“I mean,” Michael said. “I don’t have anything else on this evening. Lead the way, little bro.”
Dillion Thomas lived in a surprisingly decent house in the suburbs, courtesy of his parents. He opened the door and then very quickly tried to slam it in their faces.
“Is that any way to treat a friend?” Michael complained, shoving his foot in the way. “Hi, Dillion.”
Dillion swallowed. He eased open the door again, looking up at Noah guiltily.
“I didn’t do anything,” he mumbled. “I haven’t even seen him since the semester ended.”
“Right,” Noah said. “Because Michael stopped paying you.”
“I shouldn’t have even given you that money,” Michael said. “You never delivered. That painting sold for a pretty penny, Dillion.”
Dillion squinted at them suspiciously. Something like hope was dawning in his mousy face.
“I can do better next time,” he said dubiously. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”
Noah’s fists clenched. He could suddenly think of nothing else but Dillion’s sneering face as he called Benji those ugly names outside that bar.
He breathed deep, calming himself. Then he nodded at Michael.
Michael laughed. “What am I, your attack dog?”
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” Noah reminded him coolly. “I can’t be bruised.”
Dillion stepped back fearfully. “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”
He tried to pull the door closed yet again. Noah stopped it this time, slamming it open with his full strength. It bounced off the wall, making Dillion jump.
“What are you doing?” he yelled as he stumbled back into the house.
“Arranging a wedding present,” Noah replied, stepping back to let Michael through. “Let’s make this fast, Mikey. I have to take my boys out for a celebration dinner.”
CHAPTER 18
Everything was perfect, and Benji was suffering.
“You look great,” Daphne assured him as he fluffed up his hair for the dozenth time. “Quit touching it! We’ll have to get the stylist back in!”
“I’ll touch whatever I want,” Benji snapped, glaring at the phone resting on the counter in front of them.
Daphne took a judgmental sip of free champagne. “You aren’t getting cold feet, are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Benji told her. Although it wouldn’t be unlikely, he considered as he straightened his bow tie over the collar Noah had buckled onto him this morning. He did take a long time to accept Noah’s proposal, after all.
“It’s not that,” Benji said sourly. “The wedding is perfect.”
It was true. All the wedding disasters weren’t coming to pass: the catering was ready to go, as was the wait staff. There was apparently something up with the flower delivery, but Noah had taken care of it. The venue—a church that had been converted into a gallery several years ago—was so beautiful Benji had spent most of the rehearsal dinner gaping at it. His suit was gorgeous and fit like a glove. The guests were here, all five of them, even though the ceremony didn’t start for an hour.
Daphne dropped into the chair next to him and tugged the gorgeous, tasteful green cape enveloping his shoulders. “Oookay. So, what’s the problem, sugar?”
Benji gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to say it. It sounded stupid, even to him. But he had just been getting more agitated as the day went on. He felt like he was going to explode if he waited one more minute.
“So, Noah and I are trying this thing,” he admitted in a rush. “Where I don’t come for a month before the wedding.”
Daphne’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Wow! Like, not at all?”
“Nope. Can’t even get hard. Wearing a chastity… thing.” He suddenly didn’t want to say cage, which was stupid. He was wearing it, so he should be able to talk about it. He was a grown man who routinely did BDSM; he should get to talk about it to his best friend.
