MILO WALKED on air into the office Monday morning. All in all—despite his near catatonic state—Paris Fashion Week was a smashing success. He returned with no less than a dozen suits from both top and up-and-coming designers, several pairs of shoes, silk ties, and a kilt for some reason, which he had no idea what to do with. Maybe Tommy might like it as a thank-you gift for his help at the gala.
A part of Milo still felt guilty over spurning his friend’s feelings. Regardless of what Tommy said about trying a monogamous relationship, Milo doubted Tommy’s fortitude. And their friendship meant too much to him. He preferred they dance around each other awkwardly for a few months than lose what they’d shared for several years.
Yet another part of Milo wanted to give in to his curiosity. There was no doubt of Tommy’s prowess in the bedroom… and wherever else he liked to fuck. Milo attended several parties where other models bragged about Tommy’s stamina and creativity.
But Milo’s curiosity remained just that. He already had Kaz, and he had no doubt of Kaz’s skills—if Milo went by his dexterous tongue alone. So it was no surprise that Milo found it hard to concentrate on work the entire week.
Anticipation mounted for their Friday dinner and what would happen afterward. It didn’t help that Kaz sent him flowers every day, to the point where Milo had to give away some of the vases because his desk was full. The naughty texts and phone sex exacerbated matters.
It seemed with each minute that passed, Milo grew hornier and hornier. Surviving dinner without jumping Kaz’s bones there and then seemed like a farfetched concept.
But the Hellfire Club?
Even Milo hadn’t been to the super secretive, super exclusive men’s club. Only sons or grandsons of former members were allowed access. Archibald had been given an invitation, but damn his father for declining. Instead, he created his own club, which was located a few miles outside the city.
At his desk Friday afternoon, Milo pushed away thoughts of his father and kept himself busy while he waited for Cassandra to return from lunch. He refused to count down the minutes until Jiro arrived in front of their building to pick him up.
Behind him hung a garment bag with one of the suits that had come home with him from Paris. In many ways, that night was their first date.
All morning, since Kaz arrived in the city, they had exchanged text messages like teenagers. At one point he called, and Milo almost dropped his phone. The conversation had to be quick, since Milo was headed into a meeting with marketing, but he had blushed ever since.
The phone at his desk beeped, and Milo picked up the receiver on the first ring. It was the personal assistant of the actress on the cover of their October issue, confirming the time of the shoot. He rattled off the information that was requested just as the elevator doors opened and Cassandra stepped out. He reached for the stack of messages that had arrived while she was gone and prepared himself for their afternoon briefing, giving the call half his attention.
“In my office, now,” Cassandra said as she passed.
Milo ended the call and quickly stood up, tablet in hand. He hurried in after her and closed the door behind him.
“Is it true that Kenji tried to poison you?” she asked without preamble. “Was that why you didn’t come back to work the day of your lunch with him?”
Milo’s jaw dropped. He stood in shocked silence.
A deep furrow formed between Cassandra’s eyebrows as she waited for a response. In the back of his mind, he made a mental note to remind her of her Botox appointment.
“Well?”
Cassandra’s follow-up question knocked Milo back to the present. He rolled his eyes and sighed.
“He didn’t try to poison me. More like he was flexing. The real important question here is how did you find out?”
“Yukifumi told me at lunch,” she said.
For the second time, Milo’s jaw dropped. “But you were having lunch with—”
“I was,” she cut him off. “Yukifumi dropped in and we spoke. He told me that he was dissolving his partnership with House of Suzuki and about what Kenji had done.”
Right that instant his tablet pinged with an incoming text. I’m not sorry. From Kaz.
Milo wanted to be annoyed; he really did. He’d hoped to leave Cassandra out of it, knowing information might eventually reach his mother. That was the last thing he wanted, because there was a remote possibility that through her, his father might find out. It would pretty much be hellfire and brimstone from there. No one harmed that man’s son.
“It’s old news,” he finally said, regaining his composure. “As you can see, Kaz took care of it. You don’t have to… what are you doing?”
Cassandra picked up the receiver of the phone on her desk and quickly dialed a number.
After a couple of seconds, she said, “Mandatory meeting. Tell everyone. I am replacing the exclusive on the House of Suzuki. Yes. Yes. I want ideas in an hour. No one goes home until we fill in the gap in the issue.”
Milo stared, speechless, as Cassandra ended the call.
“I suggest you get ready,” she said, as though she hadn’t just ended the career of one of the rising stars of fashion. No magazine in their right mind would touch him after she was through. “We have a lot of work to do. I want suggestions from you too.”
He backed out of her office, still stunned.
“I CAN’T believe she actually cut Kenji out of the issue,” Milo said as he sliced into his two-inch-thick porterhouse steak with gusto. It was a huge piece of meat, medium rare—just the way he liked it—with a side of the silkiest mashed potatoes he had ever tasted.
It seemed like pedestrian fare for the Hellfire Club on the Upper East Side, but according to Kaz, he could order anything he wanted and the chef would make it. There wasn’t a menu at the prestigious men’s establishment. Already Milo cursed his father for turning down the invitation to join. He could have been a legacy!
But that wasn’t the point.
At the moment Milo was still turning over the series of events that had taken place before he left the office. He was half an hour late because the mandatory meeting ran longer than expected. It forced him to change in the car while Jiro navigated Friday rush-hour traffic.
Kaz forgave him. Technically, he was the one responsible for the emergency meeting and complete overhaul of the next issue, which was scheduled for printing by the end of next week. Not that the Rebel staff had never started from scratch before. The spring-dresses debacle of two years back still gave everyone nightmares. Even the mention of it was enough to send all the blood in Milo’s body to the soles of his feet.
“I like this editor in chief of yours.” Kaz lifted his wineglass to his lips and took a delicate sip.
For a second all Milo did was stare as Kaz’s throat worked while he swallowed. Evil naughty thoughts assailed him. Suddenly the piece of steak in his mouth transformed into something else, something far hotter and saltier.
Ashamed at the lewd turn of his thoughts inside such a stuffy place, Milo picked up his wineglass and swallowed a huge gulp. They were the youngest men there. The rest were graying and wrinkled.
Some gave Milo assessing glances, as if they knew whose son he was, while others studied Kaz—they definitely knew who he was.
“You shouldn’t have told Cassandra about Kenji,” Milo said, pouting. He returned his glass to the table and cut through his steak for the next bite.
Kaz leaned back and studied him closely enough to make Milo want to squirm. Kaz’s blue eyes held the same heat he’d shown in Paris while sucking him off. How Milo managed not to spontaneously combust when he arrived was still a mystery.
Did the rest of the room know what Kaz was thinking that very second? Could they feel the electricity arcing in the air between them?
“I thought it best to let her know I will no longer be his partner,” Kaz replied casually. “What Kenji had done just happened to slip out during the course of our conversation.”
“How did that go? ‘And by the way, he fed your employee a potentially lethal substance’?” Milo rolled his eyes.
“Are you mad at me?” Kaz challenged. “Because I’m not above angry sex. Not the plan for your first time, but I’m happy to oblige.”
“Shh!” Milo glanced around. “Say that a little louder, why don’t you?”
“What? That in less than an hour I plan to fuck you until you cannot walk straight?”
That did it. The heat at the tips of Milo’s ears traveled to the rest of his face. He must have been as red as the wine they were drinking.
Kaz threw his head back and laughed. The rich sound drew the attention of everyone within hearing distance. The dining room grew silent as Milo felt all eyes on them.
“Will you stop teasing me? I’m horny enough as it is,” he hissed under his breath.
“You have no idea,” Kaz said, sobering immediately. “If it wouldn’t get us kicked out of this place, I would have you on this table right now. Good thing I don’t want an audience. You make the most beautiful face when you come.”
Another wave of awareness sent blood rushing from Milo’s head down to the throbbing member between his legs. He ached for Kaz’s touch, craved it like the air he breathed. The dark paneling of the room seemed to close in around them. The portraits of the distinguished members of the club seemed to condemn the lust riding Milo’s body hard.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Kenji was blackballed from the fashion industry by the end of next week,” Milo said, returning to their previous conversation in an attempt to keep things civilized for a little while longer.
His mother taught him better, after all. A healthy sex life was all well and good, but not around polite company. Hilarious, since he doubted if half the men in the room with him could still achieve an erection without help.
“It’s nothing less than what he deserves,” Kaz said, granting Milo a reprieve by softening the desire in his expression.
“But I hate that such a talented designer’s career would be ruined. Sure, Kenji threatened to kill me—”
“No one threatens what is mine.”
Kaz spoke with so much conviction that it was hard for Milo not to believe him. Would he have done the same if someone threatened Kaz’s life?
The thought of losing Kaz was enough to break him, make his blood boil. So yeah, maybe considering drastic measures wasn’t above Milo. But what did he really know about Kaz, other than he was a businessman?
They would sleep together that night. It was a foregone conclusion.
“You’re ruthless,” Milo teased before he leaned forward and said, “I’m yours.”
The severity of Kaz’s expression eased when he nodded.
“But understand that you are also mine,” he continued. Kaz squared his shoulders. Milo felt all of Kaz’s attention focus on him. Good. “And with that comes certain expectations.”
“Like what expectations?” Kaz asked, looking like the calculating businessman Milo knew him to be.
“That you will tell me more about yourself.”
Kaz was silent for a long moment. Then he leaned back and rubbed his chin.
What was there to consider? There should be no secrets between them. Anything less was unacceptable.
“I will tell you what you need to know when you need to know,” Kaz said.
Milo let go of his fork and knife and sat back as well. If that was how Kaz wanted to play it, then so be it. Better to hammer out the details before they went any further.
“This is not a negotiation,” was his equally calm reply.
“Everything is a negotiation,” Kaz countered.
“Not in my world.” Milo reached for his wineglass and set it on the arm of his chair. He pinched the stem with his thumb and forefinger and began to stroke it up and down. Almost immediately he felt Kaz’s gaze shift to what he was doing. “I’m prepared to give you all of me. It is only right that you give me all of you in return. Those are the terms. I want nothing less.”
Milo noticed that Kaz regarded him with steely admiration and a hint of humor. “You drive a hard bargain, McLaren-san.”
“Take it or leave it, Yukifumi-sama,” he teased back.
Then something caught Kaz’s attention from behind Milo. In seconds his face went from serious to pale. Concern blossomed in Milo’s chest. He was about to turn around to see what was going on when Kaz spoke Nihongo in a less than certain tone.
“What are you doing here?”