Page 3 of My Hunger, Your Soul

“I don't know what happened, but he and Kai are together. Kai’s a new guy. Jules’ step-nephew.”

“He's fucking his nephew?”

“Step-nephew. They’re not blood-related.”

“I don’t give a shit. Wow. Any other dick lovers on the books that I could play with?”

“I see your horndog days are still in full swing,” Dima mumbles.

“Yep. They’ll die along with me.”

“You’re such an idiot. But in answer to your question, we have another guard, Simon.”

“Straight?”

“Who the fuck knows. After all that's happened this year, I wouldn't be surprised if he’s into guys too. I swear there’s something in the water.”

“If it is, you should sell that shit.”

“I’m gonna regret bringing you back, aren’t I? You haven’t changed at all.”

A large, forced grin stretches my face because he’s right. I haven’t changed. I’ve only gotten worse.

2

TYLER

Hard shoulders slam into mine, nearly throwing me off balance as I stand like a deer in headlights on a busy sidewalk in New York, staring up at the impressive building where I will now be working. Lexington Architectural Group. Fuck. I feel nauseous, and I one hundred percent blame Noah and my googly-eyed in love younger brother, Chase. Since returning from France, I can’t get what Noah said about the Kozlov family out of my head. Surely, my new bosses wouldn’t have such people as clients? Noah must’ve been joking, although humor is something that I would never associate with the serious fucker. I’ve no idea what Chase sees in him.

Focus, Tyler.

My mind is all over the place, and I must dig out the confidence I usually display. Leaving California was a huge move for me, but when one of the most prestigious firms offers you a job, you take it. Besides, my life had gotten pretty bleak in California. All I did was work my ass off for little recognition. My dating life was a complete failure, and true friends were hard to come by. I’m hoping this fresh start will change things for me. I love my work. Ever since I was a child, I loved to draw and design, using building blocks to create towers and houses. My brain loves to absorb structures, solve problems with design flaws, and create a vision I can bring to life. It wasn't easy getting here, though. Chase and I didn’t have parents who supported us, hell, I don’t even think they knew who we were when the bottle became their life source. So I had to step up as the slightly older brother and ensure Chase had what he needed. I did my best and I’m so fucking proud of him. It was hard leaving my home in Seattle when I took the job in California. I worried how he would cope, but he exceeded my expectations, and my heart swells at how we turned our shitty childhood around into a success without any help.

After a few large gulps of the cool morning air to calm my galloping pulse, I bite the bullet and head inside the opulent building. Everything will be okay. I’m getting myself worked up over nothing. Rubbing my hands together to warm them up from the winter cold outside, I approach the long reception desk in the middle of the entrance hall where an attractive woman with long blonde hair and green eyes smiles at me, automatically making me feel at ease.

“I’m Tyler Blackford. It’s my first day.”

“Good morning, Mr. Blackford. Mr. Clayson is expecting you. Here is your temporary pass that you will need to wear at all times until we arrange for security to take your picture for the ID. If you take the elevator to the thirtieth floor and sign in with Mr. Clayson’s personal assistant, Samantha, she can show you where you need to go.”

“Great. Thanks,” I say, placing the lanyard over my head and tucking it under my winter coat.

As the elevator moves, my fears over this Kozlov family fade, replaced with anxiousness and a desire to impress my new boss. I don’t want to fuck up this opportunity. Arriving on the thirtieth floor, I move toward the large desk to the left where a lady, who looks middle-aged, is sitting. When her slanted gaze hits me behind her sharp 1920s-style glasses, she is what you’d imagine a stern 19th-century headmistress at a boarding school would look like. Terrifying.

“Yes?” she says with zero patience and one hundred percent annoyance at my presence. She’s gonna be fun.

“I’m Tyler Blackford. It’s my first day.”

“Ah yes. The new Senior Architect. Follow me, and I’ll show you to your office,” she says as she stands from her leather swivel chair, her head barely reaching my shoulders, and marches ahead of me like we are going into battle.

We walk down a spacious, long and pretty quiet corridor with offices all along the left side and vibrant abstract art adorning the right side. At the end of the corridor, we arrive outside an empty and spacious office with my name on the door, and she ushers me inside. I remove my coat, placing it on the chrome coat stand beside the door, as I take in the large space with a wide oak desk to the left of the room. There are floor-to-ceiling windows that look over the city, and a design desk is placed perfectly under the flooding of natural light from the windows. Fuck. I can’t believe this is happening. This is what it feels like to have made it. I can’t help the smile on my face and the inner pride, well, that’s until I turn to see the headmistress scowling at me.

“Mr. Clayson wants to see you when you’re settled, but don’t take too long. His office is on the other side of the corridor, just past my desk. I recommend you don’t keep him waiting.”

Before I can respond, she marches back to where we came from, her steps regimented and determined. I take another moment to scan over the office, resisting the temptation to pinch myself to check that I’m not dreaming. Putting all the emotions aside, I fix my pressed white shirt and navy suit with matching tie, take a few deep breaths, and head down to my boss’s office.

When I arrive, his door is open, so I double-tap on the wood as he calls for me to enter his office. Mr. Clayson has a very regal and demanding presence. If I could guess, I’d say he was in his late fifties. He has a thick mane of dark gray hair, he is dressed in an impeccable dark blue suit, white shirt with matching blue tie. He is tall and graceful. His shrewd blue eyes are intense, always conveying a feeling of assessment and judgment. But he is the best in the business and I admire his visions and creativity that he has developed over the decades of experience.

“Tyler, take a seat,” he says as he greets me with a small smile and a firm shake of the hand, before gesturing to the large leather chair facing his desk. His office is at least twice the size of mine, with floor-to-ceiling windows and epic views over the city. As I take a seat, he moves behind his large desk and takes a moment to assess me.

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