Page 1 of Sapphire

1

TOMAS

“Fucking bloodsucking scum!” Mateo yells angrily as we’re ushered into the waiting limousine by our bodyguards, who are keeping the crowd of paparazzi from us.

The homophobic slurs spew from their lips as they attempt to get us to react to them, so they can claim the money shot.

Fuck them.

We are so sick of these damn gossip magazines demanding their pound of flesh from us with a constant barrage of speculation guessing if we are simply best friends or lovers.

Our private life is not for sale.

Mateo and I sit in silence as the cameras’ illuminating flashes subside as darkness slips over us the further away we get from that disaster. Turning, I look over at my best friend and can see the tension and stress etched across his face as he stares out the window.

“Tonight was a success,” I say, trying to defuse Mateo’s tension.

“Did you see how many people were there for you tonight, Mateo?” I add, hoping to remind him what tonight was truly about before they ambushed us.

“Everyone loved your work, everyone loved you,” I remind him, trying to pull him back from his angry thoughts. I will not let those assholes ruin his night tonight.

“Of course, they loved you, look at you. What’s not to love?” I chuckle knowing it’s hard for Mateo to pass up a compliment, but there’s only silence.

“You should be so proud of yourself. You will probably sell out of your artwork by tomorrow. I’m so proud of you,” I tell him, letting my hand rest on his thick thigh, hoping to refocus him.

Mateo grunts, his whole body is tense.

He should be jumping around like crazy after tonight’s event. He’s dreamed for as long as I’ve known him about having a gallery exhibition for his artwork and tonight, he did it debuting to critical acclaim. But instead of celebrating, he’s lost in that head of his, worrying about those damn paparazzi and the hateful words that fell from their mouths. I will not let them take away what he has accomplished tonight or the enjoyment of seeing his dreams come to life.

Mateo moves, and I watch as he presses the button for the privacy screen. It creeps up and shuts firmly, separating us from our driver and bodyguard.

“Mateo?”

Mateo takes a couple of deep breaths as tension swirls between us.

“Fuck ‘em,” he curses before launching himself at me, which catches me off guard. He presses me hard back into the soft leather of the limousine’s seat as his thick thighs rest on either side of mine, squeezing and holding me in place. Those large biceps of his flex against the material of his shirt as he holds onto the back of my seat, restraining himself from ripping my clothes off.

If that is what he needs, who am I to deny him? Why should I?

Did you see how hot he looked tonight? Dressed casually in his trusty dirty denim jeans, the ones that mold to his famous ass. Paired with his signature tight T-shirt that clings to every inch of his body. A body that is plastered on underwear billboards all over Spain, the same one that has caused car accidents when drivers get distracted by his enormous bulge that is twenty feet high. The same man the nation swoons over nightly, watching him as the bare-chested, dirty-talking, bad boy onAma a tu vecino(Love Thy Neighbor), the highest-rating soap opera on Spanish TV.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you look tonight, Tomas?” Mateo growls at me.

The sound sends shivers over my body.

“You know what this navy suit does to me, Tomas?” Mateo asks, raising a brow at me as his finger slides down the lapel of my jacket. “Teasing me, tempting me.” He huffs. “Making me want to lose fucking control.” He curses as his hand wraps around my navy tie which hangs loosely around my neck as a sly smile falls across his pink lips. “And yet you still wore it like the little slut you are.”

This is true.

Mateo tightens his grip on my tie which slides toward my throat.

“I had to watch while women flirted with you all night. Do you have any idea how jealous that makes me?”

Yes, I do.I deal with it daily from his fans.

Like tonight, for example, women had their hands all over him as if his body was public property. Like they had the right to him because they feel as if they know him. People can separate Mateo in real life from Mateo on their screens.

I want to scream at them and tell them to keep their hands off because he is mine … but I can’t. We are both firmly in the closet. I’m reduced to the ever-present best friend role. I hate our public masks, but we have no choice, Mateo’s career hinges on his availability to women. His character on the show is Carlos Hernandez, a man known for his legendary bedroom skills, who seduces all the women on the show. No one wants to know the truth about Mateo, that he’s bisexual but these days he leans more towards cock than pussy.

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