The Superior Jewel

Ryan turned his back, knowing he shouldn’t, and walked into the kitchen. He filled a glass and returned to Micky who seemed a bit distracted. Had the man just looked in Ryan’s closet?

“Thank you.” Micky said disdainfully, then took the glass, looking at it as if what was in it was disgusting.

And that was no thank you, not with that tone. Except, what did he mean those restaurants? “No problem. So, why are you here?”

“I needed to talk to you. It’s important.”

Important? They hadn’t even been properly introduced. How can anything he had to say to Ryan be important? “Oh. Okay.” He shouldn’t close the door. He needed to leave it open, so Micky knew he wasn’t totally invited in. “How… how did you know where I lived?”

Again, he had that condescending countenance on his face. “Who do you think ordered all that food? Mr. Branwyth?” he smirked.

“What?” Ryan glanced at his table with the wonderful spaghetti still steaming up that tomatoey fragrance and just like that his appetite was gone. “He didn’t?”

“Of course not. I always do that kind of thing for him. It’s embarrassing, really. So, of course, I knew your address. All this food”—he waved at the table—“is why I’m here.”

Thank God he hadn’t shut the door. Ryan’s stomach was turning because all he could smell now was Micky’s cologne. Had he bathed in it? “So what about it?”

“What are you to Mr. Branwyth?”

Yes, what was he exactly? A weekend fling? A boyfriend? The boyfriend? Apparently, he was at least the one receiving Jansen’s interest at the moment. Except Jansen didn’t even bother to order all this food himself. He had his secretary do it. What did that mean?

What about the note? Was it in Jansen’s hand… or Micky’s?

Oh God. Could Jansen have dictated that note? How fucking embarrassing was that? Did he then have to explain what he meant by the cheesecake? They had to have had a few laughs about that. Fuck, he hoped not. Heat climbed his face as Ryan studied the pretty man in front of him. Was Micky gay? Was he jealous of the attention being paid to him by Jansen, or was he simply worried Ryan was a gold digger? Had that been the man’s thought when he called out to Jansen yesterday? I’m only trying to protect you.

Except there was a greater question. How often did this happen? How many times had Jansen done the same with others?

“I always do that kind of thing for him…”

Then, of course, there was the in or out of the closet thing. What if no one really knew Jansen was gay? A part of him wanted to believe it was no one’s business, but a bigger part of him understood the ramifications of what coming out meant. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he finally choked.

“Oh, I think it is. I’ve been with Mr. Branwyth for a long time as his right arm. He does nothing without my assistance, my consent, or my opinion, and he has said nothing about you. Until today. So that tells me you most likely mean nothing to him either, just another meaningless weekend. But then―this.” Once again, he flung his arm toward the table.

“Jansen told me he was going to see me again when he got back.” Why was Ryan arguing with this man? He didn’t have to prove anything to him. But suddenly he wasn’t as confident. His attempted phone call to him earlier had resulted in a hurried hang-up. And the other man’s voice in the background…

“Oh my God, you really are brainless, aren’t you? Bellmar is just one of many places. He is always in Anchora or Codon Harbor or Port Eden. He usually does have business in those cities; he does own a few hotels. But do you think he goes to bed alone? You’re just the new one here in Baytown. I should know. I was new, too, two years ago.”

“You… and Jansen…?” Ryan was going to throw up.

Micky rolled his eyes. “At least I have class. You… you’re…”

A worthless piece of shit? Oh God, he knew that.

“…plain. Dowdy. Not pretty enough to even be in his shadow much less on his arm.” Micky softened his tone. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been harsh. But I really just need for you to understand. He’s not yours to keep. If you leave now, you’re leaving on your terms. No broken heart. Because at the end of the day, that’s what’s coming if you get wrapped up in him. He will hand you your Christian Louboutin’s and hail you a cab. It’s the way he works.”

Christian Louboutin’s? What was that? But damn, the ‘hailing a cab’ thing was familiar.