Page 6 of Glory Troll

Max turned around, throwing Nate a thankful smile. “Okay. Do we need to wear a tie?”

Arne gave him a funny look at that. “Yeah, we do.”

What the heck is his problem?

In my room I showered, getting in a quick wanking session, during which I was definitely not thinking about Ollie Bright.Nope. Not at all.

Then I got dressed in the bespoke suits we all had, the dark grey fabric whispered over my legs, making me horny again.

It was too late to get myself off.This will have to wait until after the party.

The lederhosen we had for official occasions in Veitsreuth would have been better suited to the job of keeping me contained. I wrestled my cock inside the trousers with a sigh, thankful for the jacket that somewhat obscured the bulge.

With three minutes left on the clock, I arrived in the restaurant at the same time as Decks and a curly-haired guy in a black suit that hugged his broad shoulders effortlessly.

“Callum, hi!”

He turned, his face splitting into a wide, blinding smile. “Bo, Nate,” he greeted us, offering his hand to shake. “How’s it going?”

Wow, he remembers our names.

And he was unfairly attractive with his soft dark blond curls, green eyes lined with eyeliner, and a snug white T-shirt under his fitted suit jacket.

Decks exchanged a few words with him, and I completely spaced out when I spotted a familiar face across the room.

The world stopped in its tracks. All sound and sensation fading away as he held my gaze on his. Across the entire room, in the middle of the chaos of the party, Oliverheld me.

I allowed myself the tiniest hint of a smile that he—oh Gods have mercy on me—returned with a half smirk that made me fear for these stupidly expensive trousers.

His jaw twitched as if he was trying to suppress a full on dirty grin.Does he know how hard he makes me?

Pursing his lips, he turned around to talk to his boss, who had just approached him, thankfully oblivious to our flirting.

We were still hovering in the entrance, blocking most of the door. Before I could alert Decks and Callum, who apparently had recognised each other as ‘bros’, to step aside, a car pulled up to the building.

A heavily tattooed Kraken got out of it, talking briefly with the driver, before making his way to where we stood.

Gilliatt Clark was a huge thing. His face covered billboards all over the world, and I could see why. I smelled the rough sex oozing from him from ten metres away.

Callum next to me stiffened and turned his back resolutely on the man, who stopped briefly and introduced himself.

Weird.

Clark’s hand was covered in little bumps, suction cups, I realised after a moment. He was in a plain white dress shirt with half the buttons undone, which somehow worked for him.

That man could wear a potato sack and he would look like a million coppers.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he told me in his deep, rumbling voice that sounded like waves rolling in the distance.

“Bo Persson, the pleasure is mine, Mr Clark.”

“Oh please, call me Gill.” He turned to Decks, before excusing himself andweavingfurther into the room, only to stop next to Callum.

“It’s good to see you, Callum.” When he didn’t reply and kept his eyes resolutely averted, Gill nodded curtly and left.

Decks caught my eye briefly as if to say ‘What the fuck?’, but said nothing about it and followed a distracted Callum into the restaurant.

Ollie was nowhere in sight, so I trudged through the crowd to the far end of the long table where the other guys had found seats.

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