The Angel
Page 68
Michael’s heart raced. Where the hell had Griffin gone?
“I can’t. I have to find—”
“You can. You should.” The man smiled. “You will.”
“He won’t.”
Michael heaved a sigh of relief as Griffin appeared at his shoulder.
The young man’s eyes lit up in recognition.
“Griffin Fiske…what the hell are you doing here?” the blond man said, giving Griffin a wide and obviously fake smile. “Shouldn’t you be sucking Kingsley Edge’s cock?”
“I get Friday nights off,” Griffin said.
“I get every night off. No, wait. I get off every night. That was it. So you’re sort of interrupting here, Griff. I was making a new friend.”
“Your new friend is my old friend, Jackal.” Griffin edged in closer to Michael.
“Can’t we all be friends?”
Griffin smiled. “No. We’re leaving.”
“You’re leaving. He’s staying. He’s my date.” Jackal grinned and reached out as if to pat Michael’s face. Griffin’s hand snaked out and grasped Jackal’s wrist with such a display of lightning speed that Michael flinched.
“Don’t touch my property, Jack. Not with any part of you that you wanna keep.”
Michael could only stare at Jackal’s fingers hanging impotently in the air inches from his face, Griffin’s hand clasped around his wrist in a viselike grip. Even in the low light of the club Michael could discern the barely concealed pain on Jackal’s face and the color draining from his hand.
Jackal’s jaw clenched.
“Sorry, Griff. Didn’t know he was yours.”
Griffin raised his chin and stared Jackal down. “Well, he is.”
“Honest mistake.”
Nodding, Griffin let Jackal’s hand go. “Of course. Could happen to anyone. Ready, Mick?”
Michael looked at Griffin. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed half the club now watching them. With such attention, Michael knew he should have felt humiliated. But to be publicly called the property of Griffin Fiske, even as a lie, made his heart, and another part of him, swell with pride.
“Yes, sir.”
At the “sir,” Griffin’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly recovered. With an air of casual dominance, Griffin put his hand on Michael’s lower back and steered him away from Jackal toward the back exit.
“Who is that guy?” Michael whispered when they got to the exit.
“Jack Albrect.”
“Ex-friend?”
Griffin didn’t meet his eyes as he opened the back door. “Ex-dealer. Not a fan of me now that I’m not his best customer anymore.”
“Oh.” Michael couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. They took the stairs to the roof, and Michael already missed Griffin’s hand on his lower back. “Well, thanks for getting me away from him. You know…pretending we were together. I mean, we’re together but we’re not…I’m not…”
Griffin turned around and looked at him. He started to say something but the helicopter blades drowned out all sound. In silence, they flew all the way back to Griffin’s estate. Now night, Michael couldn’t see much below them so he merely stared into the darkness and remembered the burning look of fury in Griffin’s eyes when Jackal had tried to touch him and the incredibly comforting sensation of Griffin’s fingers on his back guiding him through the crowd. Don’t touch my property, Jack.... Even Nora’s books and the erotic orders she whispered in his ears at night hadn’t aroused him as much as those five words of Griffin’s had. My property.
If only.
In silence they walked back into the house. Michael wanted to say something more to Griffin but once more couldn’t find the words. Or maybe he had the words but didn’t have the balls to say them.
At the top of the steps they started to go their separate ways. But Griffin stopped him with a word.
“Just a sec, Mick. I forgot I had something for you. It’s in my room.”
“Really? What is it?” Michael nervously followed Griffin into his massive bedroom. Michael had only peeked his head in the room once or twice but never actually crossed the threshold. It seemed like hallowed ground to him. He didn’t feel quite worthy to be in the presence of the bed Griffin slept in, the sheets he f**ked on.
“What is it?” Griffin repeated. “Nothing. Just a line to get you in my room.”
Michael froze. Griffin laughed and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Don’t look so terrified. Everybody who comes into my bedroom leaves it smiling. Except for Alfred, but that’s only because he hates being the bottom.”
Michael burst into laughter as they entered Griffin’s room.
“Nora says it’s not for everybody,” Michael said as Griffin started digging through drawers.
“Next butler I hire, I’ll make sure to ask his positions preferences first. You know, it’s a good thing I’ll never have to get a real job. I’m a sexual-harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Nora said she put ‘being sexually harassed’ in her old intern’s job description.”
“She’s a smart lady. Could have been a lawyer but wasn’t enough of a sadist.”
Griffin pulled a bag out from under his bed and handed it to Michael.
Michael stared at it a moment before opening the bag. From it he pulled out something square and wrapped in linen. He pulled off the linen wrap and found a large black book covered in the softest, supplest leather he’d ever touched.
“I can’t. I have to find—”
“You can. You should.” The man smiled. “You will.”
“He won’t.”
Michael heaved a sigh of relief as Griffin appeared at his shoulder.
The young man’s eyes lit up in recognition.
“Griffin Fiske…what the hell are you doing here?” the blond man said, giving Griffin a wide and obviously fake smile. “Shouldn’t you be sucking Kingsley Edge’s cock?”
“I get Friday nights off,” Griffin said.
“I get every night off. No, wait. I get off every night. That was it. So you’re sort of interrupting here, Griff. I was making a new friend.”
“Your new friend is my old friend, Jackal.” Griffin edged in closer to Michael.
“Can’t we all be friends?”
Griffin smiled. “No. We’re leaving.”
“You’re leaving. He’s staying. He’s my date.” Jackal grinned and reached out as if to pat Michael’s face. Griffin’s hand snaked out and grasped Jackal’s wrist with such a display of lightning speed that Michael flinched.
“Don’t touch my property, Jack. Not with any part of you that you wanna keep.”
Michael could only stare at Jackal’s fingers hanging impotently in the air inches from his face, Griffin’s hand clasped around his wrist in a viselike grip. Even in the low light of the club Michael could discern the barely concealed pain on Jackal’s face and the color draining from his hand.
Jackal’s jaw clenched.
“Sorry, Griff. Didn’t know he was yours.”
Griffin raised his chin and stared Jackal down. “Well, he is.”
“Honest mistake.”
Nodding, Griffin let Jackal’s hand go. “Of course. Could happen to anyone. Ready, Mick?”
Michael looked at Griffin. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed half the club now watching them. With such attention, Michael knew he should have felt humiliated. But to be publicly called the property of Griffin Fiske, even as a lie, made his heart, and another part of him, swell with pride.
“Yes, sir.”
At the “sir,” Griffin’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly recovered. With an air of casual dominance, Griffin put his hand on Michael’s lower back and steered him away from Jackal toward the back exit.
“Who is that guy?” Michael whispered when they got to the exit.
“Jack Albrect.”
“Ex-friend?”
Griffin didn’t meet his eyes as he opened the back door. “Ex-dealer. Not a fan of me now that I’m not his best customer anymore.”
“Oh.” Michael couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. They took the stairs to the roof, and Michael already missed Griffin’s hand on his lower back. “Well, thanks for getting me away from him. You know…pretending we were together. I mean, we’re together but we’re not…I’m not…”
Griffin turned around and looked at him. He started to say something but the helicopter blades drowned out all sound. In silence, they flew all the way back to Griffin’s estate. Now night, Michael couldn’t see much below them so he merely stared into the darkness and remembered the burning look of fury in Griffin’s eyes when Jackal had tried to touch him and the incredibly comforting sensation of Griffin’s fingers on his back guiding him through the crowd. Don’t touch my property, Jack.... Even Nora’s books and the erotic orders she whispered in his ears at night hadn’t aroused him as much as those five words of Griffin’s had. My property.
If only.
In silence they walked back into the house. Michael wanted to say something more to Griffin but once more couldn’t find the words. Or maybe he had the words but didn’t have the balls to say them.
At the top of the steps they started to go their separate ways. But Griffin stopped him with a word.
“Just a sec, Mick. I forgot I had something for you. It’s in my room.”
“Really? What is it?” Michael nervously followed Griffin into his massive bedroom. Michael had only peeked his head in the room once or twice but never actually crossed the threshold. It seemed like hallowed ground to him. He didn’t feel quite worthy to be in the presence of the bed Griffin slept in, the sheets he f**ked on.
“What is it?” Griffin repeated. “Nothing. Just a line to get you in my room.”
Michael froze. Griffin laughed and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Don’t look so terrified. Everybody who comes into my bedroom leaves it smiling. Except for Alfred, but that’s only because he hates being the bottom.”
Michael burst into laughter as they entered Griffin’s room.
“Nora says it’s not for everybody,” Michael said as Griffin started digging through drawers.
“Next butler I hire, I’ll make sure to ask his positions preferences first. You know, it’s a good thing I’ll never have to get a real job. I’m a sexual-harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Nora said she put ‘being sexually harassed’ in her old intern’s job description.”
“She’s a smart lady. Could have been a lawyer but wasn’t enough of a sadist.”
Griffin pulled a bag out from under his bed and handed it to Michael.
Michael stared at it a moment before opening the bag. From it he pulled out something square and wrapped in linen. He pulled off the linen wrap and found a large black book covered in the softest, supplest leather he’d ever touched.
