Save Me (Savior Series): Contemporary Gay Romance

by Kensie King

  “I forgot breakfast,” he mumbled, still standing at the elevator.

  “Sit.” I gestured to the counter. “I’ll order something.”

  “You don’t—”

  He broke off when I pulled out my phone and barked out an order to the kitchen staff. “And make it quick,” I added.

  I ended the call and walked to him, taking in the soft blue dress shirt he wore today. The dark slacks that fit him to a tee. Much better than yesterday’s suit. Which only made me want even more to see what was underneath.

  “I have a deal for you,” I said abruptly.

  He angled his head. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a job, actually.”

  “I already have a job.”

  “Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It wasn’t what he said—or not only what he said—it was the way he said it. The way his eyes locked on mine like I was the only person in the entire world. Like he was…making a proposition.

  Heat spread through my body and made it come alive. I shifted on the stool, hoping he didn’t notice. I might have pleasured myself to the memory of him last night, but that was a fantasy.

  The real Preston Crane, though sexy as hell, was an asshole. He acted like he could do anything he wanted and sorry, I wasn’t one of those things.

  I cleared my throat. “A job?”

  He leaned against the island, folding his arms across his chest. I tried not to stare at his muscular arms or the long line of his legs. Or every other perfect part of his body. “I need an assistant.”

  “What?”

  He arched one brow as if to say eloquence wasn’t my strong suit. “An assistant is someone who—”

  “I know what an assistant is.” I couldn’t help the snap in my voice. Damn him, all cocky and holier than thou. “I’m sure you can find someone infinitely more qualified.”

  “I want you.”

  The words zapped me right in the core. I squirmed on the stool again. “I…”

  His phone rang, and he stared at it a moment as if deciding whether the distraction was worth it. Then he answered, listened for a minute, and said, “Come up.” He nodded at me. “It’s our food. You think about what I said for a minute.”

  Before I could tell him I didn’t need to think about anything, he walked to the elevator and waited while it dinged and opened up to reveal one of the hotel staff rolling a cart full of food. And orange juice. Lots of orange juice.

  Damn. The man sure knew how to command a room. Preston moved smoothly, spoke with authority—practically had the guy with the cart trembling in his bowtie.

  Mr. Crane whipped out a few bills that looked suspiciously like the one the lady with the purse had given me yesterday, and had the man with cart gaping. He finally stuttered out, “Thank you, sir. Mr. Crane.”

  “That’s all,” Mr. Crane said, dismissing him.

  He hurried to the elevator and vanished.

  My mouth was already open, ready to give Mr. Crane a piece of my mind. But then he snapped, “Breakfast first.”

  What the hell? Did he think it was okay to boss people around like this? Oh yeah…I guess I was his employee and he was my boss, but still. I could handle working down at the store, but working directly for Mr. Crane? No way. Then he really would boss me around. I couldn’t live like that.

  Mr. Crane put a platter in front of me, taking off the lid to reveal everything from bacon to eggs and French toast. He set a bowl of fruit next to me and poured a large glass of orange juice. “Anything else?”

  Anything else? Like I was the one who insisted on ordering breakfast.

  “No, thanks,” I said. See? I still had manners even when he was being an ass.

  When he didn’t join me, only stood watching, I folded my hands in my lap. “You can’t stand there and watch me. Sit. Eat.”

  His dark eyebrows lowered over his eyes. I bit back a laugh. It wasn’t as much fun when he was the one being bossed around was it?

  To my surprise, he sat on the stool next to me—so much closer than I would have preferred—and opened his own platter. We ate in silence a few moments before he started in on the job again.

  “You’ll get a substantial raise,” he said.

  I started to shake my head, but he quoted a number, and I choked on my bacon. Coughing, almost sputtering, I accepted the glass of orange juice he offered me. It took a few swallows and got the coughing under control.

  “I’m assuming by that reaction that’s acceptable to you,” he said.

  I gaped at him. “Acceptable?”

  “Acceptable means that you—”

  “Oh, my God. I know what acceptable means.” I pushed back in my chair and stood. “And no, it’s not acceptable. I can’t work for you.”

  “But you already do.”

  This man was infuriating. “I can’t work for you in that capacity. We clearly don’t get along and—”

  “What does getting along have to do with it?”

  “Everything. It has—what are you doing?”

  He stood from his chair, taking a step closer to me. “Convincing you.”

  For a minute, I thought he was going to kiss me. His eyes gentled and his hand came up. He trapped my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted my face up so our gazes connected.

  “I don’t need convincing…” But he didn’t seem to hear me.

  “Mr. Tanner. Eric. I need you to do this. I can’t find anyone else. I need someone I trust.”

  “But—”

  “I need you.”

  #

  I waited, convinced I’d win him over by those words alone. After all, that was part of what drew me to him in the first place. Her complete lack of selfishness. It was in his nature to help people, to do the right thing—I’d seen that much and more in the months I’d been watching him.

  His lips parted, breath releasing in a soft sigh. My gut clenched, balls drawing up. Shit. If he kept looking at me like that, I wasn’t going to be able to help myself. People always used to say I was compulsive. That was part of the reason I’d stayed away from the outside world for so long. There were other ones, too, but that one was my fault.

  I moved my thumb, trailing it along his bottom lip. It was so soft, so perfect. I wanted to hear my name from his lips. To hear him shout out in ecstasy when I buried myself in him.

  “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

  It broke my trance. He needed details. He needed to know more. Then he’d understand.

  Stepping back, I grabbed his hand and tugged him down the hallway to the studio. His eyes widened when he got inside. “I thought this was just a regular suite. It looks like you live here. Permanently.”

  “This place was built with that in mind,” I said, keeping it simple. I knew I needed to be close to my business—especially knowing the rest. That I didn’t ever plan on truly being part of it again.

  He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but then saw the paintings. He pulled from my grasp and walked to the one on the easel. He reached out his hand, almost as if to touch it, but then pulled back.

  “I’ve seen one like this before. Those paintings downstairs in the store…” He whipped around. “You’re the artist?”

  “No one knows but Stone. And now you.”

  “I—I wasn’t going to tell anyone. But…” He wandered to the table, where several other paintings were on display, some very similar to those downstairs. “I love this series.”

  I did too. It was one of my favorites. Until I’d seen Eric and couldn’t imagine painting anything else but him.

  “I don’t know much about painting. I don’t—”

  “You’re an artist. Photography, right?”

  He turned around again, and this time his eyes narrowed. He bit his lower lip, and I nearly grabbed his arms to stop him. No, to take over. To bite his lip myself, to nibble my way down his jaw, his neck, and lower.

  “How did you know?” he asked.r />
  I fought back the sudden grin that wanted to come out. “Social media.”

  Which I didn’t spend any time on, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said.

  “Try.”

  He crossed his arms and stalked toward me with purpose in his eyes. “It feels like you know more about me than I know about you.”

  “I’m your boss. Isn’t that how it works?”

  “If you were my boss, you’d be coming down to the store to talk to me. Or meeting with me somewhere…” He glanced around. “I don’t know—somewhere people have meetings. You wouldn’t have me up here in your home.”

  I gritted my teeth. He was playing the professional card—and I couldn’t argue. If this had been five years ago, there was no way in hell I would have had any of my employee’s step foot in my home. Business stayed at work. And pleasure stayed at home.

  “So, what’s the deal, Mr. Crane?” he asked, voice lower as he stepped closer.

  “There’s no deal.”

  “Then next time you want to talk to me, do it in a neutral meeting space.”

  “What’s the fucking difference,” I growled, hating the challenge I saw in his eyes. I didn’t owe him an explanation.

  Eric’s mouth dropped open at the anger in my tone. “You’re scared,” he whispered after a moment. “Monica was right. You’re scared to leave your house. You—”

  I gripped his arm tightly, ignoring the noise of disapproval he made deep in his throat. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Damn right,” he hissed.

  At the elevator, I released him as though he’d burned me. I jammed my finger against the button, trying to quell the urgency building inside of me, the panic threatening to take over.

  He crossed his arms again and entered the elevator immediately after it opened. Then he turned around, and just as the doors closed, said, “I quit.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The bar was packed tonight, and it was just what I needed. A night with my good friend, Jane, who was only in town until tomorrow. Besides Jane, I didn’t have many other friends. Too busy working, too busy trying to make a place for myself. Too busy trying to take care of the only family I had left.

  I thought working at Crane Towers in the gallery might have helped with all of those things. But not with a jackass of a boss like that.

  The music started up again and Jane dragged me to the dance floor. Halfway tipsy and prepared to get a lot drunk, I stumbled along behind her, letting my inhibitions down. That was what being young was all about.

  Damn Preston Crane. He had no idea how to be fun—no doubt that was why he was such a dick. That and he had a stick so far up his ass, it’d take a miracle to remove it.

  “I’m glad I quit,” I told Jane as she swiveled her hips in front of me.

  “Good. You deserve to work somewhere you love.”

  “I do!”

  “You could come work with me,” Jane said.

  “I’d have to move.”

  Jane grinned, pitching her voice above the music. “Obviously. You need that, E. Somewhere to start over.”

  I’d considered it before. Wanted it more than I could say.

  Then I shook my head. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

  Jane gave my arm a shake. “You don’t owe her anything, you know.”

  My mom, that’s who she was talking about. She’d been sick for years, and in an institution I had to help pay for with my measly paycheck even though she treated me like shit. All of the sudden, the beer I’d drunk earlier swirled in my stomach. I’d quit my job. And I’d turned down the offer for an even better job.

  “I’m not feeling very well,” I told her.

  Jane linked arms with me and we both walked from the dance floor. Once we stepped outside, the air cool against my cheeks, I felt more sober. But I still knew I’d made a rash choice today. One that was going to cost me.

  “I’m going to head home, too,” Jane said. “You want me to come to your place a bit first?”

  “No. I know you have to pack.” I hugged her. “I’ll call you soon.”

  She hailed a cab, then nodded. “Remember what I said. You can come live with me. I know you’d love it there.” The cab pulled to the curb and she opened the door. “You coming?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll walk. I need the fresh air.”

  She glanced around. “Bad idea.”

  To placate her, I waved her on and said, “I’ll catch the next one then.”

  She nodded. “Call me!”

  Once she was gone, I sighed and debated whether or not to follow through on my promise. I felt like if I got in a cab right now, the lack of fresh air would make my small dinner and overindulgence in drinks come right up.

  A moment later, my phone rang. I answered it without paying attention to the number, thinking it was Jane. “Hey.”

  “Mr. Tanner.”

  His voice made a shiver work its way down my body. Then I frowned and started walking in the direction of my apartment, relishing the cool air on my face.

  “Mr. Crane,” I returned with contempt in my voice. “Why are you calling me?”

  Voices sounded over my shoulder and I glanced behind me. Two men walked several feet behind me, whispering about something.

  He must have heard the background noises too. “Where are you?”

  “You’re not my boss anymore—it’s none of your business.”

  “That’s what I called to talk to you about.”

  “My life being none of your business? That’s the first time we’ve agreed on anything—”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “None. Of. Your. Business.” It sounded funny coming from my mouth, which made it clear just how much I had been drinking.

  “It sounds like you’re outside,” he murmured, then cursed. “Stone.”

  “Stone?”

  He said something, mouth turned away from the phone, almost like he was giving instructions.

  “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I told him.

  The voices behind me grew closer, and I looked behind me again. One of the guys smiled at me, teeth flashing white in the darkness.

  “Eric,” Preston said calmly. “I’d feel better if we talk about this in person. And I hope you’re not alone if you’re outside.”

  “It’s not…” I looked over my shoulder again when one of the men jeered at me. “There’s someone behind me.”

  “Where are you?” he snapped.

  “It’s fine. I’m sure—”

  “Where are you?” he asked again, voice low and dangerous.

  I gave him the street I was on, suddenly cold despite the heat of the evening. “Preston…”

  He was saying something to someone else, giving them instructions. I walked faster, hating that I’d strayed so far from the club. I didn’t see anyone else around except for the two men. Normally, I felt safe in my neighborhood. But normally, I wasn’t so wasted, and I wasn’t so far from other people.

  The men got closer behind me and my stomach clenched. “Preston—"

  “Find someone else, Eric,” Preston said, genuine fear in his voice. “Run into the street if you have to. Yell for someone.”

  I started to take his advice, but arms came around me from behind. My phone fell from my hand and smashed on the sidewalk. Both men pulled me into the shadows of a building, and when I opened my mouth to yell, a fist hit me in the cheek.

  I stumbled to the ground. Oh God, oh God…

  “No need to yell,” one of the men sneered at me. “We don’t want any problems.”

  The other one kicked me hard in the stomach, making me double over. The night seemed to creep in around me, making me feel even colder and more alone.

  Alone except for the two men on both sides of me. I had to get out of here. I had to run, to find someone.

  I pushed to my feet, inching back from the men. Hoping they just wanted my wallet and they’d leave
me alone.

  “You—you can have whatever you want,” I said, my voice hitching. I reached back for my wallet.

  But when one of the men stepped in close again, I yelled at the top of my lungs and then kneed him in the balls.

  He doubled over as the other man reached for me. I shoved him as hard as I could and then turned and ran, refusing to slow down. My breath came in sharp pants, threatening to tear my lungs apart. When I rounded the corner and slammed into someone, another yell rose up.

  “Mr. Tanner,” a voice snapped.

  I looked up in a daze and saw Stone, his eyes glinting in the darkness, jaw hard. “Oh my God,” I breathed. “How did you get here so fast?”

  “I was already on my way.” He pointed. “Get in the car.”

  I hadn’t noticed the black car parked along the side of the street until that moment. My body shaking with equal parts fear and relief, I hurried to the car, jumped in the front seat, and locked the door.

  #

  I paced the floor of the suite, shoving my hand through my hair. I’d tried to go with Stone because I needed to see if Eric was okay. But my legs fucking locked in the elevator, and I rode a wave of panic so intense, I had to kneel on the tile and wait for the tightness in my chest to pass.

  The moment the elevator dinged, I was at the doors. When they opened to reveal Stone and Eric, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, I blew out a breath of relief.

  “I didn’t ask him to bring me here,” Eric said softly, not stepping out of the elevator.

  “I did.” I reached out my hand. “Come here.”

  He licked his lower lip, and that’s when I noticed it. The bruise forming on his cheek.

  “Motherfuckers. What did they do?”

  He flinched, balking inside the elevator until Stone coaxed him out. He looked like he had something to say.

  “Give me a minute,” I said to Stone with a curt nod. Then I held my hand out for Eric. “Come with me.”

  I softened some when he didn’t hesitate, just placed his hand in mine. I led him to my bedroom because it’d be more comfortable for him than the spare. “You look tired. You can rest in here.”