“My point is that you of all people should know what a manipulative dickcheese he is. Therefore you shouldn’t be theleast bit surprised that he weaseled his way into the good graces of the man he tried to screw over.”
Cole quirked his lips. “Point taken. And I’ll probably give myself a migraine trying to imagine what kind of bullshit mental gymnastics he did to accomplish that weaseling.”
“Exactly. The bottom line is that Alders wants the Puffin back. More than that, he wants you and Yarmouth drawn and quartered over it. He’s pissed that something was taken from him, but he’sincandescentwith rage over being humiliated.”
Cole winced. Yeah, that tracked. Losing material items was something that could be dealt with through insurance claims, tax write-offs, predatory investments, or—as was Mother’s preferred approach—seven-figure retail therapy.
Losing dignity? Social standing? Respect,especiallythe respect of the ultrawealthy who Aldersdesperatelywanted to call his peers?
That warranted bloodshed.
And if Marcus promised to help facilitate that bloodshed, he’d worm his way right into Alders’s buttcrack without the man ever even suspecting Marcus had been the mastermind of his humiliation.
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered.
“I know,” she said. “But before you give yourself that migraine trying to imagine how Marcus made this happen, because Iknowthat’s what you’re doing”—damn, she was good—“let’s cut to the part where wedealwith this.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” He paused. “Let me call you back on FaceTime. I think we should loop Will into this.”
“Loop—holy shit, Yarmouth isthere?”
“Um. Yes?”
She whistled. “Wow. I thought Lilith was exaggerating when she said you’d teamed up with him.”
It was a weird feeling, knowing that very recently, he’d have grumbled and sworn and begged her for a solution that allowed him to ditch Will. It was an especially weird feeling to have on top of the irritation he was still carrying over Reed cockblocking him earlier.
Christ. One job gone wrong, and now he was running from an oligarch who’d recruited his taint barnacle of an ex to exact revenge on him and Will Yarmouth… who Cole really should’ve let fuck him before he made this call.
Taint barnacle? God, I really have been around Will too long.
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “Let me call you back on FaceTime.”
The response was an ended call.
Cole exhaled hard, pushed himself to his feet, and jogged upstairs to the bedroom. “Hey, this is going to take all three of us to?—”
He halted in both step and sentence when he saw what waited for him in the bedroom.
The man who’d slept beside him last night was sprawled in the middle of the mattress, not a stitch of clothing in sight. He was fully hard, his hand and dick both gleaming with lube. There’d been a huge grin on his face, too, but that vanished when he met Cole’s eyes.
“All three of us?” Will’s hand stopped mid-stroke. “We’re having a threesome?”
“We’re… We…” Cole gaped, and he couldn’t help gazing longingly at Will’s hard-on before forcing himself to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m supposed to call Desiree back.” He waved his phone in the air. “On FaceTime.” He swallowed. “So we can loop you into the conversation.”
“Oh.” Will gulped, glancing down at his now flagging erection. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat and sat up. “Guess I should put on a shirt.”
“Or some pants, maybe?”
“Right. Yeah.”
Cole bit back a frustrated groan, which also helped him tamp down a laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the situation.
A moment later, they were sitting on the edge of the bed. Cole held his phone out far enough to fit them both in the frame, and he called Desiree back.
“So how exactly have you two not killed each other?” Then she squinted. “Wait, is that a bedroom? Are you two, like?—”
“Can we please focus on Marcus and Alders?” Cole groused.
