Secret

by Kindle Alexander

  He’d love to spend a few hours talking ideas and concepts. At dinner, they’d done just that. Tristan had thought he’d smoothed some of the reservation out of the guy, gotten him more comfortable. Yet, from the time they’d walked into the nightclub, Dylan had become more reserved than before, if that were even possible.

  The after-hours events they planned had them at the high-dollar gentlemen’s club. Something Amy had set up for them against Tristan’s protests. Apparently her years in the South had paid off. David and Rob were loving the place, having a great time. They’d even migrated closer to the stage with his own team of guys right there with them, but Dylan had stayed back. And contrary to the one drink maximum he’d seemed intent on at dinner, Dylan never allowed his drink to empty, but he also didn’t partake in the good time the others were having.

  Since he was gay, Tristan hadn’t bothered to get too involved in stuffing the G-strings with folded dollar bills, but he loved watching everything going on around him. As the night progressed, he kept going between their reserved six-top in the back of the club where Dylan sat, to the table everyone else occupied up front. Since technically Dylan’s signature was the one that was going to be at the bottom of the contract, Tristan felt as if he needed the most wining and dining. On that thought, he straddled the chair opposite Dylan, swiveled around to watch him as he accepted another drink from the waitress.

  “Not your scene?” Tristan asked. It just occurred to him that whereas he had loosened his tie and undone his top shirt button, Dylan’s suit remained completely in order.

  “No, not so much,” Dylan responded, taking a good long gulp of his drink.

  His eyes were drawn to the movement of Dylan’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Tristan mentally scolded himself for staring and quickly looked away. “I’d have thought this was every guy’s good time out. Is it a religious thing? Should we leave?” Tristan questioned, studying the guy closely, trying hard to figure him out. He’d actually been a puzzle since he stepped off that elevator when they first met.

  “Nah, it’s fine. Everyone’s having a great time. I’m good,” Dylan answered. He glanced toward the stage, feigning interest. Tristan caught the move and got that the action was designed to derail the conversation, but Tristan wasn’t about to let it go.

  “Are you religious?” Tristan pressed. Maybe the alcohol still had him questioning Dylan, because clearly the guy didn’t want to talk. Tristan took another drink, crunched on some ice, and lifted his near-empty glass toward the waitress assigned to them for the evening.

  “Not really,” Dylan mumbled.

  “You’re married, right? Afraid the wife’ll get angry?” Tristan questioned. That earned him a half-assed laugh and a scoff that indicated the absurdity of his question. Dylan downed the new glass full of liquor in a couple of swallows. One thing for certain, the guy could hold his alcohol. Tristan had lost count of how much Dylan had drunk that night, but there was no sign of him being under the influence. Religious Bible Belters surely didn’t drink that much or give those crazy, inconsequential looks when their wives were mentioned.

  “Two more?” the waitress almost yelled over the blare of the music. Tristan nodded for the both of them, and when she was gone, his eyes were back on the perplexing man, staring hard, trying to figure him out. Dylan kept his gaze fixed on the stage. Interesting. Tristan loved puzzles, and Dylan was a big one. He just needed to work the pieces into place before it drove him insane.

  “Why aren’t you up there enjoying the show?” Dylan asked unexpectedly, his defensive gaze landing on Tristan.

  “I’m gay. This isn’t my scene at all.” Tristan hadn’t used those words for shock value since he’d been a teenager, but tonight he wanted a damn reaction out of the guy one way or another. Nothing except data centers seemed to penetrate that carefully laid facade. Dylan’s eyes widened and Tristan caught a hint of a blush as he glanced down and started to fidget with the corner of a napkin.

  Maybe?

  Tristan narrowed his eyes at Dylan’s body language and looked down his tense form. The suit pants were of the latest tight-fitting style. Tristan couldn’t help but notice Dylan’s package, and there was no way the guy was anything but flaccid, even with all these naked women roaming around. “You’re gay.”

  Dylan didn’t immediately respond, but his jaw clenched and he didn’t bother to even look up at Tristan. He sat there and stared a hole into the table.

  “Come on,” Tristan said, before he thought better of it. The waitress was back, two glasses in her hands. “Drink this and then this one,” he said, shoving both drinks toward Dylan. “I’m telling them we’re leaving. I’ve got a place I think you’ll like.”

  Tristan got off the chair, but kept an eye on Dylan. He hesitated before walking away. Dylan still looked shell-shocked at his declaration. Instinct had him changing his mind. Maybe he shouldn’t leave him alone. He palmed his phone while pushing the drink closer to Dylan’s hand. He’d text Landry and let him know they were leaving.

  “Drink faster,” Tristan instructed. They had two cars out front. He was taking one and taking Dylan with him. Finally Dylan did as he’d suggested, and like a seasoned pro, Dylan downed his drink and then Tristan’s. The pale color of his skin had him wondering if perhaps those drinks may be coming back up, but so far so good.

  “Let’s go!”

  “Where to?” Dylan asked. He didn’t move from his spot at the table. Tristan got the distinct impression Dylan meant more of a hell no, am I going anywhere with you.

  “Trust me,” Tristan replied. He took Dylan’s arm as he grabbed his own suit jacket off the chair. “I promise, everyone will have their clothes on.”

  That seemed to pacify Dylan. He stood, wobbled a bit, but righted himself pretty quickly. “What time is it?” Dylan yelled louder than the music.

  “About ten. It’s still early.” Tristan followed Dylan toward the front. They hit the doors and Tristan looked around for his car. One pulled forward immediately. The driver jumped out, opening the town car door for them. Dylan got in first and scooted across the seat while Tristan followed, telling the driver where to take them. Dylan had moved as far away from him as possible, and he smiled at the gesture. A closeted gay man. How had he not figured that out sooner? Tristan’s phone vibrated, and he dug it out of his pocket.

  “Did you get my text?” Tristan asked Landry as he answered.

  “Yeah. He didn’t look like he was having too good a time.” Landry must have stepped outside, because as the music faded his voice became clearer.

  “Yeah, it’s not his scene. I’m gonna take him over to the Executive Club, talk some business,” he said, looking Dylan directly in the eyes as he lied to Landry.

  “Good. I’ll get these guys to the hotel in a couple of hours,” Landry said. “Amy did awesome with this one.”

  “Yeah, she did. I only got one good shot of you in a compromising position. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” Tristan chuckled and hung up before Landry could respond.

  “I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind to talk about business,” Dylan said. He’d drunk quite a bit, yet not one of his words came out slurred. It was pretty damn impressive.

  “I’m taking you to one of my favorite hangouts. It’s discreet, private, and dark. You won’t have to worry about anything.” Tristan didn’t push any further. He looked out the window as the driver drove toward his area of town.

  “I think I should just go back to the hotel,” Dylan stated flatly, which should have left no room for argument. Tristan wasn’t ready to let this go yet, though.

  “If you aren’t having a good time, we’ll leave. No harm, no foul.” Tristan refused to say another word. At this point, instinct led him more than anything. Of course he was attracted to the guy. Look at him for Christ’s sake, and Tristan had just enough alcohol in him that he did steal a glance, maybe letting his gaze linger a little longer than he should. Dylan was a hot, sexy man that turned him on, but that didn’
t mean he’d act on it. No, he wouldn’t act at all, but he’d take him someplace a little quieter and maybe a little more appealing to Dylan’s eye. He needed to get to know this guy better. At the moment, he wanted Dylan’s business more than he wanted his ass. Although, truth be told, he definitely wanted a shot at that tempting ass. Tristan forced his eyes away from the handsome man and prayed he wasn’t massively fucking everything up right now.

  The flip-flop of his heart made it hard to think. How in the fuck had Tristan figured out what no one else on the planet seemed to be able to? Fear gripped him, but the alcohol truly helped combat his concerns. That was the main reason he’d learned to stay away from drinking. It had a different effect on him than on most people. He didn’t get sloppy and slurry, he became completely uninhibited. That was dangerous in situations like this. He’d erroneously thought liquor would help him join in the fun of all those naked women. It hadn’t at all.

  Dylan watched as they pulled to the front of a high-rise. Nothing about the building gave him any clue what they were really doing, but he had his suspicions.

  The alcohol, finding out Tristan was a gay man, and then having that same man call him out had been about all his brain seemed able to process. Never in his thirty-seven years of life had anyone said those words to him. He played the stereotypical hetero husband so well that every person he knew would have sworn the Reeves family stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

  Dylan’s door opened and he hesitated. His ability to reason made a resurgence, and he couldn’t understand why he’d even gotten inside this car. Why hadn’t he declared Tristan’s words a lie and headed down front to sit with the guys? That would have been the smart thing to do.

  Tristan’s smooth voice caught his attention as he ducked his head through the open door. “I promise it’s discreet. Your secret’s safe in here.” He hadn’t even heard him get out of the car, let alone seen him walk around to Dylan’s side. He took a deep breath and steeled his spine. He didn’t have to admit to anything. He could deny things starting right now, but at this point, he was holding up traffic and causing a scene.

  “Where are we?” he asked weakly. The conviction he just developed hadn’t made its way to his voice. There was no way he was going inside a gay bar.

  “Chasers. It’s a gentleman’s dinner club. It’s quieter here. A different crowd,” Tristan said, extending a hand for Dylan to help get him out of the car.

  “I’ve had a lot to drink. I should probably go back to my hotel,” Dylan said lamely, not moving a muscle.

  “It’s not far. Come have a drink with me, and I’ll take you back to your room,” Tristan suggested. This time his hand drifted to his arm, gently pulling him from his seat. Dylan stood on the busy street, staring up at the building until Tristan’s hand caressed the small of his back. That got him moving. He couldn’t let himself be touched. That was too much. Even tipsy, his body stirred and his dick plumped. He moved toward the front doors and decided on water for the rest of the night.

  “This way,” Tristan said, leading him down a darkened hall to two massive oak doors held open wide. A man dressed in a tuxedo greeted Tristan by name as they entered the dimly lit room.

  Funny how he hadn’t wanted the guy to touch him, but now that he was here in this place, he didn’t want to leave Tristan’s side. Staying close, he took in his surroundings. Oversized, black and white prints of men in various stages of undress dominated the charcoal gray walls. A mixture of both large and small tables adorned with black linen cloths and silver table runners filled the room. Expensive crystal fixtures lit the elaborate dining room and bar just enough to give the room an inviting glow. The establishment was completely packed, almost every table occupied. The clientele happened to be all men, no women, and every eye in the place was on him as they entered.

  “This way,” Tristan said from behind him, and the hand was again at his lower back, guiding him through the room.

  A waiter came around the corner wearing low-cut, tight black leather pants, no shirt, but he did have on a bow tie and carried a tray in his hand. He couldn’t have been much older than Chad. Dylan stared until Tristan nudged him toward a table in the corner.

  “Hey, Tristan, want your usual?” The waiter made his way to their table. Tristan pulled out Dylan’s chair before taking the empty one on the opposite side of the small round table.

  “That sounds good. Leo meet Dylan.”

  “Well, hello there, Mr. Dylan, what can I get you?” Leo asked, smiling brightly. The kid was muscular and flexed his biceps. He wasn’t sure how to react to the obvious flirting from the waiter. That had Tristan chuckling.

  “Water,” he stuttered, quickly looking away. The kid was a baby and boldly flirting with him.

  “He was drinking a 7 and 7 I believe. Bring him one of those too,” Tristan added.

  “Got it. Anything else?” Leo asked.

  “No, we’re fine,” Tristan answered.

  “Yes, you two sure are,” Leo purred, winking at Tristan before leaving the table. Tristan looked around the room, nodding at a couple by the bar, then at another guy dancing on the small dance floor on the other side of the bar. The music was subtle with a seventies feel. Dylan let himself survey his surroundings, but he didn’t keep his focus on anyone for too long. As he scanned the room, he noticed almost everyone looked their way. It took a second for him to realize most of the clientele were older and more than one wore a wedding band.

  “You come here regularly?” Dylan asked. This actually wasn’t that bad of a place. He wouldn’t want anyone to know he’d voluntarily come here, but he’d expected something completely different.

  “Yes, and you have to have a membership. Very exclusive. No one should know you. What happens here, stays here. Confidentiality’s required,” Tristan said casually, sitting back and relaxing as he loosened his tie even farther and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m sure quite a few of these men are married to women.”

  “I noticed the wedding bands, but it’s hard to tell nowadays. Do you hide?” Dylan asked, not necessarily ready to give up the panic, but willing to at least listen.

  “Not even a little bit, but I get why you do,” Tristan said, giving him a wink.

  “I haven’t admitted to anything.” Dylan hoped he didn’t sound too defensive as he looked away and back out over the bar.

  “No, you haven’t,” Tristan agreed as their drinks were placed in front of him. “Keep ’em coming, Leo.”

  “He doesn’t say much.” Leo inclined his head toward Dylan.

  “He will. He’s new. We just have to make him feel comfortable.” Tristan took a drink.

  “Then drink up, the alcohol really helps. Tristan’s a good guy. He’ll make sure you get home in one piece,” Leo urged, grinning down at him. Dylan completely closed up at those words. No way was he commenting on any of this. Leo chuckled and gave Tristan a fist bump before he left.

  “He’s about the same age as my daughter.”

  “No, he’s not. He’s twenty-seven and no way you’re old enough to have a daughter that age.”

  The guy looked much younger. “I’m thirty-seven,” Dylan admitted. Tristan lifted his glass.

  “See? Honesty’s a good thing.”

  “You’re younger than I am.” Dylan ignored the last comment.

  Tristan smiled as he swallowed. “I am, but not by much. So, tell me, how did you end up with a wife and three children?”

  Dylan took a drink of the water, but Tristan pushed the 7 and 7 over to him. “It’s really okay. No one will ever know you were here. We’re just two work associates having a drink.”

  Dylan stared at him long and hard before he picked up the drink. “Teri was my girlfriend in college. She was also my best friend, still is. We partied hard together all the time. My college days are a little hazy. Partying, denial, and lots of alcohol have been a part of everything wrong with my life. I decided alcohol gave me something to hide behind. Still does, I guess.” He took a long drin
k.

  “What’s that mean?” Tristan asked quietly.

  “I liked drinking. Perhaps a little too much. You know, it helped me hide all those confusing feelings when I was younger,” Dylan answered honestly.

  “So, you do or don’t drink because you are or aren’t an alcoholic?” Tristan asked, clearly confused. Dylan got he wasn’t making any sense. He’d never admitted any of this out loud before.

  He had at least a dozen or more drinks tonight already. He could see how Tristan had gotten the wrong idea, but his nerves needed a crap load of calming by the time they’d arrived at their earlier venue. Then between the attraction he felt for Tristan and the strip club, his limits had really been pushed. This was exactly why he planned his life so carefully.

  “I really don’t drink much anymore. I don’t think I was an alcoholic, I mean…I didn’t have to have a drink. Things were just easier when I did. I never acted drunk so I could hide how much I was actually drinking. I ended up getting my college girlfriend pregnant—three times before I was twenty-one—and I honestly don’t remember much about that time in my life. Thanks to this.” Dylan held up his 7 and 7 that he was drinking much slower now. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my family and I’m thankful for them. I absolutely wouldn’t be here talking to Wilder, Inc. about a buyout without them.”