Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He made quick work of showering and getting ready, mostly because he didn’t want to look at the evidence of his night with a certain not-so-grumpy stranger.
It was Sunday. Much like the Saturday brunches he shared with Ange, he had started a tradition of Sunday dinners with the boys. Ansel always cooked because he was the only one who enjoyed it. And also because he was the only one with a living space big enough for the five of them. Ange had become an honorary member of the Sassy Boyz because of her sheer awesomeness. Not to mention she’d been a part of Ansel’s life for just as long.
Since he hadn’t shopped all week, the first thing he needed to do was buy some food. But he also had to stop by the club to pick up his paycheck. Fucking Castor always made them beg for the money. Since Ansel had skipped out on the after-party last night, he’d have to beg extra hard.
Luckily the grocery store he liked best was empty on Sundays so he zipped through the aisles, picking up the essentials for a traditional German spätzle, like his mom used to make. He also got some toilet paper, milk, and Ange’s favorite cookies. In a completely uncharacteristic act of whimsy, he threw a packet of after-dinner mint chocolates in the basket too. He’d eat them and think of Fitch, while doing his best to forget him.
Logically. He rolled his eyes.
When he got back to the apartment, Ange was still locked away in her room. So he put the groceries away and cleaned up a little. Around noon, he left again and made his way to the club.
He found Castor on the computer in his office. A mad grin stretched across his face when Ansel entered, making him appear half-possessed.
“Ah, my diamond. My star. Come in.”
Ansel’s skin crawled at the greasy compliment. To fight the shudder, he stiffened his spine and raised his chin. “I’m in a hurry, Castor. Can I have my check?” It was worth a try. He knew Castor wanted to toy with him, but it wasn’t in him to play along.
“In a moment. Sit down.” He pulled out the expensive crystal decanter from his bottom drawer and a pair of matching glasses. “Have a drink with me.”
“No.” The answer was automatic even as his mouth watered for the taste. He didn’t sit and he never, ever, ever, took a drink from someone who made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’d learned that the hard way.
“You never relax. Why so tense?” Castor poured whiskey in both glasses. The sound made Ansel thirsty and his hands began to shake.
“I’m not tense. I’m just in a hurry.”
Castor pinched his lips together and started tapping his finger on the crystal glass. “I pay you well, yes?”
Ansel leaned against the doorframe and clenched his jaw. Every fucking time, the threats, the cajoling...the temptation.
“You pay us almost as much as we deserve,” Ansel ground out. Unfortunately, this was not the right answer. It never was. Castor’s grip on the crystal tightened and his lip curled up to bare his teeth. It was supposed to be a smile, but it was all wrong.
“You should have more respect,” Castor spat.
“I give you all the respect you earn. Now give me my money.”
For a second, he thought he’d pushed too hard this time, and Castor would refuse to pay him. But then the man’s fat fingers curled around an envelope on the top of his desk and he tossed it. The paper fluttered to the ground between them.
“Take it, bitch, and get the fuck out of my office.”
Ansel hid his ire while he retrieved the check and scurried out. The asshole would get what was coming to him one day, he hoped. Pushing on his oversized wannabe Marc Jacobs sunglasses, he left the club. Outside, he tore open the envelope with trembling hands and cursed at the small bundle of bills. Before he could make another terrible decision and march right back into Castor’s office, he collided with a solid body.
“Sorry,” a semi-familiar voice said.
Ansel looked up with an apology on his lips, but the words died when he saw who he’d run into. His stomach bottomed out and alarm seized his heart. “Lars.”
His brother.
When had he gotten so tall? The last time Ansel had seen him he’d been a puny little teenager, barely thirteen years old.
“Ansel? Wow, is it really you?”
He couldn’t speak so he just nodded while trying to come to terms with seeing Lars again. To being face-to-face with his blood. He wouldn’t call Lars family, not anymore.
“Thank God, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Lars smiled and pulled him into a hug. Somehow his little brother was now not just taller but also broader. His arms felt like a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of him.