“I HAD A dreadful feeling I’d find you still here behind a mountain of paperwork.”
I looked up from where I sat at my desk late Monday to see Benoit propped against my office door, a bottle of vermouth in one hand and a small bottle of bitters in the other. His golden-brown hair was only slightly windblown, but the flush in his cheeks and nose and the cashmere scarf thrown artfully around his neck spoke of the cold outside.
I smirked up at my longtime friend as he sauntered in, heading straight for the bar cart.
“Are you here to relieve me, then? Or just taking advantage of my liquor?” I said.
He carefully lifted the top of the crystal whiskey decanter and cocked a brow. “Both, mon ami. You’re welcome.”
With a shake of my head, I continued working the monthly figures for my agency, though it was one of the more tedious aspects of owning a business. “Give me five.”
“I’ll give you two.”
Those two minutes passed quicker than expected, and I’d barely finished giving the spreadsheet a final once-over when Benoit set a full tumbler in front of me.
“All right,” I said, logging off the computer and then reaching for the glass. “I yield.”
The Manhattan he’d made was strong and slightly bitter, just the way I liked it—but then, he’d had a couple of decades to perfect it, ever since we were roommates during our Astor days.
As the alcohol made its way through my veins, I sighed and leaned back in my leather chair, kicking my feet up on the desk. “Have I mentioned I’m glad you’re back? London doesn’t deserve you.” I held up my glass. “Or these.”
A hint of a smile lifted Benoit’s lips. “If I’d known you missed me that much, I would’ve come back sooner.”
“Liar.”
“Well, I would’ve thought about it.” He winked at me over his glass, and I couldn’t help but grin at my old friend.
Well, old wasn’t really the word to describe either of us. I’d only recently turned forty-two, and the number still felt foreign to me. In some ways I understood it. I had a daughter in college; I owned my own company. I was accomplished. Settled, in most ways. But I couldn’t reconcile it with the fact that I still felt like I was in my early thirties. Especially when I was around a certain college kid.
Hell, Benoit, with his unlined skin and youthful energy, looked closer to Preston’s age. It was only his wealth of jet-setting experience that gave him away.
He unwound his scarf and draped it over the chair beside him, then crossed his legs. “Ugh. I’d almost forgotten how much colder the winters are here.”
“All the better to find a few hot bodies to share them with—isn’t that what you always said?”
“You know me too well. Why do you think I’m pre-gaming here?” A satisfied smile curved his lips. “Any prospects I should know about?”
I choked a little on my drink. “For me?”
Benoit blinked slowly. “Yes, for you. Or have you gone celibate in my absence?”
I almost let out a snort at that. “Hardly.”
“Then is there anyone of interest I should avoid an entanglement with?”
I set my glass aside and crossed my hands over my stomach. “You know what I find entertaining about you?”
“Only everything?”
“Your so-called altruism.”
Benoit’s mouth fell open. “So-called?”
I twisted my glass in circles on my desk. “Mhmm.”
“Are you saying I’m asking about your sex life out of nosy interest and not because I want to steer clear of anyone you have your eye on?”
I nodded. “Nailed it.”
The look of pretend shock on Benoit’s face settled into a wide grin, and he shrugged. “Fine. You caught me. I’m a gossipy whore who wants all the dirty details.”
A laugh boomed out of me as I lifted my drink again. Benoit would salivate if he knew the trouble I’d almost gotten myself into today when I made the mistake of locking myself in a room with Preston. That had been a close call.
“There’s no one of particular interest, so the city is your oyster.”
“Hmm.” He eyed me a little too curiously. “You are getting laid, right? I don’t need to have an intervention—”
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. As if I’d last long without an outlet for all the stress and responsibilities on my shoulders. No, I had no problem finding a willing body for a night, but suddenly my focus was a little too singular, and that was something that couldn’t continue. “Don’t worry, I’m satisfied,” I assured Benoit.
“I mean with more than just your hand, friend.”
I was about to tell him who and where I’d been fully satisfied by recently—more to shut him up than to partake in his gossipy ways—when I was saved by the bell.
Sasha’s line lit up, and I quickly took the opportunity to avoid Benoit’s all-too-knowing stare.
“Yes, Sasha? What is it?”
“Preston Abernathy is here to see you. Would you like me to have him wait, or should I send him in?”
Motherfucker. What the hell was Preston doing here? I’d made it clear earlier that I had no intention of continuing his line of conversation.
“I’m busy,” I replied.
There was a pause, like Sasha was relaying the message, and then she was back. “He says it’ll just take a minute. Something to do with the Winter Ball.”
Winter Ball, my ass.
But… Benoit was here. He would be a buffer to keep Preston from saying or doing anything that would lead the both of us somewhere we shouldn’t go.
I swallowed a sigh. “You can send him in.”
“Very good.”
Benoit smiled as I hit the button to end the intercom. “Who’s Preston?”
“No one.”
There was a knock on the door, and I took my feet off the desk and sat up.
“Come in,” I called out.
“Hi.” A knowing smile just this side of flirtatious curved Preston’s lips as he stepped into my office and shut the door behind him. But when he spotted Benoit sitting in the chair opposite me, he came to a standstill and his smile fell. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t realize you were in the middle of a meeting.”
Benoit swiveled in his seat to see who’d joined us, and he gave Preston a long once-over. “Trust me, mon cher, with a face like that, you never have to worry about interrupting.”
“Knock it off, Benoit.” I shook my head and gestured for Preston to come in. My friend turned back to me, raised his perfectly sculpted brows, and mouthed, Is he fully satisfying you?
Of course he’d go there. Preston was a looker, and all that confidence had caught Benoit’s attention. I gave my friend a curt shake of my head.
“Benoit, this is Preston. Serena’s boyfriend.” I added the extra emphasis for everyone’s benefit, and I couldn’t help but notice the flash of annoyance in Preston’s eyes. But I could see the way Benoit was eyeing Senator Abernathy’s son, and with his fresh-faced good looks and easygoing charm, Preston would be the exact kind of distraction Benoit would be looking for in the city.
A disappointed expression crossed Benoit’s face before he quickly plastered on a polite smile. “Oh, well, that’s a shame. But lucky for Serena.”
“It is,” I said, and eyed Preston pointedly. “Preston is great for Serena, and they’re wonderful together. I couldn’t be happier for them.”
With Benoit watching, Preston was back to playing the part of the perfect son and boyfriend. He bit his lip before nodding and giving my friend a tight smile.
“How do you know Mr. Carrington?”
Benoit ran his finger along the lip of his glass in slow circles and smirked. “How do I not know him?”
Oh Jesus.
Preston looked between the two of us, clearly taken aback. “Are you two…together?”
It wouldn’t be the worst thing for him to think I was taken, but lying to him after his truths had come out didn’t feel right.
“Honey, no.” Benoit let out a lyrical laugh. “I can’t be tied down, not even by someone as handsome as my old friend here. You know what they say, keep a man in every port.”
I shook my head. “Is that what they say?”
Benoit lifted a shoulder. “Well, it’s what I say.”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I looked back to Preston. “What brings you by?”
Preston seemed to gather himself as he opened the leather flap of his messenger bag and pulled out a plastic binder.
“I told you when I stopped by Friday that I’d work on those figures you asked me for.” He slipped the folder across the desk and flipped it open to the first page. “I got a few different quotes for the interior lighting if you still want to go with the winter’s night theme.”
“Winter’s night?”
I glanced at Benoit. “Yes. I thought the blues and silvers under twinkling lights would make for a festive and romantic setting at the Elysium this year. Instead of the same old traditional red, green, and gold.”
“Ah, yes,” Benoit said. “What better time to fall in love than during the holidays. Don’t you think, Preston?”
Tension radiated off Preston, but he held his tongue. “I suppose so. I’m just doing what Mr. Carrington tells me.”
“Well, aren’t you a good boy.”
I aimed a shut the fuck up glare in my friend’s direction.
“I can be,” Preston said, and I didn’t miss the double meaning in his words.
Benoit took a sip of his drink then looked over the rim of the glass at me. “I’m sure.”
Desperately needing to stop this line of conversation, I reached for the folder and flicked through it. I wasn’t surprised at all to find pages of quotes for everything I’d listed, all expertly organized and including his thoughts on each. “As always, you’ve done an impressive job. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Instead of leaving, Preston leaned over the desk. I stopped breathing at the close proximity, his face only a foot away, his eyes piercing mine.
I could sense the way he reached between us, pointing something out in the binder, but he didn’t break our connection, and I was too focused on what he was doing to force myself to look away in case he tried something—and in case I let him.
“Just so you know…” His voice had a purring quality to it, and it stroked between my thighs. “I highlighted the ones I thought you’d like best.”
A muffled sound—a cough, maybe—came from the other man still sitting in the room, and even with the awareness that we weren’t alone, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away from whatever hold Preston had on me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have let him come in after all. I should’ve stuck to my initial plan of having him report to Sasha, to limit our interaction, especially after what happened earlier today.
“Archer.”
When I saw the pointed way Benoit was staring at me and shaking his head, it was enough to snap me out of whatever headspace I’d gotten caught in.
I cleared my throat and closed the binder. “Thank you, Preston, this is going to be very helpful. I’ll go over the estimates.”
Preston straightened, but I didn’t dare look at him as he said, “Great. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Archer, would you like Preston to join us for a drink?” Benoit offered, ever the instigator.
Preston slowly smiled when I made the mistake of looking up, and when his eyes caught and held mine a second longer than usual, I found myself reaching for, and adjusting, my tie. Damn Benoit for putting me on the spot. But there was no way I was going to be in the same room with Preston and a bottle of whiskey.
“As much as I’d love to, I’ve got to get going,” Preston said. “I’m meeting Serena for dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”
Jumping on the opportunity to get him gone, I nodded. “Of course. You should go.”
A strange, unfamiliar tension filled the air between us as Preston looked to Benoit. “It was nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure was all mine, mon cher.”
Preston looked back at me, his eyes almost twinkling as he grinned. “Have a good night, Mr. Carrington.”
As he gave a final wave, Benoit and I watched him go. The second the door shut behind him, Benoit turned on me, his mouth hanging open.
“You dirty, dirty dog.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t try to act innocent with me, Mr. Carrington.” Benoit uncrossed his long legs and got to his feet. “I saw that moment between you two.”
“There was no moment between us. He’s my daughter’s boyfriend.”
“If I hadn’t been here, that boy would’ve crawled on top of that desk and done anything you needed.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“No, I’m not. But what I want to know is what in the incestuous hell have you and Serena gotten yourselves into?”
“Not a thing.”
“Yet. You can’t tell me you’re not thinking about it, though. I can taste the sexual tension in here.”
“What? You’re delusional.”
“Uh, no. You’re the delusional one. Did you not see the way he was looking at you? Not to mention, who brings by a folder with information these days? Has the kid not heard of email? He wanted to see you, Mr. Carrington.”
Benoit batted his lashes, making me laugh. “You’re crazy. And stop calling me that.”
“Why, Mr. Carrington? Does it make you horny?”
“Not fucking likely. It sounds like you’re talking about my father.”
“Well, we’re definitely talking about someone’s father. How long have you wanted to rip the clothes off that pretty young thing?”
His words hit the mark, and I clenched my molars. “I don’t want to rip them off.”
“No? Not even with your bare hands? What about your teeth? Popping button by button—”
“Aaand I think you’ve outstayed your welcome,” I said, swallowing the last of my Manhattan.
Benoit pouted. “But I haven’t finished my drink yet, Mr.—”
“Fine, you can stay if you stop calling me that.”
“Okay.” Benoit paused, and just when I thought he’d moved on, he asked, “Do you prefer Daddy?”
