Page 41 of Boy Issues

Chapter Twelve

Donovan gazed around the expansive banquet room of the country club. The décor had always made Donovan feel as if he’d traveled back in time to a film set in the Victorian era, filled with crystal chandeliers, thick Persian carpets and flecked velvet, brocade wallpaper. All that was needed to complete the picture would be lords and ladies waltzing to a quartet. He half expected the visual to play out at any moment. How many charity and other functions had he attended there over the years?

Too many.

Not that he had anything against charities. It was the functions that annoyed the hell out of him. If the gatherings didn’t involve so many pompous idiots congratulating each other on how awesome they were for their enforced corporate responsibility, then maybe he could get behind them.

Donovan snatched another glass of champagne from a server’s tray as he strolled by. He’d had three already, but the buzz wasn’t doing the trick at all. He wasn’t nearly close enough to not caring yet and his ‘date’ still hadn’t arrived. While he didn’t hold out much hope that he could escape her promised attendance, maybe he could at least be spared his brother’s presence.

“Oh, look who’s here?”

Nope.

Donovan chugged his drink then set the empty flute on another server’s tray as he breezed by.

“Hello, Lawrence. I see hotel security isn’t doing their job the way they should.”

Lawrence pursed his lips. “I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere, but I fail to see the what’s so funny.”

“You should be viewing things from my angle.”

Donovan received a frown for his efforts. “Ha ha. Listen, Lance Sherman is supposed to be attending tonight, and father wanted me to make sure you don’t harass him about your lame designs.”

“Oh my God,” Donovan muttered under his breath. He frantically searched the immediate area for trays of filled flutes, but to no avail. He sighed then regarded Lawrence and his self-satisfied smirk. “Father did not tell you to say that. Quit pretending you’re clever.”

“Fuck you,” Lawrence hissed through his teeth then stomped away. He almost mowed over a server with a fresh tray of champagne, but Donovan came to the rescue just in time.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Donovan steadied the server at his elbow while simultaneously grabbing another drink.

“Oh, thank you, sir. That was close.” The young man gazed at him breathlessly.

Donovan held up his glass. “No, thank you.”

The server regarded him with a shy smile, and instead of taking the opportunity to move in for the kill, or at least to make enough of a strike so he could reel his prey in later, Donovan discovered he had no interest whatsoever.

Silver.

Nothing anyone else had to offer could be anywhere near what Silver had—and on so many levels.

“Well, uh, if there’s anything else you need, sir, please let me know. I’m glad to help.”

Donovan resorted to his plastic-person smile, that annoyed the shit out of him now, as he prepared to let the cute blond down.

“Thank you. Um, actually, yes. I’m waiting for my date, Charlotte. If you should happen to notice and attractive, short-haired brunette with that name tag, could you send her my way?”

The blond server’s features fell, and he cleared his throat. “O-oh, sure. I’ll keep an eye out.”

The server scurried away, almost losing his tray of drinks once more when he bumped into another guest. He was back to standing alone by a garish floor urn filled with a ridiculous assortment of silk flowers and enormous, dusty ostrich feathers. Donovan had remained near the entrance, but only enough so he could spot Charlotte when she entered, but not enough where attendees would automatically notice him. Not that most people at the club had any interest in speaking to him, but he didn’t want to offer encouragement—just in case.

Donovan checked his watch. She was almost a half hour late. It didn’t matter to him what time she showed up, except for the fact that he’d be late for his check-in Silver if she was too much longer.

He licked his lips then took another quick sip of champagne. What sort of odd thrill was this at the thought of obeying Silver? Of being a good boy and listening to his Papi? A jolt of arousal hit him, and he almost choked on his drink. The last thing he needed was to be sporting a boner when Charlotte arrived. He felt bad enough as it was to be leading her on.

He compulsively checked his watch again. Maybe she wouldn’t be insulted if he wasn’t there to greet her. After all, wasn’t she the one who was late? But if she complained to anyone and it got back to his father, Donovan didn’t think he could stand it. His ability to brush off his father’s meltdowns was rapidly diminishing. He had the sense that his father felt the same way about him towing the line—hence, the ultimatum.

But he couldn’t push Silver from his mind no matter what he did. Ever since he’d left Silver’s place a few days ago, all he’d done was obsess over what had happened between them. What they’d talked about, what they’d done, what he’d agreed to and what impact it would have on his life.

And my future.

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