Men of London 03 - Suit Yourself (18 page)

He smiled as Taylor sauntered over to him.
The man was definitely gorgeous, and Oliver felt a twinge of
jealousy that he and Leslie were such good friends.

“Hey, Oliver, how goes it?” Taylor pulled out
a chair with a grin and sat down. “I thought I’d come see how you
were doing, see where that friend of mine is. He owes me a
drink.”

“He was supposed to be back a while ago. He’s
been delayed. Probably Laverne got hold of him.”

Taylor chuckled. “Leslie can be a will o’ the
wisp. He’s a real social darling. Everyone wants a piece of
him.”

Oliver scowled.

Taylor flapped a hand as he laughed. “Come
on, you know the guy. He loves to talk.” He grew more serious and
leaned forward. “I’ve never seen him this way about anyone before,
though. You and he are really getting along, huh?” Dark brown eyes
gazed quizzically at Oliver.

“I guess. He’s definitely unique.”

“Oh that he is. Leslie is one of those who
fall for someone, heart and soul.” Taylor’s eyes met his. “I hope
you realise what a special guy he is. I’m pretty protective over
him. I wouldn’t want him getting hurt.”

Oliver nodded. His hand went to his hair in
an automatic gesture as he checked it covered his scar for about
the tenth time that night.

Have I just been
warned?

“Yes,” he muttered quietly. “He is. Special I
mean.”

A shadow loomed over Taylor and a large hand
clasped his shoulder. Draven Samuels stood behind his fiancé, a
wide grin on his face.

“I heard that, Tay. Are you playing best
friend ‘don’t hurt my buddy or I’ll hurt you?’ Way to make Oliver
feel better.” He sat down next to Taylor and covered his hand with
his.

Taylor smirked. “Was it working? Was I badass
enough without overdoing it?” He winked at Oliver who couldn’t help
smiling at the adoring look the two men gave each other.

Draven cocked his head to one side. “I have
to say there’s a much better badass side to you, one that we can
try out when we get home. I prefer that bad boy.” His hand reached
out and caressed Taylor’s cheek.

Taylor leaned into his hand. “I look forward
to that later then.” His eyes sparkled as he looked back at Oliver
who was feeling both a little uncomfortable and turned on at the
wanton expression of want in both their eyes. “I think we’re making
Oliver a bit nervous. Maybe…”

A slim hand reached out and twisted Taylor’s
ear. He yowled as he looked up at a glaring Leslie. A surge of
relief flooded Oliver’s chest as he observed his lover.

“Tay, are you teasing Oliver? I have two
words for you. Dressing. Room.” His blue eyes flashed a warning and
Taylor blanched. Draven looked curious.

“Oh yeah, so not teasing.” Taylor stammered,
casting a quick look at Draven. “Just getting to know the guy.
Look, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Draven and I have a
dance he promised me. See you later.” He pulled Draven away, who
looked confused and was mouthing the words, “Dressing room?”

Oliver broke out into laughter as Leslie sat
down beside him, looking smug.

“I can’t believe you threatened your best
friend with that one. I mean any guy in a dressing room is going to
flirt with the models, right? Especially when they look like Reuben
Tanner.” Leslie had told Oliver about Taylor’s recent flirtations
when Leslie had dressing room duty from hell.

“He had it coming.” Leslie smirked. “I knew I
could play that card sometime. And it worked.”

Oliver leaned forward and kissed Leslie
gently. “You’re awesome. And, have I told you yet how bloody
beautiful you are tonight? The most incredible man here.” His kiss
grew deeper and he pressed his tongue against Leslie’s mouth,
loving the sound his lover made when he kissed back. For a moment,
the din, hustle and bustle of the room went away and there were
only soft lips, hot mouths and seeking tongues. When they pulled
apart, Oliver was gratified to see Leslie looked a little
dazed.

“God, you kissed me, right here in front of
everyone.”

Oliver shrugged, feeling like he’d just run a
mile and won a medal. “I did. I wanted to show everyone you belong
to me. That I’m yours.”

“Oh.” Leslie’s happy whisper went straight to
Oliver’s groin, which was already hot and bothered. “That’s…so…”
Oliver hadn’t seen a Leslie lost for words before. Apparently a PDA
did that to him.

“Anyway, where did you get to? I missed
you.”

Leslie’s brow furrowed and his eyes darkened.
“I met someone I know and we got talking, and then time slipped
away from me.” He reached over and lightly ran his fingers down
Oliver’s shirted arm. “And now I need to go and make sure all the
prizes are ready to be awarded for the raffle. Laverne’s a bit
nervous about going up on the catwalk to announce the winners; she
doesn’t really like going in public like that. So I said I’d check
they were all ready, so she doesn’t make a fool of herself up
there.”

“Oh. Okay. But hurry back.” Oliver reached
over and framed Leslie’s face with his hands. “When this evening is
all over I’m taking you home and I am going to make love to you
until you forget your name. I’m so glad you invited me here
tonight. I’ve enjoyed it.”

He kissed him again and then looked into
Leslie’s wide blue eyes. The emotions he saw there both scared and
elated him.

“You’d better get off before your boss comes
looking for you.”

Leslie nodded and stood up. His face shone
with mischief. “Now I have a boner, you dickhead. You’d better make
sure this gets put to good use when we get home. Maybe this time
I’ll be the one on top.”

With a grin and a wave, he disappeared into
the throng. Oliver watched him go, his body warm and content.
Tonight he’d give Leslie whatever he wanted.

“Well, look at you getting it on in public. I
thought it was you.” The sneering voice catapulted Oliver back into
a dark place. He blinked as he looked up into the smarmy face of
Gregori Golovin. He was flanked by the twins, Pierce and Payton,
who, as usual, were simpering behind him.

“Greg. And acolytes.” There had been a time
when Greg’s long platinum hair and brilliant green eyes, his lithe,
limber body and tanned skin had been Oliver’s everything. Now, his
mind conjured only dark blue eyes and black hair when he thought of
someone he cared about. “I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see any of
you. Now could you just turn around and leave?”

Gregori snorted and hooked a chair over with
his foot, then sat down next to Oliver. “Go fetch me a drink,” he
commanded to Pierce. “Payton, can you grab me some food before that
greedy bunch of vultures eat it all? I want to talk to my boy Nicky
on my own.” The twins nodded and melted into the crowd behind
them.

“I’m not Nicky anymore, Greg,” Oliver said
quietly. “I’m just plain Oliver.”

“Oh, I know that,” Gregori replied with a
smirk. “You were washed up the minute you trashed your face. Booze
and drugs will do that to you.” He leaned closer and peered at
Oliver’s face. “Wow, they did a really bad job of patching you up.
I can still those scars.” He reached out a hand to move Oliver’s
hair from his face and Oliver grabbed it tightly.

“You don’t get to touch me,” he snarled, his
fingers gripping Gregori’s wrist. “You don’t have that right
anymore.”

“Oh but twinky boy does?” Gregori grinned
nastily. “You seem to be slumming it now, Nicky. I guess that’s all
you’re good for with a face like that.”

Heat rushed through Oliver and he wanted to
punch the smug face in front of him for those comments. He held
back. This was a public place and the last thing he wanted was a
lot of attention. Gregori no doubt knew that from the glint in his
eyes that told him to bring it on.

“Fuck off,” Oliver growled. “I’m over you, so
piss off. Go find your toy boys to drill you a new one.”

Gregori pulled out his phone. “I was watching
you from the minute you walked in and I recognised you,” he said
dangerously. “So I had my boys follow that twink around and guess
what they found? He doesn’t just belong to you, Nicky. He has
someone else on the side.” He held up his phone and waggled it in
front of Oliver, whose hands trembled under the table and breath
seemed to be getting shorter. He didn’t believe Gregori; it was all
just a plot to rile him. So when Gregori laid his phone down on the
table and there, in full HD colour, was the picture of Leslie
kissing another man, a well built, hunky fellow, Oliver felt faint.
The date stamp was clearly marked tonight, at ten-thirty pm when
Leslie had been gone.

Gregori was watching him closely. “I wasn’t
lying, was I? He’s a bit of a slag, leaving you here like that and
then getting off with another guy.”

Oliver leaned forward and poked Gregori hard
in the chest. “Don’t you call him that, you bastard. Leslie is no
slag.”

He had no doubt there had to be a reason for
that picture. Perhaps it had been something innocent, something
misconstrued. He’d have to ask him. Leslie wasn’t the sort to do
that to a man. That much Oliver knew.

Gregori shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well,
pardon me. I suppose denial comes easy in your situation. Denial
that you don’t look like a monster. Denial that your
man
”—he spat the words out—“isn’t off fucking someone
else. Denial that you aren’t a has-been porn star and drug addict
who needed coke to get it up on set and make it through the
day.”

Oliver tried not to let the words get to him
but he was shaking. He remembered the pain of the accident, the
surgery, the skin grafts, the pain he’d faced with only Katie by
his side. He remembered too well Gregori’s sneering rejection. The
withdrawal process had been painful and difficult. Although he
hadn’t been on the coke for too long, his addiction was bad enough
that he’d suffered plenty through giving it up.

“So,” Gregori drawled. “I just wanted to
share that with you and tell you that honestly, you need to let it
go. This guy isn’t going to want you,
Nicky
Starr
. He already has someone else anyway, someone who
probably hasn’t had half of London up his arse. You fucked up our
relationship with your high morals and you’ll do the same to this
one sooner or later. You always do.” He stood up. Oliver saw Pierce
and Payton approaching the table with drink and food and Gregori
waved them over.

“Guys, leave that here with our friend Nicky.
He looks like he could use a drink. Probably the first time he’s
been out in public since his face was torn off. Disgusting,
subjecting everyone else to it, too.”

The twins laughed.

Even though Oliver knew no one could see the
jagged scar, his hand still instinctively went to his face.

“Yeah, we saw ‘his’ guy over at the bar. He’s
luscious.” One of the twins winked suggestively. Oliver had no idea
which one it was; he’d never been able to tell them apart. “I
wouldn’t mind putting this between that tight arse and giving him
one.” The man grabbed his crotch and rocked his hips crudely.

Gregori laughed harshly. “I’d fuck him
myself. Love to get inside that hot hole.”

Oliver stood up, fists clenched. “I’m going
to fucking kill you, Greg.” He moved toward him and the men formed
a flank together like a wall of Armani suits and gold jewellery. He
didn’t care if they beat him up. No one insulted Leslie like
that.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Gregori said
dangerously. “I’ve got someone at the bar keeping an eye on your
little bit of fluff. You start something, he’ll get hurt.”

Oliver stared at the three men helplessly and
unclenched his fists.

Gregori gave an unpleasant smile. “That’s
better.” He flicked an imaginary piece of something off Oliver’s
collar, “I’d suggest you quit while you still can. Go back to your
miserable, solitary life and be the man you were born to be.
Nothing.”

Oliver’s despair flooded him but he tried not
to let it show. He didn’t think he was succeeding from the
victorious grin on Gregori’s face. Old insecurities and fears
invaded his body and his mind like soldier ants on their way to a
tasty feast. Gregori looked as if he’d just won the lottery, the
smirk on his face growing wider with every beat of Oliver’s bruised
heart.

“So, why not sit down and wait for your
boyfriend? Maybe you can ask him about the other guy when he comes
back. The two of you can have a cosy little tête-à- tête and he can
find out exactly how bloody pathetic you really are. Come on, you
two.”

Gregori moved off, his two shadows close
behind him. Oliver stood there for a while, swaying on his feet,
wanting to be sick. He had no idea how much time had passed until
he felt a warm hand on his arm as an anxious familiar voice
murmured in his ear.

“Are you all right, Oliver? You look as if
you’re going to faint.” Leslie’s strong hands helped him back to
the table and he sat down, closing his eyes, wishing he was
anywhere else but here. Leslie fussed around him as he handed him a
glass of water.

“It’s probably nerves,” Leslie soothed. “All
this activity and people after being a hermit is bound to give
anyone a bit of anxiety. Here, drink this.”

Oliver obediently drank the water, waiting
for his racing heart to calm down. Leslie’s blue eyes looked at him
with concern.

“Feeling better? Sorry, I tried to get as
back as soon as I could…”

The words left Oliver’s mouth like vomit.
“Someone said they saw you kissing another guy. Is this true?”

Leslie’s face paled. “Oh my God, is that what
got you all aflutter? It was just Frankie—he was drunk. I gave him
a good slap, told him I was out of bounds. He apologised but not
before he tried to kiss me. God, Oliver, I’m so sorry. It really
didn’t mean anything. Like I said, he’d had too much to drink and
was a feeling a bit amorous.” He sat down beside Oliver, placing a
tentative hand on his.