Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Apparently so,” Ash replied mildly. “Even straight men. So he kicked you out for getting hard?”
“That’s just it. He didn’t.” Vic sighed. “He kicked me out because he told me he used to play cello, and I offered to pay his university tuition if he’d give me lessons. Remember I used to play when I was a small thing?”
“I remember,” Ash said with fond exasperation. “I just don’t remember you being this oblivious.”
“I didn’t do anything!” He squinted one eye up. “Did I?”
“Vic…” Ash shook his head, blowing out sharply enough to make his wild, dark hair stir. “You can’t just throw money at strangers like it’ll fix all their problems.”
He frowned. “Isn’t that why I’m on the board of seventeen different charities? Because yes, money will fix many people’s problems?”
“It will,” Ash said gently. “But people have pride, too. You can help them and still respect their dignity, and what you did…” His lips compressed into a thoughtful line. “That…just…”
“Oh.”
Vic pressed his knuckles against his mouth, letting that sink in. So he’d offended Amani’s dignity, probably treating him like…ah, fuck. Fucking hell, he’d just tromped in and—no wonder Amani had called him self-centered. He’d been so me me me, let me fix this, do this for me, serve me and I’ll take care of your problems when Amani was already stuck in a customer service position and forced to be nice to him. He felt like he’d swallowed a damned lead weight, and it was sinking deeper and deeper until eventually it would drag him down. Muttering, he pressed his face into his palm and closed his eyes.
“I’m fucking trash.”
“No, you’re rich. Well, yes, you’re also trash,” Ash teased. “But we just…we have our problems, Vic. But our problems aren’t like other people’s problems, and other people’s problems aren’t like ours. If we really want to try to be decent people and not spoiled rich shits, we have to learn to look at other people’s problems how they see them, instead of how we see them.”
“I know. I do. And I can’t believe I was such a fuck to someone I’d just met.” Exhaling, Vic straightened and eyed Ash. “When did you get to know so much about this, eh?”
Ash shrugged, hunching in on himself a little with a tiny, sweet smile and glancing away, that familiar pink blush in his cheeks, highlighting pale golden freckles. Lovelorn fucking sod. “When I fell in love with my valet and had to remember I’m also his boss, and I can hurt him in a lot of ways.”
“Have you ever?”
“Sometimes,” Ash admitted softly.
“What did you do?”
Ash lifted his head, looking at him steadily. “Apologized.”
“Mngh.” Vic grimaced. “I think if I show my face at that parlor again, they’ll dump scalding oil on my head.”
“Are you willing to risk that for a stranger?”
“I’d like to make it right.” Vic hesitated. “Amani was…”
Intriguing. Compelling. Captivating. Strange. An enigma, this question without an answer and I…
…if I see him as someone real, not just his role, I need to treat him that way and make it right. Stranger or not.
“He was nice,” he finished, because fuck if he could articulate all of that to Ash in a way that would make sense; in a way that wouldn’t rouse questions that were more than he could deal with right now. “I’m sorry if I hurt him—but I don’t want to be pushy, either.”
“Tell you what.” Ash plucked his phone from the breast pocket of his suit. “I’ll text him your number and say you want to talk, to apologize, but the ball’s in his court. If he calls you, he calls you. If he doesn’t, walk away and give him his space.”
Vic quirked a brow. “That’s very ‘passing notes in the schoolyard.’ Next you’ll be sending him a little folding fortune flower with ‘Do you like Vic? Circle yes or no.’”
With a snort, Ash lowered his gaze to his phone, thumbs tapping away. “Do you want to know if he likes you?”
“No.”
“Liar. Amani’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“Well, yes, but I can acknowledge that objectively without it being about—oh, will you just fucking text him?” Vic grumbled, his ears heating. Fucking brat.
Ash finished what he was tapping with a flourish. “I just did. Let’s see if he calls you.”
They waited for several moments, time ticking past one second after the other; Ash pursed his lips, glancing sidelong, tapping his foot, while Vic picked his phone up off the desk. It wasn’t on mute; he just didn’t have any calls or texts. Of course he didn’t. It wasn’t like Amani would be sitting by his own phone, just waiting for something like this—and even if he’d noticed the text, who knew if he’d even respond after how rude Vic had been?
God, this really was like fucking high school.
He stared at his phone. Stared at Ash. Ash stared back, then shrugged, spreading his hands. “We could go to dinn—”