Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“I know.” He mustered the strength to squeeze Amani’s hands. “But I’ll be all right. I’m fixing this. I am.”
“When?” He’d never heard that pleading note in Amani’s voice, hoarse and broken. “You feel like you have some obligation to your company because of your family, because of expectations, but why does it have to be you? Why can’t you just…walk away?”
“I can’t. I just…can’t.”
Yet he could no longer explain why, when right now…
Right now, lying here in the disarrayed remains of his tuxedo, an IV in his arm, duty and responsibility just felt like excuses.
Was he going to die for excuses that, at the end of the day, meant nothing at all?
“You won’t have any choice when high blood pressure turns into a heart attack,” Amani countered. “Fuck, I thought you were having one, I just…”
A choked sound, the sudden snatched withdrawal of Amani’s hand, dragged Vic’s eyes open just in time to see his lovely Master clap both hands over his mouth as though he could catch his deep, rasping sobs and force them back down his throat, yet nothing stopped the tears spilling over his lashes, coursing down his cheeks to gather on his fingers. Vic tried to reach for him, but his arm didn’t want to respond, barely lifting off the bed before falling again.
“Don’t cry,” he begged. “Not over me. It was just a hypertensive episode, Amani.”
“Just?” Amani gasped out. “You can’t fix yourself if you’re dead, Vic.”
He didn’t know where he found it in him to smile. “So concerned for me.”
“Don’t you dare!” Slim hands clenched into furious fists, wet-glazed eyes glaring, snapping. “Don’t you dare try to brush this off—”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Amani. Come here. Please.”
He managed, even though it sent pain lancing up his chest, to lift his arm and extend it to Amani. After several trembling moments, Amani fell against him, burrowing against his side and burying his face in the crook of his arm. Vic let his arm fall, draping heavily, but holding his pretty little Master as close as he could, turning his head to breathe in the scent of the wilted vanilla orchid still woven into his hair.
“This is my normal,” he murmured into that soft tumble of hair. “I’ve been dealing with it since I was nineteen. Usually as long as I take my pills every day and use the nitroglycerin for emergencies, I’m fine. And emergencies don’t happen often.”
Amani’s entire frame shook against him, and for the first time…for the first time, no matter how small his Master might be, Vic saw Amani fragile, undone. “One happened while we were…while we were…”
“I’ve had a long day,” Vic soothed. “Those fundraisers always stress me out of my bloody knickers and annoy me until it’s a miracle I don’t burst a vessel. I could feel my blood pressure ramping, and I should’ve said no.” He wished he had the strength to pull Amani deeper into his arms, cradle him and comfort him, but he could barely move himself, couldn’t risk the IV in his arm—and so he only kissed that soft hair over and over, trailing down to nuzzle and nose at Amani’s temples, his wet and salt-tasting cheeks. “Are you blaming yourself?”
Silence answered more than any words. Vic pressed his brow to Amani’s, curling his fingers in the back of that beautiful gown that had made Amani into a bit of fractured starlight, captured and held in a moment.
“No, Amani. Things just happen, and it’s no one’s fault. I overexerted myself at the wrong time. It’s not your fault. Promise me. Promise you won’t pull back from me because of this. Being with you is saving my life.”
Still Amani remained silent for so long, until his voice drifted listlessly from the hiding little bundle he’d tucked himself into. “You’re paying me, after all.”
“Don’t say it that way.” Vic couldn’t handle the lurching palpitation of his heart right now, the way it stole his breath. “Please, Master.”
Amani lifted his head, red-rimmed eyes searching him so intently. “It’s not fair to ask me that way. You know I can’t say no.”
Vic dragged out a small smile. “Makes you wonder who really has the power here, doesn’t it?”
The question was an olive branch, a safer topic, and when Amani just looked at him for a moment he was afraid, desperately afraid, that it would be the last straw, that his need to deflect and avoid this would send Amani running away from him, and this time he’d never come back.
But with a sigh, Amani sank down against him, resting close and draping an arm over him and giving him his body heat, his weight, the comfort and solidity of his presence. “That’s part of what makes this kind of thing work,” he said quietly. “It only looks one-sided from the outside.”