Broken Rules Page 15

  “They’re prohibitively expensive,” Sanyam said over his shoulder. “It makes no sense financially. The bus is far less costly.”

  Prohibitively expensive, Sterling mouthed to himself, rolling his eyes. Sanyam turned, and Sterling jerked, trying to look innocent.

  “Unless you still have your Lamborghini,” Sanyam said.

  Sterling glared. “Fuck you.”

  Sanyam just shrugged and opened the door for him. “Be good, Polly,” he called, and locked the door.

  “Oh my God, you say goodbye to your stupid cat,” Sterling said, snickering as he jogged down the stairs. “That is the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  THE BUS ride was torture, smelling vaguely of sauerkraut and the seats small and cramped. The one upside was that Sterling was squeezed in against Sanyam, his muscled thigh hard against Sterling’s nervously jiggling one.

  A baby was crying farther up the aisle, and Sterling squeezed his eyes shut as the reality of the situation rushed over him and panic swamped him. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, why had he thought he could, he was going to fuck everything up yet again—he tensed to bolt, and Sanyam pulled Sterling’s head around and kissed him, hard and filthy, until Sterling was gasping against Sanyam’s mouth, hand tangled in the placket of Sanyam’s coat.

  Sanyam slowed and gentled the kiss, his tongue sweeping between Sterling’s lips, tilting his head so that their mouths fit together perfectly.

  When they separated, someone applauded from behind them, but Sterling didn’t even look, still trying to catch his breath.

  Sanyam pressed their foreheads together, smelling warm and sweet and comforting. “Deep breaths, kit,” he murmured. “You’re going to be fine.” His eyes creased. “It’s not like they’re going to ask you to strip for the patrons.”

  “The bartender already doesn’t like me,” Sterling managed. “After everything with Jacks…. And the serving drinks, and balancing all those glasses on a tray and trying to remember everyone’s orders, I’m going to screw up, I’m going to be shit at this, I can’t do anything right, San—”

  “Stop it,” Sanyam ordered, gripping his shoulders and giving him a gentle shake. “You do a lot of things right, kit.”

  “Like what?” Sterling hated himself the second the words were out, but he couldn’t snatch them back.

  Sanyam smiled and thumbed Sterling’s dimple. “You submit so beautifully, for one.”

  “I do not,” Sterling said. “I fight you every step of the way.”

  Sanyam hummed, their lips only a few inches apart. “But when you do surrender, kit, it’s the most glorious thing.” He ran a thumb along Sterling’s cheekbone, and Sterling leaned into it, under his spell.

  “When you mess up, you put things right as best you can,” Sanyam continued. “With your father, with the glass of Cricket’s that you broke—you try to fix things, even when they can’t be put together again the same way as before.”

  Tears prickled Sterling’s eyes, and he blinked them away viciously, concentrating on Sanyam’s voice.

  “You’re gentle with Polly, even when you pretend to hate her,” Sanyam said.

  “I do hate her,” Sterling said.

  Sanyam laughed, breath warm and sweet on Sterling’s face. “You do not. You’re as gone for her as—” He hesitated. “As she is for you,” he finished.

  Sterling narrowed his eyes, but the bus was pulling up to their stop, and Sanyam withdrew gently, his warmth fading from Sterling’s skin as he stood and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

  INSIDE THE club, Sanyam settled a hand on Sterling’s lower back and guided him through the room, stepping around patrons already settled in for a night of entertainment as music played through the speakers.

  “Trinity’s our top performer,” he said into Sterling’s ear. “She’ll share tips if you keep the perverts away from her. Once you’re done talking to Ava and signing the paperwork, I’ll turn you over to Kimi for training.”

  Sterling balked. “You’re not staying with me?”

  “I can’t,” Sanyam said, clearly startled. “I have my own duties, and you’re a server. I work in the back—I can’t train you. I’ll come check on you during breaks, and we can eat together on our lunch, all right?”

  Sterling nodded reluctantly and allowed Sanyam to navigate their way through the crowded space to the back hall. Instead of turning left to get to Sanyam’s room, he turned them right, and they went all the way down to the end, where Sanyam knocked on a door.

  “Come in!” came a brisk voice.

  AVA TERRIFIED him, Sterling decided. She was tiny and fierce and bristly, like a porcupine ready to stab him with her pointy quills if he put a foot wrong.

  He signed what she set in front of him without arguing, still off-balance and unsure of himself.

  When he was done, he set the pen down and folded his hands in his lap as Ava fixed him with a sharp look.

  “You take care of those who need it, you get me? Kimi doesn’t, but Delfia, she’s not tough like our Kimi. You keep an eye on her, and if anyone bothers her in any way, you get them tossed out on their ear. The bouncers are here to help; don’t hesitate to use them.”

  Sterling nodded. Sanyam was quiet beside him, listening but saying nothing.

  Ava leaned forward. “Sanyam’s risking his own job for you, kid. Don’t make either of us regret it.”

  Sterling swallowed resentment at the suggestion in her tone that he would, and simply nodded again.

  “Out,” Ava said and flicked a finger like shaking off water. “Get to work.”

  IN THE hall, Sterling caught Sanyam’s eye. “She’s delightful. I see why you like working for her.”

  Sanyam snorted a laugh. “Come on, smart-mouth, time to turn you over to Kimi.”

  Sterling braced himself as Sanyam ushered him to the bar, where Kimi was busy mixing and pouring drinks. But Kimi’s face lit when she saw Sterling, and she opened the bar hatch to grab him and pull him into a hug.

  “Um,” Sterling said, tentatively patting her back.

  Kimi drew away and grinned up at him. “San told me you were joining us. Welcome to the Honeytrap. You ready to work?”

  “I… guess,” Sterling said. “I have no idea what I’m doing, though.”

  Kimi shrugged that off. “We’ll teach you. I’m putting you with Delfia; you’re going to shadow her for this shift.”

  “Is she okay with that?”

  “Del couldn’t hold a grudge to save her life,” Kimi said. “Plus you tried to protect her last time. She’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Sanyam said. He touched Sterling’s shoulder. “Come find me on your break.”

  DELFIA PROVED true to Kimi’s words, dimpling at Sterling when Kimi called her to the bar.

  “I move fast,” she warned him. “I hope you can keep up. Come on. I’ll give you the tour.” She led him around the room, showing him the doors to private rooms scattered along the walls. “Trinity does private showings between her sets. Most of our strippers do, but she’s our headliner—you’ll get a lot of people asking about her. Part of your job will be to keep the pervs off the stage and their hands to themselves. Generally the dancers will share tips, especially if you’re able to keep the customers happy and the drinks flowing.”

  She walked rapidly, pointing out things he’d need to keep an eye on.

  “Do you guys serve food?” Sterling asked.

  “Finger foods, chips, cheese sticks, and stuff,” Delfia said. “The busboys will clean the tables, but any pitching in is always appreciated.”

  Sterling was getting the message. Pull your weight. He nodded.

  “You’re going to get hit on,” Delfia warned him. “Like, a lot. Laugh it off. Don’t get offended. Try not to let them touch you, but I’ll tell you right now, your ass is going to be pinched so often you’ll probably have permanent bruises.”

  “Awesome,” Sterling mumbled.

  “General rule is, flirting is al
lowed. Touching is not encouraged, but we try to play it down so we don’t lose customers. If someone persists, though, you’re allowed to get Logan to toss them out. When you’re on your own, you’ll have mostly female tables, or openly gay customers. Gotta give the clientele what they like, after all.”

  Sterling nodded again. “I can handle it.”

  “Your… friends,” Delfia said, a shadow crossing her face. “They’re not coming back, are they?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Sterling said. “But I haven’t spoken to Jackson since I punched him, and Braden was always attached to his hip. And they’re not my friends, okay? Not anymore.”

  “Okay,” Delfia said. She patted his arm. “I just had to ask. Come on, I’ll show you the kitchen, and you can meet the chef and busboys.”

  BY THE end of his shift, Sterling’s head spun. Delfia had told him the truth—he’d been flirted with ruthlessly, groped and felt up so often he’d lost count, and his feet hurt so much he was surprised they weren’t swollen to twice their usual size.

  “How do you do it?” he asked her, sprawled in one of the booths as she closed out the register. “I’m dying. Like actually, literally dying.”

  Delfia laughed. “It gets easier. You’re not used to being on your feet for so long, for one thing. And you’ll get better at fending off the horndogs.”

  “I’m not sure I want to,” Sterling muttered, rubbing his ass. He glanced up as Sanyam came into the main room and threaded his way through the tables toward them with a smile on his face.

  “I see you survived,” he said as he stopped in front of Sterling’s limp form.

  “Matter of opinion,” Sterling mumbled. “I think I’m actually undead at this point.” He held up his arms. “Carry me.”

  Sanyam laughed. “Not a chance, you spoiled brat. Get up. Let’s go home. I’ll make you a cup of tea and Polly will cuddle your woes away.”

  Sterling groaned and waved an arm until Sanyam caught it. He pulled him easily to his feet and steadied him as Sterling swayed.

  Delfia snickered. “Put your poor boyfriend to bed,” she told Sanyam. “He worked hard.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Sanyam said.

  “Not his boyfriend,” Sterling agreed, letting his head droop until it was resting on Sanyam’s shoulder.

  “Right,” Delfia said in tones of deep disbelief.

  STERLING FOLLOWED Sanyam out of the club and onto the bus, sagging with exhaustion.

  “Why did I ever think this was a good idea?” he muttered.

  Sanyam laughed quietly. “Because you need a job, and as hard as it is, the club pays well. Besides, this is good for you.”

  “How, exactly?”

  “Builds character,” Sanyam said, smiling at him. “Everyone should work menial labor at some point. My children certainly will.”

  “You have kids?” Sterling asked, stiffening.

  “Hypothetical future children,” Sanyam said, smile widening. “No need to look so panicked, kit, I don’t have plans to settle down anytime soon.”

  Sterling relaxed and shoved a fist against his mouth to stifle the yawn.

  “Put your head on my shoulder,” Sanyam said. He shifted as Sterling obeyed and then wrapped an arm around Sterling’s waist. “We have a thirty-minute ride ahead, you might as well rest.”

  “You need a car,” Sterling slurred, and closed his eyes to the steady thump-thump of Sanyam’s heart.

  SANYAM WOKE him when the bus pulled up to their stop, and Sterling followed him down the aisle and up the stairs of the apartment, muffling another yawn.

  Polly came running, greeting them both with great excitement, and Sterling was too tired to do more than run a hand over her back as she squeaked at him.

  “Go to bed,” Sanyam told him. “Unless you’d like some tea?”

  Sterling shook his head. “Prob’ly fall asleep in it.”

  There was affection in Sanyam’s eyes, and it scared Sterling. Sanyam shouldn’t like him. There was nothing to like, and Sanyam was just going to end up horribly disappointed with him, like everyone else in Sterling’s life.

  But he was too exhausted to address it.

  “Night,” he muttered and headed for his room.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  SANYAM WAS dying. Fox had been with him for two weeks, and so far, it was nothing but unadulterated torture.

  Fox woke up grumpy, and his temperament didn’t improve much until close to noon. Sanyam soon gave up on trying to get him to go running, coming home every morning to find Fox in various stages of undress as he came to and from the shower.

  The worst day was when Fox came out of his bedroom completely naked as Sanyam was walking down the hall. He didn’t notice Sanyam stopping dead, his own eyes still mostly closed against the morning sun as he shambled toward the bathroom.

  His long, long legs and perfect ass nearly glowed, haloed by the sun, the muscles in his back sliding under his skin with every movement, and Sanyam pressed a heel to his groin, fighting the moan.

  He wanted, so much, to take Fox apart again, reduce him to a whimpering mess, make him beg, but it had to be Fox’s idea. No matter what, Sanyam wasn’t going to make sexual advances on a guest in his home.

  So he kept his mouth shut and suffered silently and jerked off a lot in the shower, fast and quiet as his legs trembled and lightning rippled through him.

  At the end of Fox’s second full workweek, Sanyam came out of the back to discover him with his shirt off, a towel draped around his neck and his hair standing up in damp spikes, his eyes molten with fury.

  “What happened?” Sanyam demanded.

  “Patron didn’t like it when I didn’t want her number and refused to give her mine,” Fox said through his teeth. “Let’s go.”

  “She dumped a pitcher of margaritas on his head,” Delfia said in a low tone as Fox dragged a spare Honeytrap T-shirt on.

  “That’s a lot of alcohol to waste,” Sanyam observed.

  “She really wanted his number,” Delfia said. There was sympathy and amusement mingled in her eyes.

  Fox flipped a hand at her and gave Sanyam an impatient jerk of his head. “Can we go?”

  He was tense and irritated all through the bus ride home, responding to Sanyam’s comments with terse monosyllables. Finally Sanyam gave up, and they rode silently the rest of the way.

  Fox stomped up the stairs and waited, bouncing on his toes, for Sanyam to unlock the door.

  “I need to get you a key,” Sanyam said, pushing it open.

  Fox hesitated in the act of brushing past him but said nothing as he stalked into the loft and yanked his clothes off. He left the shirt in a crumpled heap on the floor, kicking his shoes off and leaving them and his pants in a trail that led to his bedroom door.

  Sanyam stifled a sigh. “What happened to picking up after yourself?”

  “Maybe when I smell less like tequila and triple sec,” Fox shot as he stormed back out of the bedroom, still naked, and made for the bathroom.

  Sanyam gritted his teeth and made himself some tea as he listened to Fox banging around in the bathroom.

  “How much harm can he do?” he asked Polly, sitting at his feet.

  She blinked up at him.

  “Yes, you’re right. Best not to ask.” Sanyam carried his tea to the sofa and sat down, stretching his legs out with a relieved sigh.

  When Fox came stomping back through, damp and rumpled but dressed, Sanyam was sipping his tea and reading, Polly on his lap.

  Fox ignored the clothes on the floor to root in the refrigerator, coming up with a piece of cheese and a beer.

  Sanyam tsked, turning the page. “That’s not a meal.”

  “Bite me,” Fox snapped. He flopped into a chair at the table and glared at his beer, tapping the tabletop with a fingernail.

  “Don’t forget to pick up your clothes,” Sanyam said mildly.

  Fox blew an irritated breath and said nothing.

  Silence fell as Fox drank his beer
and sulked, and Sanyam pretended to read, focused on Fox’s brooding figure.

  “I have to go shopping tomorrow,” he said after a minute. “Would you like to go with me, so I can get food I know you’ll eat?”

  Fox shrugged. “Whatever.” He pushed himself to his feet, leaving the beer bottle on the table. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Fox,” Sanyam said.

  Fox stopped at the entrance to the hall. “What.”

  “Pick up your mess,” Sanyam said.

  There was a tense moment as Fox stared at him. Sanyam’s pulse sped up as he turned another page, not even seeing the words.

  “No.”

  Sanyam nearly dropped his book, turning the fumble into setting it down on the coffee table. Fox’s eyes were still hot with anger when he looked up, but there was something else there too—a hunger, a need that Sanyam knew he couldn’t make himself express.

  He set Polly on the sofa beside him and stood. He crossed the living room and moved right into Fox’s space.

  Fox swallowed hard and licked his lips but didn’t budge.

  “Pick up your mess,” Sanyam repeated.

  “I won’t,” Fox said flatly, but his eyes begged for Sanyam to keep pushing.

  Sanyam leaned in close. “If you do not, I will… punish you.”

  Fox brought his chin up. “I’d like to see you try.”

  Sanyam caught Fox’s shoulders and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there. “You infuriating brat,” he growled, and Fox surged up and kissed him before he could say anything else.

  Fox tasted like beer and Manchego, salt and cream and the tang of hops, pressing in on a shaky moan.

  Sanyam pushed back, cupping Fox’s groin in one hand and thumbing his rapidly hardening shaft through his soft sweats.

  “Safeword,” he demanded when he broke away.