Page 121 of Felix

“Excuse me,” a worker says, stopping at the table beside ours where Trevor is seated. “We need a word with the owners real quick.”

“Of course,” Trevor says, standing. He gives his husband—Isaac, as I learned—a quick kiss before walking off with the employee.

“Owners?” Alex asks, popping up in his seat. “What’s that mean?”

Isaac stops staring after Trevor long enough to say, “Because he started Elite 8 Studios.”

Silence falls again, and then Alex screeches, “What? What is even happening right now? Trevor owns the studio? Did you know this?” he asks Niko, who shakes his head. “Who knew this?”

“Shit,” new-guy Sean mutters. “Really makes you wonder what his story is, huh?”

Several heads nod as Alex continues interrogating the group, determined to find out who knew Trevor owned the studio. Jerome and Nathaniel, I note, are conveniently absent, getting drink refills at the bar.

It isn’t long before the lights flicker, and the adult entertainers and crew members present quiet, finding their seats. It’s my first time at such an event, so I’m not sure what to expect. But, as it turns out, it’s like any other awards ceremony, just with more dicks.

Alex wins an award for taking half a forearm up his ass, and although Dixon and Niko don’t win theirs, they were runners up. Our studio also receives a commendation for excellence, a fact that makes Jerome flush with happiness, although I’m sure he’d deny it with every ounce of his being.

By the time the awards ceremony wraps up, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and Emil is hanging off my arm, buzzed and, if I had to guess, a little horny. I give his cheek a kiss as we stand to grab waters from the bar.

“It’s weird,” Emil says.

“What is?”

“This,” he answers, sweeping a hand toward the tables where our coworkers, new and old, are congregated. Some of the attendees have started filtering out, but I’m guessing with this many porn stars inside a hotel, the night is far from over. I know, assuming all goes well, ours is just beginning.

Most of our group is still inside the ballroom. Alex is sitting on Rowan’s lap, his arm around Finn’s shoulders. Cas and Jason are huddled close, looking at something on one of their phones. Mal is whispering into Henrik’s ear, the older man smiling coyly. Marco is hanging off his chair, talking with a few individuals from another studio I don’t know. Jerome and Nathaniel are standing near the stage, chatting with Trevor and Isaac. Dixon is entertaining a very rowdy Niko, the latter practically giving Dixon a lap dance the bigger man is doing his best to look grumpy about. Teddy and Kipp were making out in the corner a minute ago but have since disappeared. And some of the newer talent and other crew are mingling, Noel’s cousin Tanner included.

“So many of the people I started with are gone or are going, like Dixon,” Emil says. “And now, there are all these new faces, you know? Feels like the turn of an era.”

I hum.

“I’ll miss them, but…I like where we’re headed,” he says, looking at me. “I like that I’ll be there with you.”

My chest squeezes tight, and I bring Emil’s hand up to my mouth, kissing the back of it. “I’m glad I get to spend my days with you, too, Specs. I’ll forever be grateful I lost my job at the club and all but fell into your lap.”

He huffs a short breath.

“And whether it was asbestos or fate or pure luck,” I say, “I wouldn’t pick a different path than the one that led me to you.”

“Christian,” he says quietly, his fingers tightening around mine. “Thank you for leaving that letter on my door. For showing me you were someone I could trust. I’m so very glad you’re not an eighty-year-old grandma.”

I shake my head, a grin on my face. “Such a shit.”

“But I’m yours.”

“That you are,” I agree, twisting his hand in mine. “I have a surprise for you. Are you ready to go, or do you want to stick around a bit longer?”

Emil glances back at our tables. There’s a small smile on his face as he sets down his empty water glass. “I’m ready. What’s this surprise?”

“Telling you would ruin it,” I point out, giving Emil a tug. I catch Tanner’s eye, nodding before Emil and I turn the corner out of the ballroom. We stop at the elevators, and Emil raises an eyebrow.

“We’re going up?” he asks.

“Yep.”

Emil tucks his lip between his teeth, a hint of mischievousness in his expression. “You know, I never did like surprises before you.”

“And now?”

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