Like on their long walk across Manhattan, the banter with Dixon relaxed Lawrence, and he actually found himself flirting a little, despite the decidedly unsexy setting. “You don’t quite match the decorating scheme here,” he said, then trailed his hand down Dixon’s chest, “although you would match my apartment. My bedroom, in particular.”
Dixon leaned forward, then whispered in Lawrence’s ear. “Careful. You look so cute in that pink tie I might not be able to resist having you right here. Now come on, introduce me to your father before it gets weird.”
Lawrence felt himself flush. Whenever he flirted with Dixon, it was one step forward, two steps back. But the heat between them was rising, and something about the date must have been screwing with his head. “Let’s go. And I apologize in advance for everything he says.”
The introduction wasn’t as much of a disaster as Lawrence expected. Dixon was perfectly charming and polite, and he asked the exact right questions of Lawrence’s father, inquiring after his business and complimenting his successes. Lawrence, for one, despised the business itself. His father was always covering up spills of environmental waste or flying across the world to manage the scandal of a newly revealed sweatshop, or quietly promoting the same men he knew were harassing the women who worked for them. It was disgusting, as far as Lawrence was concerned, and he knew from a young age that he wouldn’t be pursuing the careers his family legacy offered to him.
More than once, he’d almost walked away from the whole thing. When his father got a promotion and invested significant resources in opening new factories that would choke the environment, he’d almost turned his back on the trust funds and corporate salary altogether. But Lawrence had been able to do so much good with that money, too, and the nonprofit organizations and the people he supported had all come to rely on him.
What would be the point in throwing that away, just so he could feel morally superior?
Once the small gathering was moved to the long formal dining table, Lawrence and Dixon were shoved in the unimportant corner, away from the executives. Dixon leaned in close while Lawrence’s father was making a speech. “Who are those other men?” he whispered.
Lawrence smoothed the cloth napkin over his lap. “That’s Mr. Peterson,” he said, nodding to the older man who scowled next to his father. “And beside him is Mr. Mackey and Mr. Rios. They’re all big deals at Horizon Zed, too. They’ve worked with my father on all his most important projects.”
“I guess you know them pretty well?”
“Hardly. I barely even know my father. I remember hearing that Mr. Peterson has been in hot water lately, though. Something happened with his son. I’m not sure of the details, but it sounds like it messed up the research his division was focusing on pretty bad and cost the company a lot of money. There was even a rumor that his son was kidnapped for a minute.”
Dixon, who was reaching for a glass of water, coughed abruptly and almost knocked it over.
“You okay?” Lawrence whispered.
Dixon steadied himself. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Anyway, whatever happened, it tanked Mr. Peterson’s career. Mr. Rios and Mr. Mackey are still right up at the top with my father. They’re supposed to be launching some hybrid cell phone and tablet device together soon. My father thinks he’s going to change the world, whatever that means, but he complains about the other men. I guess Mr. Mackey is crappy at his job and only keeps advancing because he plays dirty.” Lawrence leaned a little closer to Dixon, dropping his voice as quiet as he could. “Not that Mr. Rios is any better. He hit me on one time, when I was only sixteen.”
“Gross,” Dixon snarled, then shot a glare at the man, sitting obliviously across the table.
“It was,” Lawrence agreed. “He didn’t threaten me, but still, he’s older than my dad! Some of those men have no shame.”
It felt good to be sharing secrets at the end of the table like that. And strangely, it felt really good to have everyone else glancing at Lawrence and Dixon and eyeing them like they were a real couple. Sure, his grandma had only given them a stinky glare, and his mother and father had lost interest in Dixon the second the introductions were over, as expected. But a couple of the business acquaintances gave them approving nods, like Lawrence had finally done right by bringing a proper gentleman home.
Lawrence would never have expected that to feel so nice. He didn’t give a shit about their approval, and he certainly wasn’t invested in selling Dixon to them. Hell, they hadn’t even slept together. But there was something fun about the fantasy of it, too. Like they were each other’s little secrets.
As servers brought out plates of steaming French food, uncovering each one with a flourish, chitchat filled the room. Lawrence entertained Dixon by telling stories about the senator who his father was chatting up, a young woman and rising star who worked closely with Horizon Zed. Once he ran out of gossip, he and Dixon cracked each other up by making up conversations for the suited men at the other end of the table.
“As a matter of fact,” Lawrence said in a deep, grumpy voice, staring right at Mr. Peterson, “I have never smiled, not even when I was a child. It’s a medical condition that makes my face this tight.”
“That’s funny,” Dixon replied, rasping underneath his breath as Mr. Mackey talked. “I have a similar medical condition.”
“Oh yes?”
“It makes my asshole muscles so tense, my eyes bug out. Do you see?”
Lawrence devolved into giggles. He pushed some of thecoq au vinaround with his fork, then glanced at Dixon out of the corner of his eye. His dinner companion had a warm smile on his face, more relaxed than the practiced grin Lawrence was used to, and when he caught Lawrence’s eye, he winked.
“I’m going to run to the restroom. Will you excuse me?”
“Down the hallway, second door on your right. That’s the closest one.”
“Thanks,” he said, then tossed his napkin on the table and disappeared.
A couple of minutes passed, and Lawrence drank from his big glass of pinot noir. He wondered for a second what Raiden was doing that evening. The fantasy of dragging him to the dinner party, too, gave Lawrence a weird thrill, and he laughed to himself as he imagined his bodyguard absolutely horrifying his grandmother.
When Dixon didn’t return immediately, Lawrence got impatient and excused himself. He headed down the main hallway, but the bathroom door was slightly open, and there was no sign of his date. Confused, Lawrence poked his head in the drawing room and the library, then headed up the stairs to the second floor, assuming he might have been directed to one of the other bathrooms.
As soon as he reached the landing, though, and opened the door to the second floor, he spotted Dixon, walking out of his father’s office.
