“I called him.”
And just like that, Ian didn’t feel so badly about pushing Alec away for weeks.
Just like that, he wasfurious.
“Ah.” His voice came out calm and polite. “I see.”
Alec recognized that tone; had stood by while Ian had wielded it like a blade against prospective business rivals and overreaching clients. His eyes widened.
“Thinking I might be fucking my ex – who is married, as established – you decide to mine through my recent calls and then contact my most loyal client so you can, what, bend his ear about my assumed infidelity? You bent the ear of the mother chapter president of the world’s most notorious motorcycle club about your insipid romantic drama?”
Alec bit his lip hard, until it went white, and visibly gathered himself. “No. I called the man you look to as a father figure to see if he had idea what’s been bothering you so that I could help you through it.”
Ian took a breath. And another. “Right.” He flipped back the covers and got unsteadily to his feet. “I have a meeting.”
“Ian,” Alec said, pleading, desperate.
“I need to get ready.”
Alec followed him to the bathroom and braced a hand against the door when Ian tried to shut it in his face. “Ian,” he said, tone firming into something steely Ian had never heard from him before. “Ghost said he thinks someone’s trying to threaten you. Who is it? Let me help you.”
Ian took a steadying breath and studied him a moment, the jut of his chin, the way he looked cute when he was trying to be ferocious. “You violated my trust,” he protested, but there was no heat behind it.
“You’ve treated me like shit,” Alec shot back, equally mild.
“You can’t help.”
“Try me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yeah.”
Ian gritted his teeth in frustration and spoke through them. “Theproblemis that my horrible, horrifying,fucked uppast is catching up with me yet again.”
Understanding bloomed in Alec’s eyes…and sympathy.
“Don’t give me that bloody puppy dog look,” Ian snapped. “I can handle this.”
Alec sighed. “Right. Because you’re the man in this relationship, and I’m the wife who sits at home.”
“No. Because these people are sick, and I won’t have them touch you.”
“Oh, Ian.”
“I don’t have time for this.” He forced the door shut and went to take a shower.
He was running late and had to rush more than he liked. Nicked himself shaving. Couldn’t quite tame the flyaway bits of hair at his temples. He grunted in frustration, finally, doused his hands under the tap, and slicked the whole heavy mass of hair back with water – a temporary solution. The hotel had steamed his suit yesterday, but it looked rumpled and ill-fitting somehow, though it had been tailored to perfection.
Maybe it wasn’t the suit, he thought grimly, but his own skin that didn’t fit right this morning.
Alec was a runner, and went for three miles every morning before breakfast. Not today, though. Ian exited the bathroom to find his lover still in his pajamas, taking the lids off several cloches on a room service cart that had appeared in the center of the suite. The strong scents of coffee, and bagels, and oatmeal threatened to turn Ian’s stomach.
“Here,” Alec said, gamely trying to be cheerful. “You need to eat something before you go.”
“I don’t have time,” he said as he slipped his cufflinks into place. Really, he couldn’t eat even if he’d wanted to. The idea of food was bringing up sweat between his shoulder blades.
Alec gave him a steady, hard to read look. “You should.”
