Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Tate grinned. “So no playroom called the Franklin Whore Central?”
Oh goodness. Despite the embarrassment that flooded me, I managed to crack a joke. “That’s what we were naming the cigar room too.”
Kingsley laughed, a warm, rich, gorgeous sound.
But no. Definitely no naming anything after me in their kink community’s headquarters. Our kink community, I should say.
It was called Mclean House, and unfortunately, there’d been a fire a few weeks ago. I’d only been there once. The building was a grand Victorian, three stories, consisting of several playrooms, guest rooms, night club, and much more. They owned quite a large piece of property outside Mclean. Hopefully, the rebuild after the fire wouldn’t take too long. I hadn’t hesitated to make a donation, because I knew how insurance companies worked. And I desperately wanted to be a part of their community. I’d already made a few tentative friends.
“Where are you and Jack having dinner?” Tate asked.
“That’s the thing,” I said with a slight frown. “I usually make reservations at a somewhat casual place—we enjoy the food at Sequoia, for instance, but—”
Kingsley snorted.
Tate laughed. “In what universe is Sequoia casual?”
“Somewhat casual,” I stressed. “But this time, he made reservations at some place called Ocean Prime.”
At that, Kingsley let out a low whistle.
Tate looked equal parts impressed and confused. “That gives me nothing to go on at all. Swanky, expensive, comes with a dress code—but…” He glanced at Kingsley. “Isn’t it a popular place for businessmen?”
Why did that matter? I’d looked at the quite extensive menu. I was ordering scallops. “Technically, we’re both businessmen.” I threw that out there.
Kingsley shrugged and responded to Tate. “Maybe they go for lunch? My boss takes potential clients there sometimes.”
Tate hummed. “In other words, too soon to tell if Jack has anything romantic planned out.”
Oh, for—
Actually, no, this was good. My genuine worry stemmed from the fact that I’d started seeing men as sexual—as sexual to me. Or rather, I’d admitted to myself that I was gay, which had opened a ridiculous number of doors where attraction was concerned.
I loved to look. To watch. To appreciate the male form.
And considering Jack’s manners, how he’d always behaved around me, and how I’d subsequently reacted, I was incredibly nervous that I would make a fool of myself. But that was all. He was still the cousin of my daughter, the son of Claire, whom I respected and treasured—not to mention, my ex-wife’s favorite nephew. For all intents and purposes, he was my nephew too. I wasn’t worried about actual boundaries. Last I heard, he had a boyfriend.
Listening to Tate’s wild speculations about Jack’s reason for visiting put things into perspective for me.
“I think I’m ready,” I heard myself say, straightening up a bit. “I don’t have anything to worry about. The boy may have a knack for unconsciously ruffling my feathers with his infuriating confidence, but I’m not the depressed sack of denial I was last year. I’ve left all the toxicity behind me. My future is no longer a source of melancholy and bitterness. I have no reason to envy his openness anymore.”
I took great pleasure from the dose of assertiveness that flowed through me, and that was even before I saw the look in Kingsley’s beautiful grayish-green eyes. He approved of my sudden turn, and that felt wonderful.
“Our boy’s all grown up, Master,” Tate gushed jokingly.
I chuckled and shook my head. I was older than both of them, for goodness’ sake. Kingsley hadn’t turned forty yet, and Tate was…thirty or so, I believed.
Kingsley quirked a lazy little grin. “I’m curious about that confidence you mentioned. Is he arrogant or something?”
“No, that’s the infuriating part,” I replied. “Despite his self-assurance and ability to command a room, he’s very down-to-earth and, I dare say, a little humble too.”
“Yeah, sounds fucking awful,” Tate deadpanned. “I’d be infuriated too.”
I did not appreciate the joke. I sniffed and set down my glass on the drink cart. “You don’t know what it’s like to run a company with over four hundred employees and worry that they will listen to your fresh-out-of-college intern nephew instead of the CEO.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” he chuckled. “Sounds to me you’ve made him the target of resentment for your own perceived shortcomings.”
Kingsley nodded at Tate. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. It’s time to unclench, Franklin. You’ve come a long way, and I’m not just talking about your recent changes. You got nothing to be insecure about.”
I figured I was too old to get huffy. What was wrong with targeting someone else over my own uncertainties? It’d worked splendidly for me for two decades.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” Tate said. “Did you tell Noa you’re coming to his gig? And was my invitation lost in the mail?”
I let out a laugh and shook my head. “It should be in your inbox on the forum.”