Page 22 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
“We’ve got it covered.”
“Ryder had a health scare last year. What about her?”
“Her retirement wasn’t impacted by that. You paid her medical bills.”
“Will I still be a billionaire when I die?”
“God, I hope not.” He grins, winking at me.
I like Ford because he and I have the same complicated relationship with our wealth. We have fun making money, and hell, we like the cachet of being billionaires. It’s cool, and anyone who says different hasn’t ever spent the better part of a summer on a superyacht off the Amalfi Coast.
But we’ve chatted, and neither of us has ever understood why so many rich people are so goddamn evil with their money. The other mega-rich billionaires do know we’re all gonna die, right? And if you’ve made more money than you could possibly spend in a lifetime, then…hell. Why not spread it around? Why not solve a few problems, make life easier?
Anyway, I’m thrilled at the news and smile broadly at my friend. “Good man. Tell you what. I’m going to my favorite coffee place to celebrate. Wanna join me?”
He shakes his head, patting my arm. “I wish I could, but I've got a board meeting over at Wolfe Athletics, and I'm trying to convince the remaining old guard that we can do the same with their retirement.”
“Make sure to tell Rand we’re implementing it as of today, and make sure Joe hears you.”
“That’s cheating, Dr. Laghari.”
I pop my collar. “It’s all about getting the job done.”
He laughs, his bright mood making me forget about the three hundred emails, and we shake on it. I take off the jacket, smashing and folding the easy-to-spot material into the little attached pouch, then skirt past building security and follow Ford out the door. He heads one way, and I head the other, walking to my favorite coffee shop.
I’ve been sneaking out to some of my favorite haunts over the last couple of weeks, and the sky hasn’t fallen yet, so I figure I’m in the clear. Things have been quiet for months now. Changing my routine and increasing security worked, and it’s time to get back to living.
I know I shouldn’t sneak out of the building, but it feels good to go somewhere without checking in. Also, and this is wrong on so many levels, but the idea of Anthony’s taciturn disapproval is mmm. So good.
Ooh. I might even take the subway after work today.
Er, maybe not. I’m feeling brave, not stupid.
Whatever, it’s only a quick coffee run. I’m even a good boy and follow protocol, scanning the area as I put my jacket back on, making sure I’m aware of all the bodies around me. Anthony would be so proud.
I shiver, remembering the dream I had last night, even though Anthony is far too straitlaced to do anything quite so untoward as fuck his client. Doesn’t mean I can’t imagine it.
In every possible configuration.
And maybe I’m completely divorced from reality, but I like to fantasize that he starts off intense and dirty but finishes sweet. Either that or he knows that it takes him exactly fifteen strokes to get off and makes his bottom also wear a condom so that at no point does foreign ejaculate come in contact with his skin.
Aaaanyway, while my crush on Anthony goes unfulfilled, Luca’s men have been most accommodating. I never thought I’d use an escort service, but it’s necessary at this level. His guys are beautiful, kind, and appropriate. And while paid sex lacks a certain warmth, it’s better than the pretty boys with an agenda.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being generous with the people I care about, but when their affection is predicated on access to my money, it removes the romance. And at that point, the paid sex feels less transactional. Still, even the best escort doesn’t eradicate the fervent desire to be made love to by someone who likes me for me.
God, I’m such a sucker for romance.
Not that anyone should feel sorry for me. I didn’t become a billionaire on accident. I come from a very wealthy and politically powerful family in Northern India. People make a lot of the fact that I came to New York when I was fourteen, most assuming I was raised in a slum or something. I was not.
I was put on a private plane and shipped to the most exclusive private school in New York. It would shock absolutely no one to discover I never could hide my queerness. My father didn’t want to explain it to his high-roller buddies, and when you have nine children, it doesn’t matter if one of them becomes a lost artifact.
Ugh, Mads. Nothing worse than a self-pitying billionaire. Get over yourself.
I arrive at Addiction and shake myself back to reality, cursing. Anthony would be so disappointed in me for letting my attention stray for even a moment. I scan the block and the restaurant before walking in, grinning like a kid sneaking into a candy store.
Even better, my favorite booth is free.
“Mads! Fancy seeing you here. Two weeks in a row, whaaat?” Cat, my favorite barista, loves giving me shit. She’s used to us money types, and I love that she treats everyone the same.
