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“So, you’re implying it’s childish to at least know the last name of the person you’re having sex with regularly, but it’s not childish to lie about being the youngest son of one of the wealthiest families in the country?” Jonah questioned.

My shoulders fell. I mumbled, “Well if you phrase it like that…”

“Does he even know about your… whole… pheromone thing?”

Jonah struggled to refer to my scent output in the same way I did—“the affliction”. “You never call it by its name,” I jokingly whined.

“Because it’s not an affliction.” Jonah swallowed the last of his beer and shifted a now sleeping Jason onto the table. He propped an elbow up, placing his fist under his chin. “Your refusal to tell him who you are is about you not wanting to accept who you are.”

“When the fuck did they start putting psychology degrees in cereal boxes?” I griped. “First Jason and now you?”

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve resented who and what you are. If you don’t tell him the truth, you’ll never give him the option to either accept or reject the real you.”

I quickly turned the tables, tired of the focus of conversation being on me. “What about you? Have you told that ‘annoying alpha’ that he’s not actually annoying, but you have a stick so far up your ass that you refuse to entertain him on company time?”

Jonah scowled. “I have nothing up my ass.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d like to change that.” I waggled my eyebrows at him, laughing loudly.

The conversation from the night before lingered in my mind as I watched Delaney. He seemed more at ease as he walked from the bed to the bathroom, fussing all the while,

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times.” His yell was heavy with frustration and when he popped his head out of the bathroom, he directed his ire at me. “Do not leave marks where anyone can see them! Now I have to go and find concealer tomorrow because someone wanted to treat me like a goddamn chew toy instead of the delicate flower I am.” He grimaced before he moved back into the bathroom.

“Please, there was nothing delicate about the way you rode me a few minutes ago, love. I too, have my fair share of marks.”

Delaney crossed the threshold of the bathroom, stepping back into the bedroom, glaring at me. “Assuming that you actually have a real job and aren’t an assassin, escort, or spoiled rich kid, I would think that your clients, customers, patients, whatever, don’t have to actually see you often. I, on the other hand, work directly with the public.”

I didn’t know why I offered this one truth, but I did so with a soft voice. “I’m a chef.”

Delaney's gasp was loud, unnecessarily so, which admittedly made me chuckle. “You don’t say?”

I sat up in bed, questioning, “When did you figure it out?”

“Only a person who genuinely loves cooking will name each dish and go on and on about finding ingredients that aren’t local to this area while at a Farmers Market at the ass crack of dawn. It wasn’t difficult to figure out, Eli.”

“You didn’t have to go with me,” I pointed out.

“And you also didn’t have to hide the fact you're a chef, yet here we are. Both of us have a penchant for looking rather foolish in the midst of doing mundane things.”

Adopting a playful pout, I called out, “I resent you saying my career is mundane, Laney.”

“I also resent you torturing me for hours about the difference between a leek and a green onion,” Delaney laughed as he disappeared into the restroom.

“There is a difference! The leek is better suited for creamy soups and stocks. It also has a milder flavor!”

He yelled over the shower, “I don’t care, Eli. I really, really, don’t care.”

“See if I come to your aid whenever you spring a leek.”

“That pun was so bad, I can’t believe I just had your dick in my mouth,” Delaney loudly groaned.

I laughed, “To be fair, your dick was in my mouth as well, sweetness.” My laughter was cut short when the landline rang. My hands balled up into fists as my heart beat out a rapid, staccato rhythm. I tried to slow down, reminding myself that my family could be contacting me for any number of reasons. I made my way to the study and by the fifth ring, I answered. “Yes?”

“Much better than the usual way you answer, son,” my mother stated, the superior air in her tone thick and smothering.

“To what do I owe the displeasure, Mother?”

“Always the jokester, Elias,” She tittered softly before she launched into her real reason for calling. “You know that there is nothing you can do in this city without your father and I knowing, yes?” As she continued, my mouth ran dry and ice flooded my veins. “You and your little friend are invited to dinner. It’s a grand event, actually. Your father is receiving an award for—”