“I’m not embarrassed,” he blurts out, kissing the back of our joined hands. “I want everyone to know we are together. Why would I be embarrassed to be seen with my boyfriend?”
Biting back my smirk, I turn as the door opens and walk across the tile floor, my heeled shoes slapping into it as we go. People stop and bow as I pass, but I ignore them. After all, they show that respect out of loyalty and fear. We pay our workers double salaries compared to other companies and give them better benefits. All we ask for in return is loyalty, and we get it one way or another.
The guard at the door scrambles to grab the handle and hold it open for us.
“Mr. Xander. Sir.” The man bows as we cross in front of him, lifting his head to look at Nikko for two seconds too long. Stepping in front of him, I narrow my eyes, and his face pales. Nikko steps past me, and when he’s outside, I turn to Yuki, who followed us down in a different elevator.
“Fire him,” I order as I head out to join Nikko, who’s looking back in confusion.
“Everything okay?” he asks, not understanding.
“Fine. Just ensuring nobody messes with my future,” I tell him with a smile.
His brows furrow in confusion, and I step closer. Gripping his chin, I tug itdown and press my lips against his for everyone to see. “You, you’re my future.” Letting go, I walk toward the car. When I reach the door, I turn back to see him staring after me, wide-eyed and shocked. “Well, are you coming?”
“Coming!” he yells as he rushes after me, stumbling before righting himself. I smile at how cute he is.
He has no idea what a possessive bastard like me would do if someone tried to take him from me.
Once I’ve decided something is mine, I own it completely, and Nikko is no different.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“I’ve missed having this house filled with laughter,” Zia’s father comments as he sits back after demolishing two plates of desserts despite Zia demanding he stop. It seems apart from me, he’s the only one who can get away with ignoring Zia’s orders. I find this extremely amusing since it annoys my boy, and he’s so cute when he’s angry.
“Good, I’m glad,” Zia mutters, still glaring at the plates. I’m surprised they don’t spontaneously combust from his anger. Gripping the nape of his neck, I lean in and kiss his cheek.
“He’s happy. Don’t be mean,” I caution.
Sighing deeply, Zia spares me a look and then addresses his father, who is watching us intently. “Fine, but no dessert tomorrow.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” his dad teases with a sparkling grin. “As I was saying, I’ve missed hearing laughter.” He leans in. “But you can go home, Zia, and take Nikko with you. You’re young, and you need your space?—”
“You’re sick?—”
“I’m not dying. I’m fine. I just had a moment,” he dismisses angrily. “I’m not a frail old man. Besides, you surrounded me with guards and doctors.”
“Still,” Zia protests, and his father cuts him off with a wave.
“You can visit. In fact, I’m demanding you do so. Our meals still stand, but I want you to be happy, Zia, not taking care of me. I’m fine. Please, go home and enjoy your time together. I will behave. I promise.”
“You never behave,” Zia argues as he stares at his dad. “I worry.”
“I know, son.” Reaching over, he covers Zia’s hand with his. “But you can’t live your life like that, not for me. You need to live it fully and happily.”
Zia is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, his tone is sad. “I don’t want you to be alone,” he admits.
“In this big house? I’m never alone. Stop worrying about me, okay? It isn’t your job. I want you to act your age. Make mistakes and have fun. You never got to be a child because of who we are, but I’ll be damned if I let you miss this part of your life as well.” His father points at us. “Go home, that’s an order . . . if you still respect them.”
“Always, Father.” Zia bows his head. “You will always be the lead Xander.”
“Good, then listen to me. Go home and take your boyfriend with you.” He looks at me with a wink. “You can thank me by coming back to keep this old bastard company every now and again.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod, and his eyes narrow. “I mean Father.”
It’s clear Zia isn’t pleased about it, but he stands and sighs. “I’ll get our stuff.” He hurries away.
“I’ve given you the opportunity, seize it,” Father tells me. “Make him love you and then lock him down.” He offers me his palm for a high five, and I quickly give him one. “I want at least four grandchildren.”
