They heard the tell-tale sound of a lock clicking into place. He’d actually locked them in there. The psychopath. Enzo looked around the room, attempting to look anywhere but at Seven. Vince’s office was designed much the same as the club downstairs. Mostly black and gold with burgundy accents. But the illusion of opulence was lost with the messy desk piled with paperwork, a laptop, a Tiffany desk lamp, and…a set of fuzzy pink handcuffs?
“So…talk,” Seven said, hugging himself around the middle.
Enzo’s heart squeezed at how guarded he looked. Because of him.
“Have…have you been coming here a lot?” Enzo asked.
Seven shrugged, his voice nonchalant. “More than you.”
“How come?”
“How come, what?” Seven asked, turning away from him to pace.
“How come you’ve been coming here so often?”
“How come you haven’t?” Seven fired back. “Did you find someone stupid enough to sign your contract?”
“What? No. I-I’m not looking for anyone else,” Enzo said.
“Why not? You said it yourself. I lack training. Surely, there’s someone here well behaved enough for you. Someone willing to fuck you on demand for money.”
“Jesus,” Enzo said, holding his hands out. “You’re so harsh when you want to be. That’s notat allwhat I meant.”
Seven gave him a haughty look. “It’s what you said.”
Was it? Was that how it had sounded to Seven? “I thought you’d forgiven me for that whole contract thing.”
Seven glowered at him. “Did you?”
“Yeah. You kissed me at my mom’s house.”
“Youkissedme,” Seven reminded. “I was drunk. I was in a…weakened state.”
He was drunk? He hadn’t seemed drunk. A little…overwhelmed, maybe. But not drunk. Enzo was an asshole, but he never would have kissed him if he’d thought he was too drunk to consent.
Would he?
Fuck. Seven had him questioning his own morals. His own ethics.
“I didn’t know you were drunk,” Enzo murmured. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I’d known. I wasn’t trying to…take advantage of you.”
Seven sighed, his face softening. “I know you weren’t. I wasn’t mad at you.”
It felt a little like an olive branch. “You weren’t?”
“Not about that,” Seven retorted, wandering to the sofa and sitting down.
Enzo followed, glancing at Seven hesitantly until he nodded to the opposite side of the couch. Enzo sat, making sure to keep distance between them.
“Are you still mad at me about the contract?” he finally asked.
Seven shrugged. “I already told you to forget about it.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Enzo said. “You barely talk to me at work.”
“Yet, that hasn’t stopped you from leaving little offerings on my desk every single day.” When Enzo’s face heated up, Seven said, “You know everyone can see you, right?”
Enzo studied Seven’s face, but he gave away nothing. “Do you want me to stop?”
