“I’ll call every goddamned number in this phone.”
“If you do that, you’ll be putting Arden in a very difficult position. And a dangerous one. Many of these men aren’t out to their families or their wives or anyone else for that matter. I don’t think I need to spell out for you what could happen to him. And I can’t protect him.”
“Of course not. Why would you? He’s disposable to you.”
“That’s really not fair. Arden is an adult. He makes his own decisions.”
And wasn’t that the kicker because I knew it was true. Arden took risks, no matter how reckless or dangerous. And I couldn’t stop him.
“You’re going to pay for this,” I said like a stupid cartoon villain and ended the call. Matteo’s name flashed on the screen a few seconds later, but I ignored it. I scrolled through Arden’s contacts and found more numbers than I cared to consider.
What the fuck was I going to do now?
18
the reason
There wasn’t much conversation on our way to Matteo’s penthouse the next morning, though I did confess to Arden that I’d called him the night before. Arden was not pleased.
“Why would you do that, Michael?” he said, as though I was the one in the wrong.
“Leave him, Arden,” was my terse response. “Leave all of this behind. Start over with me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me. What does he have on you that you cannot let him go?”
“I can’t… it’s not like that.”
He’d let me come as far as the sidewalk café near Matteo’s building but no more. We argued on the street until it became heated. Until Arden nearly stormed off.
“I swear to fucking god, Michael, you will sit your ass down in that chair and order a drink while I go up there and try to fix this thing with Matteo.”
“Fix what thing?” I shouted. I motioned to his eye, which had bloomed overnight into something dark and ugly. “End it with him, Arden. It’s over. Cut the fucking cord.”
Fuck, I was quoting my father now? And I realized I was the problem—that was how Arden saw me, at least. The one screwing up all of his big plans.
“Wait for me here,” he said with more control. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“If you’re not down here in half an hour, I’m calling the police.” I stormed over to the café and planted my ass in one of their flimsy metal chairs. I tracked his uneven gait to Matteo’s, still trying to mask the fact that he was hurt. Christ almighty. I set the timer on my phone and ordered a bloody Mary even though it was still early in the morning.
What would I do if nothing changed? Would I leave him? No, probably not, but I would certainly make my best case. Perhaps get Franco involved. Arden couldn’t live the rest of his life indebted to this man, no matter the perks. It was outrageous that Matteo expected it. Perhaps that was part of his Medici fantasy—to keep a beautiful man like Arden as some kind of sex slave. Well, fuck that.
Arden returned in less than the time I’d given him, and I took it as a good sign. He collapsed in the seat across from me and popped the top few buttons on his shirt. It was hot as hell and not even noon. I was about to inquire about their meeting when Arden began speaking.
“When I went to Brown, I was a fish out of water. I was poor—had always been poor. My vocabulary was shit. All of my clothes were second-hand and hardly fit me right. I was an eyesore in all respects.”
I doubted Arden could have been considered an eyesore, but I wasn’t going to interrupt him for that minor point. He swallowed, causing his elegant throat to jog, while I studied him in silence.
“But I was a quick study. I learned about lacrosse and rowing and skiing—the rich kid sports. I spent my scholarship money to mimic their understated boho-chic clothing. I maxed out my credit cards so that I could fake like I was one of them. Christ, I even learned a whole new manner of speaking. The language of entitlement.”
He shook his head ruefully. Arden was seldom bitter, and he rarely spoke about his past traumas. I was afraid that the slightest movement on my part might spook him, so I remained quiet and still.
“But even with all of my efforts, when that stupid sex tape started circulating, everyone assumed I’d done it for a passing grade. It never occurred to them that it was consensual and that I was already doing well in the class. I was once again a white trash Florida hick, and they treated me like garbage.”
“Fuck them, Arden. You know that’s not true.”
“But it is true, Michael. I wasn’t raised like you and your friends. They all know you’ve lowered your standards to date me. Even Franco. I’ll never have what you have. I’ll always be scraping the bottom of the barrel in order to survive.”
