Dorian watched with invested interest, then once Josh straightened back up, he grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him close to meet his lips in a deep kiss.
Josh melted into him, panting softly as Dorian pulled away. When he noticed us watching, his face turned red, and he said something to Dorian. Dorian laughed, took his hand, and dragged him up the drive.
The front door opened again, and soon after, I heard a pair of footsteps climbing the stairs.
Josh walked in first, cheeks still tinged pink, although a bit lighter now. “Hi, guys. Thanks for having us—” He stopped mid-sentence. “Why are there people tied up?”
Behind him, Dorian stepped into the room.
His eyes landed on the accountants.
He tilted his head slightly, then an amused expression took over his face. Looking at me, he said, “Looks fun.”
Josh slowly turned to look at Dorian. “I thought you said this was a game night,” he whispered harshly.
“I said the same thing, kid,” Wes griped.
Dorian’s eyes flicked back to the men in the chairs.
One of them had started crying again, his shoulders shaking in small, helpless tremors. The other had gone very still, staring at all of us like a rabbit that had just realized the foxes were discussing dinner plans.
Dorian studied them for a moment, then looked at me. “So,” he said casually, “can we start?”
Wes made a strangled noise.
“No,” I said brightly, before my husband could have a coronary. “We’re still missing people.”
Dorian’s gaze shifted toward the windows. “The twins?”
“And Oliver,” I added, sliding into one of the dining chairs.
Greyson leaned against the sideboard, arms still folded, watching the captives with calm interest. “Running late,” he mused.
“Shocking,” Wes muttered.
Lane had wandered closer to the table now, curiosity getting the better of him. He peered down at the accountants with open fascination, though he kept a polite distance.
“Oh, they look terrified,” he cooed.
“That’s because they are,” I said.
“What did they do?” Lane asked, knowing the unofficial code I’d started living by. I refused to be to others what Elias had been to me.
“You’ll know soon,” I told him. “I don’t want to start until everyone is here.”
Lane nodded and walked around the table, slipping into the seat to my left. He saw the tray of snacks and looked at me pointedly, to which I grinned and pushed it closer to him.
Josh, meanwhile, had not moved from the doorway.
He was staring at the bound men with growing concern, his brow furrowing deeper by the second.
“Ronan,” he said carefully, “what exactly are you planning to do?”
I waved a hand dismissively as I watched Lane pick up cheese slice after cheese slice with a contented look set on his face. “Nothing too terrible.”
That was technically true.
Although “too terrible” to me was more than likely a far cry from what I imagined his interpretation to be.
