Love You Like a Romance Novel

by Megan Derr

  Eventually, rhythm fell away as he drove into Jet's body, desperation overriding the need to savor. He took hold of Jet's cock and stroked it until Jet came with a shout. Jason muffled his own climax in Jet's mouth, shuddering in Jet's arms as his orgasm tore through him.

  They collapsed in a sweaty, sticky pile. Rolling onto his back, Jason dragged Jet to lie on top of him. Jet yawned, blinked, and tried to get up. "We have work—"

  "Shut up," Jason said and pulled him back down, pinning Jet to him with a loose embrace. "Go to sleep."

  Jet muttered something that Jason did not catch, but was probably crude, and relaxed against him. The room was cool, Jason preferring things a little chilly, and after a bit of fumbling he managed to get the blankets up over them without dislodging Jet.

  It wasn't exactly comfortable, being sweaty and sticky and the blanket would soon make him too warm—but Jet was already asleep in his arms, and sleeping was the one thing they never did in his bed, and even if his father walked into his bedroom right then Jason would not give a flying fuck about the consequences.

  Despite everything, Jason was pulled into a nap himself. When he woke, it was to the buzzing of the phone in his pants. Grimacing, he disentangled himself from Jet, pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, and went to fetch his phone.

  He walked into the bathroom as he answered it, closing the door quietly behind him. "What?"

  "We need to talk more about my brother and his will. I'm going to dispute."

  "Go ahead," Jason said acidly. "Everyone will love to see father and son going at it. Are you even thinking straight? You'll lose, I can tell you that. I'm better than you with this sort of thing, even if you hate admitting it. The will is ironclad. Take your yacht and drop the matter."

  He hung up, and then turned his phone off. If the firm really needed to reach him, his assistant knew how. Nobody else mattered right then. Jason turned on the shower and stepped into the stall, letting the hot water and steam wash away his frustrations.

  When he was clean, he strode back into his bedroom and pulled on gray slacks and a navy blue polo. Downstairs, he picked up the mess Jet had made of his work. He'd just gotten it cleaned up when his housekeeper appeared with a tray of coffee and a roast beef sandwich. "I love you, Annie."

  Annie laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Dinner is ready to go in the oven and dessert is in the fridge. If you don't need me the rest of the day, I'm going to pop out early. Mary is flying back today and I said I'd pick her up at the airport if I could."

  "Of course," Jason said, smiling. "I'll be too busy with work and all, so take the weekend. My best to you and your wife."

  "Take care, sir. I'm sorry again about your uncle."

  "Thank you," Jason said. He settled into lunch and work once she'd gone, preparing papers he knew Jet would need and then moving on to contracts. He got up briefly to fetch more coffee and was halfway back to the study when the doorbell rang.

  Was it three o'clock already? Seemed so. Going to the front door, Jason pulled it open and greeted the woman standing on the porch. "Good afternoon. You must be Constance Raine."

  "Please, call me Connie," she replied with a smile.

  Jason stepped back to let her in, then shook hands. She was a handsome woman—sharp, professional, and he could easily believe she wielded the iron fist about which he'd heard so much. "Thank you for coming."

  "Pleasure is mine," Connie said cheerfully. "Boss man was happy to hear of your possible offer. I've come to sweeten the pot, as promised. All unofficial for now, of course."

  Gesturing her toward the study, Jason murmured, "Of course. I do not anticipate the deal falling through, but it is not my decision to make. I have not mentioned it to my client yet, I assume you understand why."

  "Yes, of course," Connie said. "I left flowers at his home, personal condolences from my boss. Our condolences to you as well; it cannot be easy to be the one who must coordinate everything. Everyone knows your uncle was fond of you."

  "Thank you," Jason said. He would argue his uncle hadn't been particularly fond of him, exactly, but he had trusted Jason more than he'd trusted his own brother. "Would you like something to drink?"

  Connie shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." She slid the leather folder she'd been carrying across the desk. "Our offer, and of course there are no hard feelings if he chooses not to pursue it. We appreciate the offer was even made and will happily continue with things as they currently stand if that is what he chooses to do. But if he does pursue it, do not be surprised if a request is made for a private concert on the island." She grinned playfully. "My boss is a very big fan, but never has time to attend the concerts."

  Jason laughed. "I cannot speak for my client in that regard, but I think if a request was made that it would not be refused."

  "He will be happy to hear that," Connie said and rose smoothly to her feet. "I will leave you to read over the offer at your leisure and speak to your client. Good day to you, Mr. Kristopherson."

  Jason rose, shook her hand again, and saw her out. Back in his office, he flicked open the leather folder. Just a glance at the number involved made his eyebrows shoot up. Given who he was dealing with, however, the number was an easy offer to make.

  He closed the folder, not in the mood to go through it in detail quite yet. Though he knew he was doing the right thing, it was going to cost him. Jet would be happier, but Jason's father would probably never forgive him.

  Sighing, Jason went to make more coffee before he started going through a contract just sent to him by one of his older clients.

  The urge to go back upstairs and curl up with Jet again was strong, but he resisted. He didn't want to chance getting used to something he was never going to be able to have.

  Track 03: Pandemonium

  Jet loved Club Pandemonium. Members exclusive, guests had to be vetted well ahead of time, and getting a membership was only slightly less difficult than gaining clearance to be a government agent.

  The owner of Club Pan was a beauty called Lord Taylor. Whether Taylor was male or female, no one knew outside a precious few. The mysterious, androgynous owner was one of the many draws, though it drove Taylor batshit.

  Jet and Taylor had met in a coffeehouse, when both had been up late working on schoolwork. They'd had an on-off thing for years, that rare occasion where friends and benefits did not blow up in anyone's face. But Jet eventually had Jason—sort of—and Taylor had snagged a lovely producer, and the benefits had faded easily away.

  "Jet," Taylor greeted, hugging him tightly, smelling of cinnamon and amber like always. "I'm so sorry. Come on, I've got your room all set up. The others have been arriving over the past hour."

  Not saying anything, just glad to be away from the heavy weights of family, media, and Jason, Jet let Taylor lead him through the club to one of the special rooms that lined two of the walls. The special glass allowed everyone in the rooms to see out, but no one could see in.

  He was bustled into the room always kept on reserve for him and relaxed further when he saw his closest friends gathered around. Taylor kissed his cheek then slipped away to see to drinks and food.

  "Yo," greeted a man with short, platinum blond hair and pale green eyes. Beside him was a man who was his double, though the hair was longer and pulled neatly back. They had their glasses on for once, rather than contacts, giving them a cute, geeky sort of look that both twins would hate if someone told them.

  Jet embraced them both. "Hey, Brit," he said to the short-haired twin, who was lead vocals for the band Brite Knights. His brother, Brice, was the band's manager. "Hiya, Brice."

  "Sorry about your dad, man."

  "Thanks," Jet said quietly, then greeted the other men in the room: Cassidy, lead vocals for One Butterfly Missing, and his pretty boy lover Malcolm, and the other members of his own band, Kim, Ricky, and Misha.

  Dai and Cooper arrived a few minutes later, and they all settled on the couches and chairs that took up most of the room. "Rumor mills are already going
crazy about what you've inherited and what you're going to do with it."

  Jet made a face. "I'm going to fucking burn it." Everyone laughed, and the stress that always kicked up whenever he thought of his father's company eased. "Seriously, why does everyone care? I'm not giving up my band to sit in some glass tower paying other people to sell sandwiches. Ugh. Fuck that noise. I'd rather join a goddamn boy band."

  "I'm sure Hale would love to have you in Five of Hearts," Cassidy said with a smirk.

  "I will punch you in the face," Jet said cheerfully. "The only one here pretty enough to make it Six of Hearts is your mancandy there."

  Malcolm rolled his eyes. "I'm getting another drink." He kissed Cassidy's cheek, then stood up and slipped out of the room.

  "So what are you going to do, Jet?" Brice asked quietly.

  The question might have annoyed him coming from anyone else, but Brice knew better than most at the table what went into acquiring so much, so fast. He and Britton also knew what it was like to lose that much really fast.

  "Probably gonna sell," Jet said with a sigh. "I'm not up for it, and I'm sure as fuck not giving it to my goddamn uncle. I'm meeting with Jason tomorrow to discuss buyers."

  Dai shook his head, and looked at him sympathetically. "My dad is going to fucking kill you, man. I still can't believe Jay is sticking to you so hard. Who knew Stick in the Mud Junior had it in him?"

  "Everyone has his moments," Jet replied, stomach knotting. He hated when Dai insulted Jay, even if it was in his light, harmless fashion. There was no bond between the brothers, but they didn't hate each other either—they were just too different.

  He absolutely dreaded the day Dai found out about him and Jason. And it would happen, because no secret was kept forever. Every day he put it off upped the chances Dai would find out the hard way, which made Jet feel worse and worse. How the fuck was he supposed to sit his best friend down and say 'I'm in love with the brother you don't like very much, and we've been sleeping together for years. Also, it's only because I'm sort of blackmailing him.'

  Raising his glass, he attempted to drown the tumultuous thoughts in his rusty nail. He didn't quite succeed, but was distracted by the troubled look on Malcolm's face when he slipped back inside with a tray of drinks. "Hard Play is here."

  "Fuck them," Jet said, twisting in his seat to stare at the crowd beyond their private room—and tensed when he saw Nikko Starr striding toward it with that catwalk strut of his.

  Some people just were not destined to get along; some bands were not destined to get along. Forever and a Dai would forever be mortal enemies with the arrogant fuckwits that were Hard Play.

  People often made cracks about how Malcolm should have been a model. Nobody dared make cracks about the fact Nikko had been a model. How he had moved from model to musician, nobody really knew, but the man flourished. Jet still burned for one good reason to break his nose.

  "I'll run him off," Dai said in a tone of voice people seldom heard. Of them all, Dai was the mildest—until he was well and truly pissed, and then it was every man for himself.

  Jet put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "Forget it. I got it. I promise I won't start shit or encourage it or finish it. I'm not in the mood to put up with Nikko, but I'm in less of a mood for tabloids and a visit to county lock up."

  Dai gave him a warning look for good measure anyway, but let him go without real protest. When Nikko knocked on the door, Jet opened it and said, "What up?"

  "I want to say I'm sorry," Nikko said.

  Jet's jaw dropped for a minute. "Uh. Thanks."

  Nikko nodded stiffly, and then said hesitantly. "My mom is in Kenton. She won't be coming back out. So, you know, fuck whatever. I'm sorry."

  "Thanks," Jet said again. He'd heard rumors about Nikko's mother being in the hospital, but hadn't paid them much attention while they were busy in Europe. Damn. "I'm sorry about your mom."

  Nodding again, Nikko made to leave, but hesitated again. "Look, much as I would like to see you in handcuffs, Jefferson, watch your back. There are fat cats in here and their tails are lashing."

  "Great," Jet muttered, then eyed Nikko. "Why the fuck are you warning me?"

  "Cause this is our playground and ain't nobody gonna string you up from the monkey bars, but me. Ciao." He was gone before Jet could form a reply.

  He half turned as Dai appeared at his side, draping himself over Jet's shoulder. "Did ... did you and Nikko just have a civil conversation? Fuck me, I hope we're headed for a raining fire apocalypse and not a zombie one. I hate zombies. Fuck zombies. Why does everyone—"

  "His mom is dying," Jet cut in before Dai could get going on another anti-zombie tirade. "He said he was sorry."

  "Aw, hell," Dai said with a sigh. "Poor bastard. I'm about sick of all this dying shit."

  Jet grunted in agreement, then said more quietly as he skimmed the crowd, "He also warned me there were corporate types on the prowl."

  "How'd they get in? Must be members or acceptable guests, but Taylor would never let in someone slightly suspicious. I'll go see what's up."

  Nodding, Jet let Dai slip away and stepped back into the private room himself. Halfway back to the cluster of couches, he hesitated, hand straying to his pocket. Finally, he pulled it out and called up his list of favored contacts. Choosing one, he waited impatiently as it rang.

  "What's wrong?" Jason asked immediately.

  Jet sighed. "Does something have to be wrong?"

  "You never call me for any other reason," Jason said lightly, but Jet thought—or imagined—he heard a sting of reprimand behind it.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "But yeah, something might be wrong. We're at Club Pan, and someone warned me there are suits here. I haven't seen them, and Dai is looking into it, but I wanted to let you know there's a sliver of a chance of trouble."

  Jason made a noise that might have almost been a laugh. Stupidly, it warmed Jet through better, deeper, than even the best whiskey. "Only a sliver? I don't believe you. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

  "No—" But Jason was gone. Jet scowled at his phone. Why the fuck was Jason coming to the club. Since when can you get into Club Pan? He texted, irritated.

  The reply was slow in coming, but all Jason when it did. I'm the best entertainment lawyer in the city. There's not a club in it that doesn't want me on their VIP lists.

  Your humility is your finest feature.

  I know.

  Rolling his eyes, Jet shoved his phone back into his pocket and went to fetch his drink, suddenly in very sore need of it. He tossed back what remained in the glass and accepted the fresh one Malcolm handed him with a smile.

  "You look suddenly stressed."

  "I think I just accidentally summoned Jason," Jet said with a sigh and took a swallow of his drink. He set it down with a click on the glass coffee table. "Fucking hell."

  Brit burst out laughing. "Jason? Wow, Dai is not going to be amused with you. I didn't think you got along with him either, even if he is your lawyer."

  "Lately it's been … weirdly okay," Jet said. "He and his dad are on outs because he's sticking by me."

  That startled them all into silence, and Jet slammed back the rest of his drink. He had not intended to get drunk when he'd planned to go to Club Pan, but fuck if the idea wasn't sounding better and better.

  "Dai is coming back," Brice said quietly. "He doesn't look happy."

  Jet swore under his breath, then stood, turned, and strode to the door to meet Dai. "So what's the buzz, cuz?"

  "I think they're some of dad's goons. Not dad's directly, but thugs tied to guys who are tied to dad. Don't know who they are exactly. I almost wish Jay was here because he would—what?" he asked when Jet winced. "You didn't."

  "I just wanted to give him a head's up." Dai frowned at him. "What?"

  "You and Jason have both gone 'tale of the body snatchers' lately. You, I understand. Jay, not so much. Together, it's downright Oz. What the hell is up?"

  Jet shrugged, looked
away. "Nothing."

  "You're a goddamn liar," Dai snapped. "Why are you two acting so funny?"

  It was on the tip of his tongue to come clean, to just have done with it—but then all he could see was Dai losing it. Being mad at him. Not talking to him. And Jason would be pissed because he'd spilled their dirty secret.

  He just couldn't take it, even if bit him in the ass later. "Nothing," he said again. "I think the bastard just feels sorry for me."

  "If you say so," Dai said, but Jet knew he had only tabled the argument for the moment. "So why do you think they're here? What the hell could they possible—"

  The sight of three men in sharp tailored suits strutting up to the door and knocking stopped him. Taylor must have been wrapped up in a major problem not to have prevented their getting anywhere near him.

  Well, whatever. He was a big boy; he could take care of himself. Yanking open the door, Jet smiled sweetly and said, "You gentlemen look lost. The Old-Fashioned is two blocks south, then one block east. I can get the staff to call you a cab, if you like."

  "Our boss would just like a word with you, is all," the men said. "He's in room seven. We're not here to start trouble."

  Dai, at Jet's side, stepped slightly forward, forcing the men to take a step back. "No deal. This is a club, not a boardroom, and—"

  "One meeting won't hurt," Jet said.

  Rounding on him, Dai leveled a death glare. "Have you lost your mind?"

  "I just wanted to come here and relax with friends. Better to go tell the guy no and have done so I can come back here and have uninterrupted, right?"

  "Jet ... what's wrong? You really are being weird. Fuck them. Just come back—"

  Pushing him away, annoyed, Jet snapped, "I can handle one goddamn informal business meeting, for fuck's sake. I was going to business meetings when I was twelve." He ignored the angry, hurt look on Dai's face and followed after the men in suits.