Lakshan sets down a large plate of egg and bacon muffin sandwiches. “Put the book away, we’re eating,” he says.
“I’m all done. I know enough. I’m not reading anymore about Darius’s penis.” That’s not remotely true—about being done that is. I want to know the rest, but maybe I’ll skip Darry’s parts.
“I was fucking with you a bit there. Big brother’s prerogative. My fascination with Asher is important. It leads to shaping me and blah, blah, blah. Don’t youdareskip my parts—I’m going to quiz you after.”
“Oh yeah? What will you do if I don’t?”
“No. Not this morning. You two have bickered every day this week. I want peace and quiet,” Silas says, strolling over to the table with his coffee in hand.
“I haven’t even been here every day this week. We’re on a rotation or some fucking stupid thing,” Darius says. “We live at Simon and Shane’s part-time. Remember?”
Silas didn’t forget. “Silly me. It’s all blended together.”
There’s a good chance Silas is about to hand out consequences and I’ve already had enough of those for one morning, thanks. I divert. “I made Silas smile last night. A real smile.”
Darius raises his brows. “I assumed his facial muscles had lost the conditioning for that.”
“Nope. But maybe we could do it again.”
“I remember when Silas smiled on our wedding day,” Lakshan says. “We have a picture.”
“How did this turn into a conversation about me? I want to get back to the part where I knock two Randall heads together if I hear any more bickering,” Silas says.
He means it. “Yes, sir,” I say.
“Aye, Captain Randall,” Darius says.
“Speaking of Captains and things, where’s Wyatt?” I ask.
“Some fire force thing. He’s obsessed. Silas, I need you to get him hired by the fire chief so he can start his job. All this training is cutting into Darius and the major time. Quick, hand me the book so I can write about how unhappy my penis is about it. The catharsis of it all will make me feel better.”
It takes all my restraint to behave. He’s also a little funny.
Lakshan swipes the book off the table, setting it on the kitchen island. A good idea or Silas’s head might explode.
“I think you misunderstood the assignment, Darry,” I say, snatching an egg muffin.
“Guess you’ll see.” He waggles his eyebrows. Ugh, there are more “fuck with Oliver” bits I’m yet to read, aren’t there?
Julius rushes in fresh from the shower. “Sorry, amore. I have to run out. I wanted to say goodbye.”
“But you haven’t had breakfast.” I frown.
“It’s a dance matter,” he says. “I’ll take something to go?”
“Yes. Here, allow me to wrap that in wax paper for you, Julius,” Lakshan says.
Lak gets Julius some to-go breakfast and I don’t miss the look that Silas exchanges with him. Or the minute nod from Julius. “Everything okay, baby?” I say, feeling left out.
“Everything’s fine. I’ll see you later,la mia bellissima principessa danzante,” he says, deepening his accent.
I accept the kiss he plants on my lips, my hand going to my throat where my gold collar sits. “Okay.” That’s all I’ve got. Something’s wrong. Now isn’t the time to talk about it.
We eat breakfast and Silas, who always claims he doesn’t know a thing about affection, shines his adoration on Lakshan. His icy-blue eyes soften, and he stares with awe, kissing his lips, combing fingers through his dark hair, and pulling Lak against his wide chest, preventing him from getting up to do anymore for us. “Eat for, Daddy,” he whispers in his ear, probably so I won’t hear, but Silas is utterly distracted by him, and his voice is just this side of too loud.
It doesn’t bother me. I love seeing Silas this enamored. He deserves love like he has with Lakshan—so does Lakshan.
Turning to Darry, I grab his hand remembering something else from the book that thankfully has nothing to do with his penis. “Darry, I appreciate you and I always will. I should tell you more.”
