Page 205 of The Liar's Reckoning

As it speeds upward, I run a hand through my hair and check my phone again. With no new messages, I open my photo app and look at the pictures of me and Graham from Philly. We both look sex drunk, exhausted, and rosy-cheeked. His warm, sweet smile stands in contrast to my placid expression. I might call it serene, but all I remember feeling in the moment was heartsick. I capturedhimwell, though. His innocence and his raw sexiness. The sunshine to my grump. My sweet, naughty puppy.

The elevator stops, the doors slide open, and I sigh. The only way out of this night is through it.

Christian answers the door, and I’m happy to see he’s wearing jeans and a black polo. I pat his pec. “Looking good.”

He flexes for me and laughs, backing away like he’s ticklish. He’s an absolutely different person than the guy I lived with years ago. There’s a lightness to him now, and it makes me realize just how miserable he must have been back then. His blonde hair is already falling out of whatever style he tried to put it in, and the other thing I notice is the leather band around his neck with what I’m guessing is a diamond at the hollow of his throat.

I almost ask if it’s meant to be a collar, but it’s none of my damn business, and I don’t want to know. “I made margaritas,” he says. “They’re awesome.”

“How many have you had?” I ask.

“Two. On accident. You’ll see. Do you follow the Gay Tejano on Instagram?”

“No.”

“He’s this queer dude from Brownsville, Texas. He’s hilarious but he mostly cooks and throws huge parties. This is his recipe. It’s got beer in it, and it’s magical.”

I’m following him through the huge penthouse as he talks, scanning for Gibson so he doesn’t catch me by surprise. He mightbe my boss and the man responsible for ruining my life, but we’ve never actually met. He hired me on Chris’s recommendation alone—well, that and his own guilt. The whole process was done via email with one of his assistants.

I saw him at the wedding I went to with Lilah earlier this summer, and a handful of times over the years on the street, but we’ve never looked each other in the eye and shaken hands. I’m not nervous about it, but I’ll feel less awkward after a beer margarita.

Christian looks me over as I take a long drink from the frosted glass he gives me. The alcohol goes down all too easy, and I already know what he means by two on accident.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” he says as I swallow.

“Yeah. I have some news I wanted to give you in person. Nothing bad or anything, but…” I trail off because Gibson Hayes has entered the room.

I figure he’s Jason Momoa sized. Maybe an inch or two shorter, but otherwise—he’s a wall of a man, and judging by the way his clothes fit him, all muscle. He’s in his forties—according to Chris, but I wouldn’t know otherwise. He’s got no gray anywhere, a full head of thick, dark hair, and one of the more handsome faces on earth.

“Hello,” he says carefully, like he didn’t mean to interrupt.

Chris reaches back and urges him forward with a hand on his arm. Gibson slides his hand casually behind Christian to rest on the countertop, not touching his husband, but looming possessively, nonetheless. It’s too smooth by half.

I decide to be the asshole and hold out my hand. “Silas Manning.”

He flinches, jaw tensing before he gives me a handshake. “It’s good to see you,” he says.

I don’t like this. I need him to be less Superman, more Lex Luthor.

“I would have introduced you at the wedding, but you werepretending you didn’t know me,” Christian says.

“I was working that night.” I’m ready to tell all. Might as well. Keep the margaritas coming.

“Working?”

“As an escort. It was my side-hustle until a few weeks ago. The woman I worked for closed up shop in advance of some new laws. It paid well enough to be able to help out my aunt and mom as much as I could while I could, you know?”

Christian stares at me, baffled. “You know damn well I had no idea about that.”

“Well, it’s one of those plausible deniability things, I guess.” I don’t even know what I’m saying. My eyes keep darting to Gibson who has a thoughtful look on his face.

“How long were you doing it?”

“Years. I did it for years.”

“Withwomen?”

“No, no… that was a special circumstance. I can’t discuss it. Confidentiality. Anyway, I’m moving to Florida in a few weeks.”

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