“Your mistake.”
Jasper snorted and rolled his eyes. “Need some help?”
“So you can blow up my kitchen?”
“I know how to cook,” Jasper replied, only mildly offended. Well, at least enough to know not to put soup on High and wander away for an hour. He raised an eyebrow when Vincent glanced at him with a dubious expression. “I’m not supposed to lie, remember?”
That seemed to convince Vincent. At least a little. “There’s cheese bread in the freezer. The oven is ready.”
Jasper found the bread and set the slices out on the pan to pop them into the oven. Then he actually saw what Vincent was making. “Spaghetti?” he asked, unable to stop the grin. “You mean you haven’t taken expensive cooking classes and know how to make a seven-course meal?”
“I wouldn’t waste the effort on someone who orders spaghetti at a Michelin star restaurant.”
Jasper blinked, thrown off guard more by the casual tone than the words. “There’s the dick I was warned about,” he murmured, moving back to the island. He knew he was so far below Vincent’s status it was laughable, but for some reason he hadn’t thought Vincent cared about that. Then again, once the clothes came off, who could even tell the trash from the elite?
“Is that why you always keep your suit on?” Jasper asked, crossing his arms on the granite countertop. “To remind your pets of their place?”
Vincent didn’t respond, but his shoulders tensed as he continued cooking.
For the first time, Jasper almost wondered if Matt was right. Maybe he was making a mistake. But maybe Vincent hadn’t meant that to sound as scathing as he had.
Jasper didn’t like the silence. It almost felt like Vincent was trying to avoid saying anything else in case it was as abrasive as the last. Or maybe he was as nervous to have someone in his home as Jasper was to be there.
He snorted softly at the thought.Yeah, right.
When the timer went off, he snagged the dish towel off the oven handle to grab the tray and transferred the bread to a plate, then decidedthat if Vincent was going to be a shit host, Jasper would fend for himself. He opened the fridge to find a drink and paused. Not only was it neatly organized, most of the fruits and vegetables were arranged in stackable glass dishes.
“There’s tea in the pitcher.”
“Oh, so you can still speak,” Jasper muttered under his breath. He pulled the pitcher out and poured two glasses.
Vincent filled two plates with spaghetti and set them on the table, glancing at Jasper as he sat. “What’s in your bag?”
“A change of clothes. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Deodorant.” He’d almost brought his schoolwork, but he’d managed to finish what little homework was due next week before the car picked him up. He settled across from Vincent, stirred his spaghetti a bit, and took a bite. It was good. Almost as good as the restaurant’s. He could taste the fresh garlic and basil. “You made the sauce yourself, didn’t you?”
“Is that a guess?”
“No,” Jasper replied with a grin. “But I thought you weren’t going to waste the effort on me?”
“Spaghetti sauce is a far cry from a seven-course meal.”
Jasper laughed, relieved when the tension between them finally disappeared. “It’s good.” The silence that fell as they ate was comfortable at least. He resisted getting seconds in case Vincent tied him upside down tonight, instead sitting back in his chair and sipping his tea.
Vincent stood and cleared the table. He returned a minute later with a fresh contract and pen and placed them in front of Jasper. “Any questions?”
Jasper set his glass aside, taking a slow breath as he leaned forward. “All this includes sex, right?”
“Do you want it to?”
“Yes.” Gods, yes.
“Then yes.”
Jasper shivered and nodded as he picked up the paper. Vincent put away the leftovers while Jasper read the contract. It was exactly like the one he’d left at home, except this one had his limits listed.
He took another breath and signed.
CHAPTER NINE
