Could it be one of the Dads? Matthew didn’t have all their numbers in his phone. If something had gone wrong between his father and Damien, it wouldn’t be all that far of a stretch for one of them to reach out and let him know.
Fearing the worst, Matthew grabbed his phone from the bedside table where it had been charging and read the message.
Hello mystery boy! Are you with Damien right now?
The exclamation point was too chipper to be from the war zone, plus the number had a 212 area code, which meant it was from New York. As far as Matthew knew, the only Single Dads who lived outside the city were Damien—whose number this was not—and Harley, who lived in California. Confused, Matthew answered the question with one of his own.Who are you?
Three texts hit his phone almost all at once.
Oh, it’s me. Nadja!
Damien’s personal assistant.
You know, the super gorgeous, incredibly talented woman he’s no doubt been chatting about nonstop. The one who’s going to be getting that cushy 5% raise?
The name didn’t ring a bell, but there had to be some parts of Damien’s life he’d yet to divulge. Matthew didn’t doubt that Damien had hired help. A man as busy and important as he was had every reason in the world to keep a personal assistant. Matthew added her number to his contacts in case he ever needed to get back in touch, then flipped back to their conversation.
Another text from Nadja had arrived.
Okay, okay, I’ll admit that Bigg probably isn’t talking about me nonstop. He must be too busy getting busy with you, am I right? ;)
A queasy feeling clenched in Matthew’s stomach. In an attempt to escape it, he squirmed under the sheets for shelter and considered what to do. Nadja likely meant nothing by what she said, but there was an undercurrent to the way she spoke that was belittling at best and creepy at worst. They didn’t know each other—why was she cracking sex jokes?
Matthew groaned and buried his face in the sheets. It was just like him to be awkward and make a huge deal out of everything. Nadja was trying to be funny. It wasn’t like she was sitting by the window in the building across the street, a lit cigarette in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other.
Not wanting to cause a scene, Matthew replied in a polite but guarded way.How did you get this number?
I’ve got cloud access to all of Bigg’s contacts, silly. I noticed it pop up while he was coming home from Fiji. It’s not every day he saves a new boy’s number with a profile picture as cute as yours
The reply did nothing to make Matthew feel better.I’m sorry to be rude, but why are you texting me?
Oh, right. That’d help, huh? I’m trying to get in touch with Bigg, but all of my messages keep getting marked as failed to send. Usually I wouldn’t worry about it, but shit’s gone south and he needs to be made aware
What kind of shit?Matthew clutched his phone a little closer to his chest and tucked the blankets around himself until he was cocooned.
I don’t know if I should tell you if you’re not there with him. Can you deliver the message for me?
Yeah.Matthew raked his teeth over his lip. It wasn’t a lie. If what Nadja had to say was urgent, he’d head to the venue and find somewhere out of sight to wait until he had the perfect chance to speak to Damien alone.
For a brief moment, there was nothing. The speech bubble at the bottom of the screen didn’t notify Matthew that a text was being written, nor did the read status on his message change. It had to be a glitch, because all at once a wall of text appeared.
Bankes is up to no good. Luczak’s been trying to call all morning, but something must be screwy with Bigg’s phone because nothing’s going through. Apparently, Bankes found out that Bigg’s out of town for personal reasons and went straight to Whitcroft with the news. It’s BAD. Like, Bigg’s going to come back home to find himself unemployed bad. He needs to get on the phone with Whitcroft right now for some damage control before it’s too late.
I’ll go find him and tell him, okay?
Thank you. You’re saving his ass.There was a pause.But… speaking of saving Bigg’s ass… can I say one more thing?
Sure.
Matthew didn’t wait for Nadja’s reply. He tossed his phone onto the Damien-replacement pillow and squirmed out from beneath the blankets. One foot, then the next, hit the chilly hardwood. Matthew shivered.
Before he got dressed, he’d need to shower. The aftermath of his several hours in bed with Damien still slicked his ass, and now that he was standing, it had started to drip down his thighs. Even though he planned to stay hidden, showing up anywhere near his father while reeking of sex was a bad idea.
Matthew collected his discarded clothing. By the time he was done, Nadja’s next text had arrived.If you care about Bigg at all, you should leave him.
Matthew stared at the text in silence. His hands shook and his throat clenched. The words on the screen were just that—words—but it didn’t stop them from hurting.
Who did Nadja think she was? She didn’t know him. She didn’t know their situation. She didn’t even know his name. The only tie she had to Damien was that she worked for him.
