by
Fortune As an heir to the Stouten family fortune, Brandon Stouten had anything he could want. But the girl his parents tried to foist on him for his birthday was a bit much, especially given that she had no idea she was being offered as a suitable bride. When Brandon balks at the unwilling gift, it causes a fistfight with her brother, and he escapes the party in the company of a tall, willowy angel of a man—a stranger who recognizes Brandon’s hesitance for what it is. When a night of comfort and wisdom becomes an ache in Brandon’s heart, he goes to the only man he knows will understand—the brother who walked away from the family fortune.
Taylor Simmons has dressed celebrities and business moguls, but none of them ever filled out a pair of slacks quite as well as Brandon Stouten. Seeing an achingly beautiful and hurt young man, Taylor offers him insight and clarity that becomes a morning filled with passion—and regret. Famously conservative, the Stouten family would never give up one of their own to the demon they see in Taylor. Unfortunately for them, Taylor has no intention of letting Brandon go.
This story takes place in the same universe as the Sam's Cafe Romances, with Fortune's Pawn taking place a couple years prior to The King's Mate.
Publisher: Independently Published
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 18-25
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Class Differences, One Night Stand
Word Count: 30000
Setting: New England, USA
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters
“Short Stoli.” Voice raw and cracked, Brandon Stouten was sure he sounded as broken as he looked—sweaty and scraped, his dark hair plastered to his skin and his designer suit soaked through with sweat, blood, and champagne. He combed a hand through the tangled, wet strands of hair and sat at the bar.
“Of course, Mr. Stouten.” The uniformed man behind the bar poured exactingly and set the drink in front of Brandon. “Are you okay?” He moved one hand towards the phone.
“No! Please. Don’t you understand? I needed to get out of there.”
Brandon could feel the bartender’s scrutiny, an obvious piercing gaze, head to toe and then back. “Are you sure?”
Smoothly, Brandon’s arm was taken. “He’s fine, Rodi.”
The bartender’s gaze shifted, and he nodded. “Sure thing, Tay.”
READ MOREBrandon shivered. Who in the world would save him? Was he going to be dragged back to the party? The mysterious Tay hadn’t let go of his arm. Brandon tossed down the vodka and tapped next to the glass to indicate he wanted another.
“You left.” That was Tay, the voice close, right at his ear.
Brandon shuddered. He needed that drink, but Rodi stood at the far end of the bar talking to another customer. He hadn’t seen Brandon’s request for more. Tay didn’t hesitate, he moved forward, leaned over the bar to grab the bottle of Stoli, and poured every bit as exactingly as Rodi had. Tall, willowy, and elegant, he managed without looking even a little awkward.
“Thanks.” Brandon drained that one too. This guy must think he was some drunk lunatic. Truth was, he didn’t drink, not usually. Couldn’t afford the risk.
“Need more?”
Brandon knew if he got up the room would be spinning. It was a lot of alcohol, quickly, and he hadn’t gotten away without drinking earlier. He tended to be a bit of a lightweight when it came to alcohol, probably because he drank so seldom. Slowly he shook his head, just once.
“Good.” Tay gazed into his eyes, searching, and maybe he found something. “If I help you stand up, are you going to puke on my shoes?”
Brandon closed his eyes. “No.”
Tay must have looked over to Rodi, cause his voice seemed suddenly far away. “He owe you for the drinks?”
“Nah. Stouten tab, from the party. I’ll move the charge over.”
“Thanks, Rodi.”
For a slender guy, Tay was stronger than Brandon expected, and he guided Brandon out with one arm wrapped over his shoulder, and the other gripping Brandon’s waist.
“What about the party?”
“I think you’re done.”
“Dad won’t think so.”
There was a long pause. Too long. Did other people hate his dad as much as he did?
“Your dad is distracted. You succeeded at that much.”
“Brice sent you?” If his older brother had sent Tay, Brandon needed to go, no matter how good the hand gently gripping his hip might feel.
“You mean the younger Mr. Stouten.” It wasn’t quite a question. He doesn’t work for Dad. Thank God.
“Yeah.”
“No.” Tay sighed, the sort of long, drawn-out deep sigh that made you wonder if he was going to inhale again. Brandon expected that he would speak, but he didn’t. He guided Brandon slowly through the halls of the venerable club, and out the door into the fresh air, and then quickly to the side.
The stink of cigarette smoke filled the air, a cluster of the young men from the party collected by one giant pillar. Panic descended on Brandon in a film of sweat, but the attention of the smokers was elsewhere, and Tay, whoever he was, seemed to know the layout better than Brandon did, swiftly taking them between a hedgerow and the building.
They could fuck here if they wanted. Total concealment. Was that Tay’s plan? Brandon swallowed. I could get on board with that. Shit. I’ve definitely had too much to drink.
Tay guided them swiftly along another row, then out from between the bushes to a parking lot. These cars did not belong to any of the attendees. Brandon knew that at once. They ended up at an old Buick, new enough to have some modern rounded edges but still massive. Tay opened the passenger door.
“Get in.”
“We’re leaving?” The fluttering in Brandon’s stomach wasn’t healthy—not with all the alcohol pooling there.
“Right about now they’re discussing why you got in that fight. Do you really want to be there for that?”
The shake of his head was abbreviated, fast, and he slid into the seat quickly. He waited for the door to open and Tay to get in to say anything more. “What if they miss me?”
Tay looked at him and cupped a hand at his cheek, sliding it back over his ear. “Have they ever?”
So, he doesn’t work for Dad, but he knows exactly who I am. Who is this guy? Leaning his head back against the headrest, Brandon grumbled at the gray felt of the hardtop, “I was supposed to be celebrating.”
Tay started the car. There was a moment of noise, of the engine turning over, right at ignition, but other than that, the cabin remained remarkably quiet.
“I’m sorry about your party.” Tay glanced at him.
“Just get me away from here. They’ll start looking soon.”
COLLAPSE
