“And yet here we are. That speaks to me of something unsaid.”
“I like how you speak,” Jonah said. “The way you phrase things is so different and yet the same.”
“I will take that compliment. A man in a coffee shop called me something much worse yesterday.”
“Why?”
Sacha shrugged. “I did not ask, but I was talking on my phone in Russian and I don’t think he liked it.”
Jonah snorted. “This is London. If he doesn’t like mixing with a thousand other cultures on a daily basis he’s in the wrong city.”
Sacha said nothing. He didn’t much care for the sensitivities of angry white men buying overpriced coffee. He did care about the sensation of Jonah’s knees brushing his, though. It was nice. Pleasant. And any other bland descriptor he could think of to keep him from hooking Jonah’s chair closer. What is it about this man? He is hypnotising me.
Or maybe it was the champagne. It was a drink Sacha truly did enjoy, but lacking the time for socialising and hangovers both, he didn’t partake much. He’d had the same bottle of vodka in his freezer for over a year.
Still. He drained his glass and retrieved two more from a passing waiter. “You promised me canapés too.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Jonah eyed Sacha with the kind of smile that would look good wrapped around Sacha’s cock. “Where can they be?”
He gazed beyond Sacha, scanning the room while Sacha fought the filthy images bombarding his brain. But it was a tough ask. Jonah was a beautiful man, tall, strong, and with those ridiculous eyes, and Sacha was but human. It would be a strange thing indeed if he didn’t think about fucking Jonah, another pleasure he rarely had time for these days. He wondered if—
Something changed. Sacha blinked, mistrusting his assessment of a man he did not know, but the set of Jonah’s jaw was unmistakable, and different to the tension he’d carried when he’d faced his parents in a lie. He is unsettled. But why? Was it Sacha? The stranger on Jonah’s arm? The unfamiliar knee brushing against his?
No.
That wasn’t it. The discomfort in Jonah’s eyes was years old. Sacha knew like he knew the champagne they were drinking cost more per bottle than a regular person’s monthly salary.
No one in this room was a regular person, least of all Jonah Gray, but whoever he was, he didn’t deserve the anxiety that had suddenly seized him, stealing away his soft smile and kind eyes.
Sacha knew that too.
He followed Jonah’s gaze, tracing it to the cluster of people who had just entered the ballroom. Three pairs of heteronormative couples. The first two were old enough to be contemporaries of Jonah’s parents, the last set were younger. Sacha eyed them, considering the man and the woman and pondering which had caught Jonah’s attention. It was the man, it had to be. With his slick hair and sneering face, he had the air of someone Sacha knew he’d instantly hate if they were acquainted.
Sacha didn’t want to look at him any longer, and he didn’t want Jonah to either. “Hey.”
Jonah jumped. “Sorry. What?”
“If something upsets you to see, don’t look.”
“I’m not upset.”
Sacha stood, blocking Jonah’s view of the man with preposterous hair. “Of course. Because you are not looking.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Does it need to?”
Jonah stared, his shoulders rising and falling too fast. He opened his mouth. Shut it again. And shook his head. “Maybe not.”
“Come.” Sacha held out his hand.”
Jonah took it without seeming to think much about what he was doing. “Where?”
“That doesn’t matter either.”
“I thought you were hungry?”
“I am always hungry, Jonah Gray. You will learn this about me.”
Jonah’s tight features found the smile Sacha had somehow missed. “Is that right?”
“Yes. And do you know what else you will learn?”
“Um…no?”
Sacha made yet another impulsive decision and took Jonah’s hands in his. Considering they hadn’t so much as shaken hands in greeting since they met a few hours ago, it was a bold move, but Sacha didn’t care. Being bold had kept him alive. He eased Jonah close enough that anyone nearby would maybe think they were about to kiss. “No date of mine will ever have face like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” Sacha put two fingers to Jonah’s lips and pulled them down into a comical pout. “Or I will think you are maybe hungry too.”
“I am hungry. If you stop yanking my face around we can do something about it.”
“You don’t like me touching your face?”
“I shouldn’t. I don’t know you.”
“But?”
Jonah’s smile returned full force. “How do you know there’s a but?”
Sacha let his hand drop, disproportionately pleased he’d distracted Jonah from whatever had upset him. “I do not know you either and somehow I like touching your face. Perhaps you feel the same.”
“I’m not confirming either way—shit, hang on.”
They were interrupted by someone who seemed to know Jonah, and for the next hour or so, they just kept coming while Sacha drank more champagne and watched, occasionally rescuing Jonah from awkward questions about his existence.
It was late by the time Eleanor reappeared and towed Sacha away.
Jonah shot Sacha a panicked look.
Sacha smiled and hoped it translated to the three words Jonah so desperately needed to hear. Ya poluchil eto.
I got this.
“So…” Eleanor grasped Sacha’s arm tightly, the way only mothers could. “I’m so sorry my son didn’t see fit to tell us a thing about you before tonight. His father and I would’ve liked to spend more time with you before we leave the city for the festive season.”
“Where are you going?”
“To our estate in the Cotswolds. We like a country Christmas. My husband misses the farm he grew up on.”
“My father grew up on a farm too. It made him happier than his castles in the sky.”
“Yes, it’s the simple things, isn’t it? Of all our children, Jonah perhaps knows this the most.”
Sacha wanted to ask her how many children she had, but to do so would’ve given him away. Instead, he nodded and searched his brain for what little knowledge he’d gleaned about the advertising firm in the offices opposite his own. “He is very grounded. Works hard. You have to when you are the boss, no?”
“Indeed. Jonah doesn’t enjoy life without a challenge.”
This time, Sacha’s nod was from the heart. “I do not understand a man that does.”
“Or a woman, I hope. This world is for more than men.”
Sacha chuckled. “I know. My mother was a strong woman.”
“She’s not with us anymore?”
“No.” Sacha glanced away from Eleanor, searching for Jonah. He found him still surrounded, men and women both fawning for attention Jonah plainly didn’t want to give, though his eyes remained kind.
Sacha did not possess such patience. He pondered what he might’ve done if this night had been something else. If Jonah really was his date, his lover, his…person. And he didn’t have to look far for the answer. Sacha would’ve rescued him in a heartbeat, hustled him back to their quiet corner so they could drink in peace, share morsels of tiny, pretentious food, and then bid the room goodbye so they could go home and—