Cage Match, page 12
Toward home. As the word rang in his mind, Jabez knew he"d become far too attached to both the man and his living situation. Even if Andreas gave him enough severance pay to travel the world, there was no place else he wanted to go.
Realizing how much he cared scared the hell out of him. He hunkered in brooding silence, closing Andreas out because he"d let him too far in.
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Chapter Nine
It was the first night in a long time that Andreas had slept in his bed alone. He missed the warmth of Jabez"s big body pressed up against his side or curved around his back. He missed the weight of the other man"s arm slung over him or his heavy leg pinning him down. How had he become accustomed to having a bed partner so quickly?
In the past, he"d found it annoying when one of his overnight guests stayed too long. They were sexy and fun, but he wanted them gone by pretty early in the morning so he could get on with his day. He"d never once felt that way about Jabez. He could linger in bed with him for hours and never grow tired of it, maybe because Jabez didn"t chatter and gossip about stupid things.
As he heaved an impatient sigh and rolled over again, he wondered if Jabez missed sleeping with him too. After their trip to B-town, he"d remained quiet, sunk in his memories. Andreas had wanted to patch up their earlier quarrel and take back his suggestion they put their sexual relationship on hold. But considering Jabez"s comment about taking his earnings and leaving, Andreas realized he was the one who was going to end up with a broken heart when his lover eventually walked away. Better to stick to his resolve to back off on the sex that had transformed into deeper emotions on his part.
Maybe if he gave Jabez time and space, he"d realize he had feelings for Andreas too. If not, wasn"t there some old saying about “if you love something, set it free”?
The uneasy night passed in fitful dozes and long, sleepless stretches, and when Andreas woke in the morning, he had the prospect of combat with Jabez to look forward to. He"d come to equate the hand-to-hand duels with sex. They left him as charged up as any foreplay.
Before he finished dressing, his phone rang. His father"s voice snapped through the earpiece. “Andreas, come into the office today. I have something to discuss with you.”
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The forbidding tone made him nervous, but Andreas chose to ignore it and use the opportunity presented to him. “Good, because there"s something I need to share with you too. An idea I had about—”
“Eleven thirty in my office then. I have a lunch date at noon.” His father cut the connection before he could respond.
His stomach churned as it often did when he had to deal with his father. They had few personal things to talk about, no shared history of baseball games or father-son fishing trips. Their contact throughout the years had always been brief and businesslike.
Andreas had been another appointment for Quentin Fortias to schedule into his overcrowded day.
The only good thing about his father"s early-morning call was that it distracted him from fixating on Jabez. When he went to the training room where Jabez was practicing slow-motion martial arts moves, Andreas simply watched the beautiful dance and rippling play of muscles for a few moments before interrupting.
“I have to meet my father in the city this morning. I won"t have time for a workout.”
Jabez brought his hands down to his sides and turned toward him. In the early-morning sunlight pouring through the glass, his eyes were a bright blue that made Andreas"s heart flip. “All right.”
Andreas paused on the verge of asking him along. Jabez could wait during the meeting, and afterward they could go to a restaurant and see some sights around the city. It would be a pleasure to show him the art museum and the ships in the harbor. Or they could drive out to the nature preserve and take a walk. But they weren"t dating, and he was supposed to be distancing himself. Andreas closed his mouth and walked from the room.
He ate breakfast alone, organized the materials for his presentation, including running through his speech, then went out to the garage and got in the glider. He sat for a moment behind the wheel, thinking about what his father might want with him today. He"d never call him in for a commendation, so it was probably a reprimand for something he"d done wrong.
As he"d done many times before, Andreas ran through his recent actions to try to figure out what his transgression might have been. The top contender was punching Timon in front of the club. Somebody in the crowd taking footage of celebrities had spread images of the fight to the media. At least there was no way his father would"ve found out about the visit to Brick Town or his houseguest, Jabez.
There was no point in worrying about facts he couldn"t change. Andreas took a deep breath and exhaled, expelling his anxiety before zipping out of the driveway. Soon he was on the highway retracing yesterday"s route into the city.
As country quickly gave way to the urban zone, Andreas saw the glistening white splendor of New Englandia with new eyes. After the squalor and filth of Brick Town, the sparkling buildings made of faux marble and Sturdi-glass appeared almost too
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pristine to be real. The architectural style was all new-Greco-Roman chic since the city had been built postplague. The classic columns and symmetrical facades were pleasing to the eye, and the gardens, statues, and fountains that decorated the city were lovely, but for the first time Andreas perceived the false front they presented.
Everything wasn"t beauty and light in New Englandia any more than it was in the dark tumor of B-town. There were hidden ills beneath the glossy surface, including the mysterious laboratory Leonidas had claimed existed—if the “king” had told the truth.
Andreas decided to look for the building when his appointment with his father was over. If he could locate it, he"d try to find out the truth and who was accountable for what went on inside.
But right now he needed to concentrate on maintaining a cool, collected front as he faced off against his own personal demon. Andreas was already sweating, and not from heat, as he walked from the car park into the Fortias Building and took the lift to his father"s office suite on the top floor.
As he walked down the hushed hallway, he ticked off his talking points about the Brick Town project. He decided to outline the pluses for Fortias before beginning his laundry list of B-town"s needs. Not only would they be fulfilling community needs, but their generosity would give a boost to the Fortias name. Urban revitalization and new jobs would create more consumers for all the products and services of the corporation"s many companies.
His father"s secretary greeted him. “He"s ready for you.” Which translated meant, You’ve kept him waiting, and he’s already annoyed.
Andreas checked the time on his watch. He wasn"t even late yet. It was several minutes before eleven thirty. He surreptitiously wiped his damp palms on his trousers before entering the office and extending his hand across his father"s desk. “Father.” The image of himself in twenty-five years glanced up and nodded, but didn"t rise or shake his hand. “Andreas. Sit down.”
He sank into the chair and gazed across the highly polished surface of the desk at his father"s folded hands, then forced himself to lift his gaze to his eyes.
“Is there a problem?” Andreas followed his father"s cue and cut through any pleasantries. He had a sinking feeling today was exactly the wrong time to present his plan and that there would probably never be a right one.
“I"ve heard about your new living arrangement. It"s unacceptable. Perhaps if you"d acted discreetly, you might"ve gotten away with hosting a killer in your house, but now that you and that man are splashed all over the media, you"ll have to get rid of him.”
“Excuse me?” Andreas had caught a glimpse of the fight on the media-screen the morning after it had happened, but he"d been so focused on his trip to Brick Town that he hadn"t listened to more than a few words of the broadcast.
“I said get rid of him. You"re damaging the Fortias name with your behavior, fist fighting over a whore.”
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“How did they find out about Jabez?” But Andreas already guessed the answer.
His friends had spread the word.
“It doesn"t matter. I knew about your latest peccadillo days ago, and I should"ve said something then, but I hoped you"d get bored quickly and send the man back where you got him. Now it"s gotten messy, so I"m forced to intervene.” His scowl deepened. “I don"t have time for this nonsense. If the media approaches you, you should express remorse for drinking too much and fighting, but refuse to comment on your lover.”
“I am sorry for hitting Timon, although I wasn"t drunk. But I don’t apologize for bringing Jabez home. He"s been training me to defend myself and… Actually, „no comment." You don"t need to know about him any more than the media does. He"s my business.”
“No, son. He"s our business, because unchecked gossip can affect our business.
You need to learn what you do has repercussions. It reflects on the family name, which in turn reflects on the corporation"s image.”
Andreas swallowed and counted slowly to ten while keeping his hands loose on the arms of the chair. “I understand that, which is why I"ve been discreet, except for the incident outside the club. I"ll call the press, make my apology, and explain that Jabez is my new bodyguard. You have a platoon of bodyguards, Father. No one is going to question me hiring one.”
He held still and waited. His father was the master of nerve-racking pauses. But when Quentin spoke again, his tone had actually lightened. “That"s not a bad spin. I suppose you can keep him around in that capacity, but I don"t want to see any more news about you splashed across the media. This is a delicate time for Fortias. Public opinion isn"t as…favorable as it used to be. We want to present an impeccable reputation to both our investors and the general public.” Andreas gritted his teeth at his father"s arrogant bestowing of permission to keep Jabez as if he were a new pet. He was twenty-five years old, but the man still treated him as if he were ten. Andreas hid his frustration and took advantage of his father"s abrupt change in mood to bring up his idea.
“Speaking of favorable impressions, I have a proposal which might help improve our corporate image. I"d like to show you my plan before presenting it to the board. I"ve sent it to your e-box. If you"ll open it on your screen, I can outline it quickly. I know you"re in a time crunch.”
“Yes, I am.” His father glanced at his watch. Andreas knew there were almost twenty minutes left in their meeting. The harangue about his improprieties hadn"t taken that long. “I"ll look over what you sent me and get back to you.”
“I"d like to go over it with you. If you"d allow me to explain a few things—”
“If your proposal"s strong enough to be presented to the board, it shouldn"t require extra explanation.” He rose from his chair. “I need to get ready for my lunch meeting. I"ll talk to you about this later.”
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Dismissed, there was nothing Andreas could do but head for the door. If he tried to argue the point, his father would view him as a wheedling child. He"d never offer Andreas the same measure of courtesy he gave his business peers by hearing him out.
Although he"d spent less than a half hour in the building, by the time Andreas reached his vehicle again, he was wrung out. Hell, maybe if he did spend more time in the office, he could become a viable part of the corporation instead of just “the heir.” He"d spent too many years avoiding responsibility and pursuing fun. Since no one had expected anything of him, he hadn"t given it.
Now he was ready to step up. But in order for the board or his father to take his plans seriously, he had to prove his knowledge of the corporation and its inner workings. It was time to study as he never had in college, read about every company under the Fortias umbrella, and figure out how the whole intricate mess worked. The prospect sounded more challenging, and certainly a lot less interesting, than learning to fight had proved to be.
As he drove from the lot, he called Timon.
“What"s up, bruiser?” He sounded as sarcastically cheery as always. “Calling to invite me over so your friend can pound me too? Mm, I wouldn"t mind a pounding from him.”
A sincere apology died on Andreas"s tongue, and he had to manufacture one. “I just wanted to say I"m sorry. Since the footage apparently got broadcast everywhere, I"ll be making an apology through the media too.”
“Daddy"s orders?”
“No. It"s the right thing to do. I was wrong, and I"m glad you"re not pressing charges for assault.”
“Who says I"m not? Kidding! I get it. You were only defending your boy"s honor.
What a knight in shining armor you turned out to be.”
“He"s not my boyfriend. He"s my bodyguard.”
“That"s the official story?”
“Yes. It would"ve been nice if you"d kept your mouth shut about who he is.” Andreas stopped the glider at a light and sat tapping his fingers against the wheel, wondering how he could politely cut the call short.
“You can blame Rabi for sharing the juicy details about your lover with the press.
He knew they"d eat up the gladiator-turns-houseboy angle. I think he owes a lot of money to his bookie right now, so he probably wanted some quick cash.”
“How"s your face?” Andreas changed the subject.
“The cut on my cheekbone is healing, but my eye"s black, blue, purple, and red.
My little minx, Xion, tells me it"s sexy, makes me look so badass.”
“Is that the boy you picked up that night?”
“Yep. You know me. I don"t usually like to take my tweenies home, but he was so sweet, tending to my injury and all, that I think I"ll keep him around awhile.” 84
“Again, I"m truly sorry for hitting you.”
“No big deal. Throw a big „forgive me" party in my honor, and all will be forgotten. But seriously, I miss hanging with you. Ever since you bought Mr. Muscles, you don"t spend any time with me. I don"t need a party, just a scrap of your time. Aren"t we friends anymore?”
Andreas hesitated as the thought flew through his mind that they weren"t. He no longer wanted Timon"s company, no longer found him amusing, and never had found him all that likeable. The hesitation was long enough to throw Timon into a fit.
“My God, what was that, a pause? You paused?”
The light changed, and Andreas drove forward. “Of course you"re my friend, but I feel like I"m changing, figuring out some stuff about myself. I need some time to think about what I want from—”
“Oh no. Thinking is overrated. Listen, whatever I"ve done to piss you off, you"ve got to let me make it up to you.”
It suddenly occurred to Andreas that Timon was trying too hard. He was the one who"d been punched in the face but he was insistent on fixing their friendship. This wasn"t the Timon he knew, who could be vindictive to a painful degree. Something was up. And then what his father had said earlier hit him.
“I knew about your latest peccadillo days ago. I should’ve said something then, but I hoped you’d get bored quickly and send the man back where you got him.” How had he found out about Jabez? Who kept him abreast of the details of Andreas"s life, which he always seemed to know about with a paternal sixth sense?
Andreas and Timon used to joke about Quentin having spies watching him. Andreas had never imagined that the joke was a cover-up, but the spy was real.
“Timon, you want to get together? Meet me for lunch right now at the Acropolis.
Don"t bring your new friend. Come alone.”
“Well, that sounds more dire than friendly when you say it like that. Are you going to black my other eye?”
“I just want to talk. You"re right. We have some issues to work out.”
* * * * *
On the way to the restaurant, Andreas took a roundabout route, cruising the streets in the area King Leonidas had described. There were plenty of white buildings, but most had many windows. He was ready to give up the search and resume it after his lunch date when he turned a corner and saw a facility such as the king had described—nearly windowless, basically a warehouse but set in lush landscaping so it blended with the rest of the buildings on the block.
Andreas brought the glider to a slow crawl past the block-long structure. The discreet sign in front proclaimed: ASCLEPIUS ENTERPRISES. He turned and made a complete circuit of a city block, the perimeter of the grounds. There was nothing to
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indicate what was manufactured there. He could only assume, if Jabez"s old friend told the truth, that it was a scientific facility, perhaps experimenting with pharmaceuticals since Asclepius was the Greek god of healing.
What better way to check the efficacy of the drugs than on human rather than animal test subjects? The dregs of B-town were perfect candidates because they wouldn"t be reported missing.
It was nearing the time he"d set to meet Timon, so he pulled away from the curb and headed toward the restaurant. He mentally prepared himself to ask his friend the hard questions about exactly what services he performed for his father.
Although Timon"s apartment wasn"t too many blocks from the Acropolis, he could be counted on to arrive late. He was always late. However, when Andreas walked into the dining room, Timon was already seated at a table. He almost didn"t recognize him at first because his hair was dyed what might have been its original color—brown—and his head was bent over the wine list.
Andreas didn"t wait for the hostess but crossed the restaurant and slid into the other chair at the table. “You"re on time.”
“I know. Isn"t it scandalous?” He looked up, and Andreas felt a jolt of guilt at the sunset colors around his left eye and cheekbone. “God, I"m sorry about that.” He indicated the injury.
