible to believe.
And yet it explained so much.
All his little idiosyncrasies—the single-minded dedication to his work at the expense of a personal life, his refusal to enjoy himself at college, denying himself any pleasure—all were signs they’d missed, and Spencer was angry with himself for not taking those cues seriously.
How lonely he must’ve been, locked away in a prison not of his making. At least Spencer had been lucky enough to have his mother to turn to for comfort, but Wolf sounded like the proverbial poor little rich boy Spencer had always scorned.
Another myth shot to hell that afternoon.
“You know, if you have to get back to work, it’s okay. You don’t have to come with me.” Wolf’s fingers clicked on his keyboard, and his computer shut down.
No way would Spencer allow Wolf to retreat behind the hard shell he’d grown for protection. “Shut up. Don’t be an idiot.” Spencer rose to his feet and peered into the mirror to straighten his tie.
