Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“And you think you can keep Marc?”
“It’s not me; it’s them.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” He could easily imagine Thorne’s satisfied smirk.
“Do you have info on Marc or not?”
“He’s a good friend to Riley, supportive, trustworthy, generous. I’d hire him.”
Darius debated asking, but what the hell? “You did hire him, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“He’s the one who sent you Riley.”
Thorne cleared his throat. “That’s classified.”
“If he can please you, then I know he meets exacting standards.”
“He does,” Thorne said, his voice neutral.
Darius loved poking at him. “So you’d agree to be a reference if he asks you?”
“Without hesitation. In all seriousness, you should hire him. You won’t do better, unless you know someone else with your magic powers.”
“Ha. If I did, I’d have hired them already.”
“I’ve got to run,” Thorne said. “I’m in a meeting.”
“You stepped out of a meeting to take my call?” Darius liked that a lot.
“I did. One can never be too serious about one’s suits.”
Darius grinned. “Damn right.”
“Hire Marc.”
“Go work.”
Darius ended the call.
Riley was one lucky man. Darius could never have put up with Thorne’s bullshit, but he was a good man. If Darius were the type to want a relationship… No, he’d learned his lesson there. Learned it really damn well. Fuck a man, then walk away. That was how to stay sane.
Oh, so you’re sane now?
Shut the fuck up.
And good at taking criticism.
Shitgibbon.
CHAPTER THREE
Marc glanced up from filling a tray to watch Riley as he raced around the kitchen. He might be worried about how the evening would go, but it was clear he was in his element. Marc had agreed to act as a server at the art museum gala. Both Thorne and his sister, Kathryn, were on the museum board. When their usual caterer canceled last minute, they hired Riley and Susan.
Riley’s cheeks were flushed with exertion. Marc paused to watch him pipe icing onto a row of cupcakes. His eyes sparkled with excitement. The adrenaline rush of making everything come together at a catering job suited him.
Marc longed to find that sort of job satisfaction and success. The museum guests were raving about Riley’s food.
I could be just as happy.
The damn job with Darius. Marc was afraid, fucking afraid, to take it. What if he failed again like he had with school?
I didn’t fail; I quit and never worked up the nerve to go back.
That was a kind of failure. He’d never been good with follow-through.
I can’t keep living vicariously through Riley.
True. At least he’d never truly be happy if he did. But he didn’t have to work for Darius to follow his dream, and designing costumes wasn’t his only interest. So maybe it was the only one he’d ever really taken seriously or thought to develop into a career, but…
He’d look at job openings. He might find something that called to him just as much.
Who am I kidding? And why did I bother asking Darius for an application if I wasn’t going to take the job? Though I did want it that day.
He had, but then he’d thought about how much he wanted Darius and how if he were working with him every day, he’d end up falling for him, which would no doubt end in disaster and put him right back where he was.
Thorne peeked into the kitchen, and Marc rushed over to him before he could get more than a few feet into the room. He took Thorne’s arm and spun him around.
“Let your man work. You’ll have plenty of time with him when you go home to celebrate how wonderfully the evening went.”
Thorne frowned. “He told you to get me out of there, didn’t he?”
Because he was a devoted friend to Riley, Marc spent several minutes soothing Thorne’s ego until he finally resigned himself to staying out of the kitchen and letting Riley work.
“Go get Riley a drink, and tell him to calm the fuck down,” Thorne ordered him. “Once people eat his cupcakes, they’ll try to elevate him to godhood.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.”
Marc turned to head back to the kitchen, but a thought made him pause. Riley needed a space for his bakery, and he was willing to bet he hadn’t mentioned the one he wanted to Thorne.
“What?” Thorne asked, clearly sensing Marc’s hesitation.
Riley might kill him, but he wasn’t going to stand by and watch Riley throw away his shot.
“Just say it.” Thorne used his most commanding tone. Even Marc found it hard to resist, and he’d had Thorne on his knees.
“Did Riley tell you about the space he found for a bakery, the one next to Darius’s shop?”
Thorne looked wary. “The only thing he told me about that afternoon was how hard you were eye-fucking Darius and that you took an employment application from him.”
Marc sighed. “We found a building, next to Darius’s, that has a perfect spot for a bakery, but it’s in bad shape and it’s up for sale.”