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But something about him…
Not that I’m interested. Not at all. Just… I liked the way he looked at me. The hint of a smile on those full lips, how he was unaware the bite of his dinner fell off his fork. He looked… fun.
I don’t do fun. I never have. I’ve never had the inclination or the time.
I’ve met his father on a few occasions, and several more that a man of Dalton Steele’s standing would never admit to. I’ve seen his name on the client list of E, not that I would ever share that information with his son.
Not that I’ll ever see him again.
He’s friends with Marcus, though—not that I know Marcus on a personal level. After focusing my real estate portfolio on nightclubs, I was interested in starting one from scratch rather than taking over an established one. I found a building for sale, but while I was readying my business plan, Marcus and his partners swooped in and bought it.
I could have offered more, but Noam advised me to invest and learn from them instead of doing it myself.
I gave them money and in return, am getting knowledge of how to build a club from the bottom up so that next time I can do it on my own.
I’ve got plans for Tingel Island, so it’s been a good experience working with Coulter.
So while I’ll no doubt see Marcus, there will be no plans to cross paths with Maximus Steele again.
Unless I want to.
Noam’s breathing deepens. He’s quite lovely to sleep with: doesn’t snore or make strange noises, doesn’t crowd me too much, and he smells good. And if I’m honest, it is nice to have a body beside me. But…
The man holding me would be happy with anyone. Yes, Noam cares for me, but it’s the love of a father, of a mentor. He’s a wolf who adopts a bird—happy to see them learn to fly but never really accepts them as one of their own.
I’ve had many men hold me while they sleep, but has there been anyone who really knew me? Who knew my dreams, what I ached for? And I have I known any of their dreams?
Loneliness is as dark as the room and heavier than Noam’s arm across me. It’s not a nice feeling.
I’m… lonely.
Heat pricks my eyes at the realization.
I don’t like feeling this way. Usually, work takes up all of my available bandwidth so I don’t have time to consider what may be missing in my life.
What’s missing is a life.
What are you doing for fun?
Nothing. I don’t do anything for fun. My life has become a series of precision moves and countermoves, with the sole purpose of increasing my business empire.
I have amassed an empire, but at what cost? There’s satisfaction from the deals and beating out men who underestimate me. I like the money, since it means security and safety. Other than that—I don’t have much.
Thankfully, my eyes begin to grow heavy, because I don’t want these thoughts to keep swirling. I’ll stay for another ten minutes and then head down to my room. Noam might like to fall asleep with me, but he gets up at an ungodly hour and is too much of a gentleman to force me to wake with him.
The routine is to make sure he’s asleep and then go home. Or to a hotel room, if Noam is here on business.
He never mentioned what business brought him into town this time.
That is my last thought before I fall asleep.
6
Maximus
My head spins a bit as I step into the elevator. The Tate Continental is luxury, comfort but too shiny for my style.
“Who names their hotel chain after themselves?” I wonder aloud as I stab the button for my floor. Full disclosure—it does take a long minute for me to remember what floor my room is on.
