“And I’ll very much look forward to hearing from you,” said Kieran, grinning, before collecting his jacket and satchel from the chair and heading for the door.
Kennedy put his hands behind his head and stared at the long, lean legs of the confident figure striding out of the cafe. On the plus side, this guy was definitely attractive, with his shaggy brown mop, sad eyes and beautiful full lips. And as Kennedy had stated in his very specific demands, he expected companionship, but not sex. Besides, if he did pick straight Kieran, he could legitimately slip away for some anonymous sex on the gay cruise without upsetting anyone, something generally acknowledged as being as available as the twenty-four-hour sushi bar—not that Kennedy had ever partaken of either.
Moreover, for the three days in Singapore, his father might actually be able to tolerate this one. He would certainly enjoy being challenged on his political ideology, something Kennedy had never found of any interest. And the gay cruise? Kieran would have to fend for himself, but he didn’t seem the faint-of-heart type, more like the sort of man who could brave any storm—metaphorically speaking. And as he’d said himself, he really needed the job.
Stop, Kennedy told himself, shaking his head. What the hell am I thinking?
Chapter Four
Kieran
On Friday, opening the front door to his home—his temporary home—Kieran looked around the shoebox one-bedroom apartment. Out of respect for Jules and Terry, his sister and her boyfriend, he always rose early from his bed on the two-seater sofa, tidied away his bed covers, put fresh coffee on, showered and left the apartment before either of them had awoken. Usually he would breakfast at the corner cafe and return around ten, once they had both left for work. As much as he could, he minimised the evidence of him being there, of him relying on their goodwill.
Having previously resided with his ex-girlfriend Jennifer, his life right now felt more like a scraped existence, lonely, desperate, barely surviving. Although he knew his sister wouldn’t throw him out, he wanted to make sure neither of them had any reason to even consider the idea. Signs of their morning ritual remained—cereal bowls and mugs left unwashed on the sideboard, the coffee pot almost empty, clothes dotted around the room. Jules knew he would clear up after them, would even make their bed without her asking, basically because not only did he dislike any kind of mess, but because he felt indebted to them both.
After putting his laptop on the table, he hung his bag on a coat hook before setting about tidying up. With only one bedroom, the apartment didn’t take long to clean. After he had finished, he put a fresh load of laundry in the washing machine, which included some of his own clothes. A drawback to staying with them and having no bedroom of his own was that he had nowhere to store his clothes. Jules had emptied out one of the drawers in the living room cabinet, beneath the television. She had also allowed him to hang his interview suit and a couple of pairs of trousers in their small wardrobe.
However unlikely, he desperately needed this one-off job with Kennedy Grey, which would mean he could give them back their apartment for the whole of September. And if he could land a permanent job—the job centre had gone quiet again—he might be able to use part of the money to put a deposit down on an apartment of his own. One thing was for sure—he couldn’t keep living like this. Unemployment benefits barely covered the cost of bills and food. What he needed right now was a healthy dose of luck.
Sitting at the small table, he opened a browser on his laptop and Googled Kennedy Grey. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, but Kennedy had a Wikipedia page dedicated to him—not with a photo or much information, barely two paragraphs, but still. From the small amount online, Kieran read that Kennedy had salvaged the company originally run by his uncle—his mother’s brother—Ashwood Havens. Clinging to old VHS technology and unable or unwilling to embrace the digital age, Havens had pretty much run the company into the ground before Grey came on board and started turning things around. Success began shortly afterwards. Grey Havens had introduced the first fully-integrated digital surveillance system subsequently adopted by major hotel chains around the world. Never one to rest on his laurels, Kennedy had made sure they refined and upgraded their offerings, as well as expanding into other commercial areas—shopping malls, airports, exhibition halls. On a number of other searches Kieran found photographs of Kennedy, usually speaking at conferences or in business conversations, rarely at anything social. One photograph at a social event had him standing beside another man—dark-haired, handsome, but unsmiling, both of them looking dapper.
Before his next search, he took a few deep breaths. Even with nobody else in the apartment, he still looked around before typing the words ‘gay sex’ then hitting the search button. Maybe he should not have been surprised by the number of sites that popped up, but some of the descriptions had him mystified. What the heck were BBC, slurping, rimming and edging? Selecting one site, he searched a couple of video clips until he found two reasonably good-looking guys around his age. Clicking on the clip, he waited to see how much he could stand to watch. At first they just spoke to the camera. After a while, however, they began to make out. Two men kissing didn’t faze Kieran at all. Having said that, neither did the sight push any buttons. But when they started to get naked, and one went down on the other, going to town with a blow job, he noticed his heart began to beat faster. As though someone had flicked a switch inside him, his breath quickened and his cock became swollen. Shit, he thought, what does that mean? As he was about to slam the lid of the laptop closed, a pop-up message appeared on his screen telling him his friend Coleridge was online. Fumbling the touchpad, as though he had just been caught doing something illicit, he shut the browsers down and cleared the history.
Coleridge—Cole—had taken a couple of the classes Kieran attended for his master’s. More importantly, Cole was gay. After taking a few steadying breaths, he clicked onto the pop-up and asked if they could talk. Within seconds Cole’s grinning face popped into view.
“K, my man. How’s it hanging?”
“Not bad. I’ll be pleased to get this assignment out the way. Listen, do you mind if I run something by you?”
“As long it’s got nothing to do with Russian bloody communism. I can’t get my head around it.”
“No, this is—uh—a gay thing.”
“Gay thing, eh? Then you’ve arrived at your destination, buddy. Fire away.”
Kieran told the story about meeting Kennedy in the coffee shop, about the man searching for a companion for his holiday. While chatting, he emailed Cole a copy of the holiday requirements attachment Kennedy had provided, to get his friend’s thoughts. Somewhat out of character, Cole listened without once interrupting.
“So what do you think?”
“What do I think? I think you’re pig-shit crazy to even be considering the idea. You know what my people call this kind of thing?”
“No.”
“Gay-for-pay. Straight guys who do all kinds of things with gay guys for money. Jerk off on camera, play around with sex toys—some even have sex with men. They either get addicted to the money, or the drugs the money buys. And one cute tattoo turns into a whole body covered in ink, because they can’t bear to look at themselves. Most of them eventually fuck up their lives.”
“This is nothing like that.”
“This is exactly like that. Shit, man, how does Jennifer feel about this?”
“Jennifer and I are done. Or at least having a cooling-off period. I’m staying with my sister right now.”
“She kicked you out?”
“No, she—well, yeah.”
“She kicked you out, man? After you’d lost your job? After you’d spent those weekends decorating her place from top to bottom? She fucking kicked you out?”
“She wanted more, Cole. And I wasn’t ready to—”
“Of course you weren’t ready! What a prize fucking bitch! Good riddance. Who in their right mind would want to dive into that kind of commitment without a stable job with prospects in the
ir pocket? Or at least with your master’s under your belt… Woah! Did you read this bit on the travel requirements page?”
“Which bit?”
“Page five. There’s a whole list of stuff you need for the holiday.”
Page five had a long inventory of all the items of clothing Kieran would need to bring, including a tuxedo. His heart sank. All he had was the one work suit which—if he was going to be perfectly honest—had seen better days. Kennedy wouldn’t even need to tell him he hadn’t got the job, because he couldn’t afford to take it anyway.
“Ah well. That solves that little quandary.”
“Trust me, K, you’re much better off.”
Just then his phone rang with an unknown number.
“Another call coming through. Talk to you later, Cole. Thanks for the advice.”
“Any time,” said Cole, before dropping the link.
“Hello?”
“Can I speak to Kieran West?”
Kieran recognised the voice instantly.
Kennedy Grey.
Chapter Five
Kennedy
Nothing seemed to be going right that day.
In Kennedy’s absence, COO Sloan Williamson had rescheduled an important meeting without consulting him, one that now sat slap bang in the middle of his planned holiday. On the other hand, Sloan had been the one to orchestrate the whole merger with Cold Steel Security, something that made total sense on paper. Cold Steel remained one of the top five brand leaders in home security in the States and Canada, and had begun to branch out into the UK.
“Who asked for the change?”
“Giorgio Milletto,” said Erin, his marketing director.
So the CEO of CSS himself had requested the change. Interesting that he hadn’t contacted Kennedy directly. But if the merger went ahead—more of an acquisition for Grey Havens really—his company would consolidate their position as number one global security provider, even though CSS’ main focus was home security and they had only recently stepped into the corporate arena.
“I see.”
“We can’t ask them to reschedule again.”
“I know that, Erin. And we’re not going to.”
“Are you going to cancel your holiday?”
Many of his top managers continued to voice their concerns about him being away from the business for a whole month, even though he’d done so for the past seven or eight years. With Grey Havens being a family business, Kennedy worked tirelessly, early mornings and late nights, seven days a week, including public holidays. Sleeping three or four hours a night, he was essentially on-call twenty-four-seven. If he could not leave the company safely in the hands of his professional, well-paid, highly skilled and respected managers for a month, what the hell was the point in having them? In truth, he knew he’d created the problem himself, due to his tendency to micromanage his staff, adopting an outdated, paternalistic style of management. Of course they would always be nervous without him around, but then, wasn’t that how people grew? And if push came to shove, he was always at the end of a telephone line or an online conferencing system.
“No.”
“So will you dial in? From wherever you are? Surely they’ll have Wi-Fi?”
Of all his staff, Erin probably clung to him the most.
“You know that’s not an option. With something this important, I like to watch the faces of the people on the other side of the table, see the whites of their eyes, especially those who aren’t speaking. That is so important when we’re negotiating.”
“Skype?”
“Not the same.”
“Then what, boss?”
As though prompted, Sloan Williamson chose that moment to stride into the room. Kennedy had chosen him well. Charismatic in a movie star kind of way, he oozed confidence and sex appeal and had the staff at Grey Havens eating out of his hands. Singularly straight, at only forty, he was already working on marrying for a third time. Sometimes his good looks fooled those he did business with, beguiled them into believing that he had no business acumen. Not a mistake they ever made twice. If someone took the time to analyse his history, really scrutinised—and Kennedy had—they would discover a trail of broken businessmen along the way who had made the fateful error of underestimating him. Publicly, Kennedy’s management team presented a united front. Privately, Kennedy had a suspicion that Sloan wanted his job.
“Ah, Mr Chief Operating Officer. Your ears must be burning.”
Without missing a beat, the man propped his backside on the end of Kennedy’s desk and undid a button on his Armani suit jacket. Even though Kennedy could not deny the man’s attraction, his brand of slick handsomeness did absolutely nothing for him. Erin had a different reaction—she rose from her chair and beamed, her cheeks flushed, and gazed in awe as she clutched her folder against her bosom.
“My ears burn all the time. What have I done this time?”
“This meeting with CSS.”
“Ah yeah, sorry about that,” said Sloan, pushing a lock of blond hair back over one ear. “Milletto asked for the change.”
“So Erin said. Reason?”
“Didn’t say.” Sloan’s stare didn’t waver as he responded to Kennedy.
“Do I need to change my plans?”
“Up to you,” said Sloan with a shrug.
“Or can I rely on you to deliver the goods?”
“You already know the answer to that. The merger’s already in the bag. It’s just the minutiae that need hammering out, something me, Karl and Erin here can deal with.”
“Good, that’s what I want to hear. And you know if you need me urgently, I’ll have my phone on day and night.”
Both of his staff members remained unmoving in his office.
“Anything else?” he asked, spreading his hands out, palms upward. “Otherwise this is the part where you both get back to work.”
“No, boss,” said Erin.
She gathered her papers then hurried out of the room. Sloan hesitated a moment before going over and closing the door, but remaining in the room.
“Why do you think so highly of Karl?” asked Sloan, his back to the door.
Kennedy had personally headhunted Karl McDonagh, his head of legal, because the man could smell a bad deal a mile away. Beside the fact that the man had a wealth of experience in both finance and law, he was loyal to a fault. Of all Kennedy’s senior staff, only Karl stood up to Sloan. Kennedy enjoyed watching the pair of them try to outplay each other. Where Sloan used his charisma and opportunism to climb the ladder, Karl relied on watertight facts and figures. Even though they disliked each other, they made for a damn good management team.
“You know why. He’s solid and dependable. He’s our goalkeeper.”
“He’s a pen-pusher. Without an original idea in his brain.”
“That’s not what I employ him for—that’s why I employ you. He’s there to keep the company on track, to make sure everything we do is above board.”
“By holding us back.”
“By ensuring we don’t make rash decisions.”
“I don’t need him there at the CSS meeting. Erin and I can deal with Milletto.”
“Sorry, Sloan. Either Karl’s there, or the meeting doesn’t go ahead. That is not up for negotiation. Are we clear?”
Sloan’s poker face remained unchanged. He nodded once and left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Kennedy buzzed his secretary and told her to hold his calls and appointments for the next hour. He knew instinctively that Sloan had his own agenda, but as with all things in business, Kennedy had to be patient until the man showed his hand.
On his laptop, he opened his personal email and scrolled down to a message he had received earlier in the day, from red-headed Ven telling him he needed to pull out of the companion role for ‘personal reasons’. Not a huge loss, because Kennedy had decided to go with Francis. Checking the contacts in his mobile phone, Kennedy thumbed the number. After several rings, Francis answered—on a high street s
omewhere, by the sound of traffic noises in the background. Never one to mince words, Kennedy announced the good news and waited for Francis to speak.
“Can’t go.”
“What do you mean, you can’t go?”
“I can’t go, can I?” came the affronted voice.
“Why not?”
“Ollie won’t let me.”
“Ollie? Who the hell’s Ollie?”
“He’s my boyfriend, isn’t he? Changed his mind. Won’t let me go on me own.”
Kennedy pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why on earth did you apply for this position as companion if you already had a partner?”
“We both thought of it as a part-time job. Saw no harm in trying. But Ollie changed his mind. Gets a bit jealous. He’s like that sometimes. Unless you’d consider paying for both of us to come?”
“Goodbye, Francis.”
Kennedy scratched the back of his head and looked down at his ‘possible’ list. Two of them would drive him crazy before they even joined the cruise. For some reason, his eye kept getting drawn back to the straight guy, Kieran. Things would be different with him. There would be no pretence at anything sexual between them.
What the hell, he thought. At least this one didn’t have a whole list of demands and, more importantly, needed the job.
Before he second-guessed himself, he picked up the phone and called the number.
“I want to offer you the job, but clearly with certain conditions. You’ll still need to play the part of companion, but I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”
“Sex, you mean?”
“No, I mean any public displays of affection. Sex was never a part of the deal. So are you interested?”
Only soft breathing came from the other end of the phone. Irritation started to rise in Kennedy again, but just as he started to speak, Kieran cut in.
“Look, Mr Grey, I truly am interested. I was just—I was going through your clothing requirements and, well, I don’t have half of the items listed there. And rather than waste your time, I was going to call to say I’m afraid that financially I’m not exactly in a position—”
Companion Required Page 3
