Page 18 of My Craving
“Duncan?” His surprise lasts less than a second before irritation replaces it. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I should answer him, but my attention stays on the man standing too close to him. His hand is no longer on Nash’s hip, although I can still see exactly where it was. The stranger meets my eyes, glances at Nash, and apparently decides he wants no part of this because he steps away. Only then do I look at Nash. “I came for you.”
His arms fold across his chest. “You came all the way here because I quit? What were you planning to do, drag me back to Murphy Enterprises?”
“I was planning to see you tonight regardless. I simply expected it to be at your apartment.”
That quiets him for a moment, but not long enough to erase the anger from his face. “You seriously thought I was still going to dinner with you after what happened?”
“I didn’t expect dinner. I expected the opportunity to explain.”
Nash glances toward the man who walked away before looking back at me. “And you decided you needed to explain right now?”
“I decided that when I saw another man with his hand on you.” His eyebrows climb, and I don’t need him to ask the obvious question. I’ve spent most of my life watching jealousy make other people irrational, without understanding why they let an emotion interfere with reason. Experiencing it is considerably different from observing it. “I didn’t like seeing him touch you.”
A slow smile replaces some of Nash’s irritation. “You’re jealous.”
“Yes.” There’s no reason to deny something this obvious, especially when I followed him across Philadelphia because waiting until eight was no longer acceptable.
Nash looks toward the dance floor and then back at me. “You do realize I can leave here with whoever I want.”
“I do, and I’m not going to pretend I’d like watching someone else put his hands on you.”
His smile grows, the anger that was there when he first turned around fading. A laugh escapes him, and I let my attention move past him to the illuminated sign above the bar. Daddy Night. I noticed the advertisements when Kenji and I came in, but seeing Nash here gives them an entirely different meaning. I’m familiar enough with the lifestyle to understand the basics, although I’ve never had a reason to consider any of it beyond that. “So this is what you came here looking for.”
Nash follows my gaze to the sign. When he turns back, the amusement is still there. “Maybe.”
The deliberately unhelpful answer doesn’t surprise me. I step closer. “We need to talk, and I’d rather not do it in the middle of a dance floor.”
His eyes narrow. “If this is about my resignation.”
“It’s about more than your resignation.” I reach for his hand, giving him every opportunity to pull away when my fingers close around his. He doesn’t. His gaze drops to our joined hands before lifting to my face again.
“This better be good.”
“I came here to find you. I have no intention of wasting the trip.”
Nash rolls his eyes, but he comes with me when I lead him toward the quieter hallway at the rear of the club. Kenji passes us without slowing.
“Second door on the left, sir.”
“Thank you.” I tap the earpiece twice, pull it free and slip it into my pocket.
Nash watches me do it before looking toward Kenji’s retreating back.
A laugh breaks through whatever irritation he has left. “You are fucking unbelievable.” There’s little point in responding when he’s smiling again. His amusement grows when I stop at the second door and open it. “You’re taking me to a private room in a kink club so we can talk?”
“The music is quieter back here.”
“Uh-huh.”
I gesture toward the room. “After you.”
Nash shakes his head as he walks past me, still laughing under his breath. I follow and close the door, reducing the music to a distant thrum. He turns to face me, and some of the amusement leaves his expression.
“If this is your way of convincing me not to quit, you went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”
“This isn’t about convincing you to keep your job. I followed you here because you walked out of my office before I could explain what you saw.”
