Page 61 of Thomas
A soft knock drew his attention toward his office door. He hung up the landline phone perched at the edge of his desk. “Yes?”
Thomas peeked his head inside. “Good morning. Am I interrupting?”
“No, hello…” He was dressed in well-tailored slacks, a navy-blue cashmere jumper and a dress shirt layered underneath, its white collar neatly peeking out just above the neckline. His dark hair was cleanly swept back and off his forehead in the way he only wore it when he planned to leave the estate.
He looked well rested and stylish in his new garments. Healthy, tall and not gaunt at all. It was a complete turnaround from his visage a little over a month ago and a marked return to his cool greyhound façade.
“I’m all packed and ready to leave when you are,” Thomas said, stepping up to the opposite side of Cameron’s desk. “Miles is in the foyer—with Lennon. I think this is the first time I’ve seen them together in the same space. They’re very charming.”
“Good,” Cameron said, flexing and cracking his knuckles. “I was hoping to find Lennon before we left. He’s due for a spot of violence.”
Thomas’s eyes widened. “You wouldnothit that elderly man.”
“He has it coming.”
Thomas shook his head in a grin, clearly (and rightfully) disbelieving. Cameron backtracked. “Did you not have bonded servants within your home estate?” he asked. Why was Thomas so tickled by Lennon and Miles?
“Of course not. My elder father would never have allowed any sort of fraternizing among the servants like that—speaking of an elderly man you should hit.”
“Hedefinitelyhas it coming.” Cameron’s nose upturned as he folded his arms. “Your father is a putrefying bag of maggots and he deserves much worse than a beating.”
“Oh, agreed! I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me. Shall we plot his murder together, then?”
Cameron exhaled a weighted sigh. “No, plotting sounds like too much work. I’d rather hire someone to take care of it.”
Thomas placed a palm to his chest. “Ugh, be still my beating heart. It’s as if you’re spouting sonnets!”
They both laughed. Cameron thought it grim of them to be entertained by this, but he was glad for it.
“Rachelle called,” he said, pivoting from the murky subject matter. “She wants to know if we’ll come by at the end of the month and see the boys.” Maybe it was presumptuous to assume that Thomas would still be here with him, and not with Dawn by that time, regardless…
Thomas nodded affably. “I would certainly enjoy that. They were cute.”
Cameron scoffed. “They’re cute for about an hour. Then I get sick of hearing them scream, constantly.”
“Well, my darling, if you’re going to growl at them like a bear, then chase, lift and twirl them above your head, they will scream. You have to do something with them that does not elicit such joyful excitement.”
Cameron’s cheeks warmed from the unexpectedly affectionate moniker. “Like what?” he asked.
“Like…” Thomas flicked his heather eyes to the side, his pale hands on his narrow hips. “Like reading a book.”
“They’ll still scream,” Cameron assured him. “Because that’s what childrendo. It’s their entire reason for existing.”
Thomas’s smile was radiant, like the sun glaring off the snowy hills on a cloudless winter morning. Blinding. “I’ll wager a bet with you that we can get them to sit calmly with us if we read to them.”
“You’re on,” Cameron said as he lifted his chin. “And what’s this bathhouse gift that Rachelle has given us for the end of the month? Why haven’t you mentioned it?”
Thomas’s smile dropped at that, along with his haughty and teasing posture. His expression shifted, somehow. Cameron wasn’t sure. As if Thomas had been caught with something stolen behind his back. “I…” Thomas began, faltering.
“Out with it,” Cameron said playfully, his eyebrow raised in curiosity and his arms still folded over his chest.
“She gave us a gift certificate to attend the local Roman bathhouse—do you know of it?”
“I do. Of course.”
“Okay, so I was… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it, given that bathhouses require things like nudity. The certificate is such that we will be the only patrons in the men’s baths, but still…”
Cameron frowned, confused by his hesitation. “If no other vampires are there, why should I object? I’ll have you know I’m nude all the time—at least once every day, in fact. Sometimes twice.”
