Page 51 of For You, Sir

"Sure." He knotted his fingers in his lap, watching me expectantly as if awaiting a life-or-death verdict.

"I'm not worried about the pictures because they’ll never go to print," I said. "'Director Goes Shopping with Chauffeur'isn't much of a headline. There’s no story there." Einar feared the moviegoing public would condemn him for his long absence, but, if anything, he was slowly being forgotten. The Hollywood machine kept on churning away without him. In truth, people rarely spoke of him at all.

Einar exhaled a shaky laugh. "You're saying I'm not even back page news?"

I steeled my nerve and met his gaze, praying his ego could take it. "In the kindest possible way...yes. The tabloids are looking for scandal and salacious gossip. You're giving them neither."

"If they thought we were a couple, they might." He knitted his brow and looked at me with concern. "It's happened before."

"That P.A. the photographer mentioned?"

He nodded. "An intern."

Jealousy thrashed in my chest like a snared rabbit. I told myself to let it go, but doubt nagged at me. I didn’t want to be a stand-in for an old flame. “I guess… he looked like me?”

Einar shook his head. “There’s no one like you, Jun.”

Good.

“The photo outed him,” Einar said. “He ghosted me right after. I worried if these pics got printed, you would..." His face twisted in something like grief. "You might..."

"Get in trouble with my family? Leave?"

"Something like that," he croaked.

Kneeling on the carpet beside the couch, I put a hand on his knee. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned forward and threw his arms around me, pulling my head against his chest. “Good.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, my heart beating fast. It made me feel guilty to be so treasured, like accepting a gift meant for someone else.

“Anyway, that P.A. sounds highly unprofessional,” I mumbled into his shirt. “I would always keep you apprised of my absences.”

Einar laughed.

Good. Screw that P.A. for hurting Einar’s feelings.

“You’re the best, Jun. You know that?”

I pressed my lips together. It didn’t feel like I deserved that, either, like I’d misled him into thinking I was a better person than I really was.

Einar slid down onto the floor beside me until we both knelt in the cramped space between the couch and the coffee table. He took my chin in his fingers and kissed me, his tongue brushing my lips. I shivered and opened my mouth to receive him.

He kissed me, gripping my hair. His tongue stroked mine in firm demand, and my cock stiffened in response. Einar leaned into me until I toppled over backwards, and my body relaxed in surrender. I loved Einar even when he was a mess, but it was a relief to see him take control again.

I awkwardly straightened my legs, while Einar put his shoulder against the coffee table and shoved it aside. The table legs jerked from their divots in the carpet and tea sloshed over the rim of the cup with a wet, slapping sound.

Oh, no!The table’s wood surface would stain. “I’ll get a towel,” I said, trying to sit up.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. He pushed me down, pinning my shoulders to the carpet. “You’re my man right now. Not my butler.”

Oh!

My man…Myman.

I swished the phrase through my mind, tasting it like a rich wine. Unsure if I deserved the title, but endeavoring to grow into it.

“Yes, Sir,” I said. “I mean Einar!”

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