Secret

by Kindle Alexander

  Tristan stayed there, watching as Dylan entered the elevator. From where he sat, he could see Dylan turn back, look his way, and lift a hand in his direction. No way could Dylan see him, but Tristan lifted his hand and waved. Dylan looked sad. He’d give him a few days, maybe a week, but Dylan would call…he was sure of it. You could only hide for so long, especially after you got a taste of what you wanted.

  “Maybe he’ll find someone to fuck at home,” Tristan mumbled out loud, surprising himself, but he pushed aside that thought and the jealousy those words caused. What they shared was more than a drunken fuck. At least he hoped he meant more than that to Dylan. Dylan would call. If he didn’t, Tristan would call him. He just really wanted Dylan to want him enough to make the next move. He needed that to happen.

  Tristan went through the house, ignoring the silly feelings of aloneness. Dylan had visited his home for barely more than twenty-four hours. He hadn’t had time to put his mark on anything or truly even belong in his space. Yet he’d done a tremendous job at making Tristan wish those things had happened.

  Something caught Tristan’s eyes. The pool guy was outside. He lifted a hand in greeting as regret and sadness coiled tight in his belly. He’d wanted to make love to Dylan in that pool. How had he let that opportunity slip through his fingers?

  That thought had him rolling his eyes. He wasn’t sure he did the whole lovesick thing very well. Yes, he was truly sad Dylan had left, but he’d see him again soon. He needed to move on to other things. He went for his cell phone, and with a couple of quick swipes, he pulled up the weekend itinerary again. They were leaving sometime this afternoon, he couldn’t remember the exact time. Maybe he could get a quick call in before he boarded the flight. He started to dial, but ended the call and pivoted on his heels. No, he wanted Dylan to make the next move and that was going to take a few days. The guy had the patience of Job.

  Instead of making any phone calls, he headed for the bathroom. He’d sweated so much this morning he was sure he was down thirty pounds. He figured he could use a good scrub and then a gallon of water.

  Besides all that, he definitely had more than enough work to occupy his mind. Tristan flipped on the shower and waited the second for the hot water to flow. He shook his head when he realized he was actually looking forward to going through his paperwork to keep himself from calling Dylan. And that proved how bad he had it for Mr. Reeves. On a deep sigh, he dropped his shorts and tugged his T-shirt over his head. So be it, paperwork on a Sunday afternoon would be a great distraction. Tristan stepped in the shower and refused to look over at the bathtub he’d shared with Dylan last night.

  Three hours later and the great paperwork plan to save his sanity had completely failed. Tristan had accomplished more mundane operational company tasks in the last few hours than he had in the last month, so go him on that one, but Dylan stayed front and present in his mind with every stroke of the keyboard.

  Funny how he kept thinking in terms of stroking.

  Landry sent him a dozen or so messages through email and text, wanting to have a word with him. Their last meeting hadn’t ended well. That usually meant they both needed time before they met again. Against his better judgment, he decided to make that phone call today. He kicked back in his office chair and palmed his phone. Landry answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, did they get off?” Tristan asked. Probably not the best starter, but it was the most urgent thought on his mind.

  “Yeah, about an hour ago. I need a few minutes to talk to you.” Landry sounded tense, so the cooling off probably hadn’t had time to kick in. They shouldn’t have this conversation now, but Tristan was primed for a fight.

  “Can it wait until the morning when I come in? I’m catching up on emails and going over this contract with Secret,” Tristan said, trying for reason and to buy himself time. Putting the huge issue of moving an entire division away from the chief operating officer’s responsibilities due to poor performance aside, Landry knew him too well. Childhood best friends tended to pick up on simple things like who each other was attracted to. If Landry went there, Tristan would never be able to convince him his actions were purely company-focused, and in those decisions, Tristan only had WilderNation’s best interest at heart.

  “You’re coming to the office in the morning?” Landry questioned, clearly surprised.

  “Yeah, I figured I would,” he answered.

  “If you had a problem with me, you should have told me directly. Not made me look like an ass in front of the entire company,” Landry started right in.

  “Whoa there, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Tristan cut in, trying to stop the rant he knew his friend was headed toward. “It’s only the social media division and that isn’t much of what we do. Actually it’s nothing to the overall picture, except a huge loss that I’d really like to at least make an attempt to break even on.”

  “It’s an operations function of Wilder, Inc.,” Landry shot back.

  “Reeves doesn’t want a long-term deal. We have him for transition, maybe a few years total. He can get us up and going,” Tristan replied.

  “I call bullshit. If that were the case, you wouldn’t have gone around me. Are you fucking him? ’Cause if you are, then don’t tie my hands. Let me in there. I can figure out what they’re doing right, what we can’t seem to understand, and roll it out properly to fit our corporate values.” Those words were almost yelled at him.

  There was silence from Tristan. He didn’t plan to change anything he’d set in place. Landry had been with him from his youth. He didn’t want to cause them issues, but he’d seen the problems with his own eyes during the tour of his company. They were becoming stagnant. Honestly, not just on WilderNation’s level, but as a whole. Landry hadn’t allowed them to move forward. He’d become a serious stuffed-shirt micromanager. Tristan completely blamed himself for all of this. He’d let things go. Let Landry run the show without watching him close enough because they were still making money. Now he saw he needed some one-on-one time with the guy to remind him of the innovative headway they had always made and how they got to where they were as a company. The advertising cash cow of their search engine wouldn’t hold them forever.

  “You are fucking him! I swear, Tristan, this is fucking business.” Landry’s tone turned hard. That attitude was just what Tristan needed to stop softening the blow and to finally put things straight between them.

  “Prescott, you’re letting this happen and you’re going to learn from this company and this man. They’re doing it right. We aren’t. And you’re too damn fucking hardheaded to do anything but go in there and dominate until you tear that company down. That’s why they’re under me now.”

  “So it’s my fault we’ve slowed down?” Landry shot back with a very distinct defensive-as-hell tone in his voice.

  “It’s all of our faults. Every member of the executive team is to blame, but you’re over all the operations for the entire company. It doesn’t take rocket science to know where the problem lies. We can fucking fix our issues or become obsolete.” Tristan laid the facts out there. He shouldn’t have made this call. He shouldn’t have talked to Landry yet.

  “We aren’t becoming obsolete. We might have bitten off more than we can chew,” Landry stated, so completely not a visionary’s viewpoint as far as Tristan was concerned.

  “If that’s the case, after everything is said and done, I’ll be spending millions to figure that out, so you better hope I’m right and you’re wrong,” Tristan countered, and Landry didn’t say anything.

  “I want in on this,” Landry finally said.

  “I’m not leaving you out. I just want to see if we can recoup what we’ve lost. WilderNation’s going to Secret,” Tristan explained, dropping his latest bombshell decision. It had been Landry that stuck his last name on everything they owned. Maybe the fix was as simple as a new face.

  “Another thing you decided without discussing it with anyone. I don’t think that’s it, you’re barking u
p the wrong tree. It’s a market share and first to draw in the baby boomers issue. You need to hear me on that,” Landry argued. He’d used those words over and over for the last few years, but technology was a younger person’s advantage. That was where they failed in this division. Landry kept targeting the wrong audience no matter what market research kept saying.

  “Are you really fucking him?” Landry asked.

  “I don’t want to discuss him like that,” Tristan bristled at the thought. The need to protect Dylan was stronger than admitting the truth to his best friend.

  “Since when?” Landry probed.

  “Since now. Did they get off okay? Were there any problems?” Tristan asked.

  “Why do you care? Of course everything went fine,” Landry said.

  “Then job well done. I’ll meet with the team tomorrow. Pull them together for me about mid-morning,” Tristan instructed.

  “I’m not your secretary,” Landry huffed.

  “Then tell your wife for me or put her on the damn phone so I can tell her myself,” Tristan shot back.

  “I want in on this, Tristan. When you’re done with him, he’ll bail on us. He’s too smart not to have a clause giving him an out. When that time comes, I’ll need to pick up the pieces. Those guys he has working for him can’t hold the company together. Trust me on that,” Landry said firmly, but quietly.

  “It’s not like that,” Tristan tried to explain, but hell, maybe Landry was right. If he pushed too hard, Dylan would be gone, and he’d be stuck with a division himself.

  “Don’t leave me out. I’m gonna keep pushing on this one. Fifty million with the hundred we’ve already lost is too much,” Landry pointed out.

  “We’re handling this strategically and very carefully. I don’t want him to bolt, but I want his success. I’m not going to jeopardize our company or our reputation.” Tristan wanted to be done with this conversation.

  “If he’s contractually bound, he’ll be forced to achieve our goals,” Landry commented.

  “He’s already made it clear, he wants that out clause. If he doesn’t get it, he’ll continue shopping around.”

  “Then payments should keep—” Landry started.

  “See? You bully your way in. We aren’t doing that with this. I’ve said that for the last six months—before we even decided who to go after.” Done with this conversation, Tristan swiveled in his chair, estimating the time. Did it take three or four hours to fly back to Dallas? He couldn’t remember. What were the chances Dylan would call him when he got home? Zero. That was the true answer and he even mentally called himself an ass for thinking of the possibility.

  “Hey, you still there?” Landry’s voice broke his train of thought. Shit, he’d thought he hung up on Landry after that last statement.

  “Yeah, what else?” Tristan asked.

  “Nothing, I guess. Look, this is ultimately your decision, but I’m going to try and change your mind. Think about what I said.”

  “Since that’s all you’ve said this entire conversation, it’s impossible not to think about what you said. Now return the favor. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tristan did disconnect the call that time. He opened email and shot off a quick message to meet with legal first thing in the morning. Maybe he could have this contract to Dylan by Tuesday. It would be pushing things, but that seemed his nature all of a sudden.

  “Two days and you have a revised, firm contract? That’s impressive, Dylan, even for you,” Teri said as she sat across from Dylan in his north Dallas office. She flipped through the pages Dylan printed for her. She somehow managed to make the formal business suit she wore look sexy as she crossed her legs, bouncing her foot while she scanned the document.

  “It’s not a big surprise. You could tell he wanted the company,” Dylan replied. Just like every other time she’d brought up Wilder, he dodged the questions with simple answers, but would generally begin to fidget, which he tried to rein in by linking his hands together on top of his desk. She knew him too well, knew the signs of his distress, and would begin to question him even more to figure out the root of his unease. Since he didn’t want to talk about things, and his heart was pretty much crushed in his chest, he needed her to stop any inquisition she was considering and do the job Secret paid her to do—review the contract and make sure they were protected.

  After a moment of her ignoring him, he felt safe enough to turn toward his computer and pull up his email. He needed to be sure nothing important had come through while they’d had lunch out together today. As he went through several messages, he didn’t pay her any attention when she stood, contract in hand, and walked across his office to shut the door.

  His sole focus of the day was avoiding the email he’d gotten this morning when his heart teetered in his chest at just seeing Tristan’s name appear in his inbox. As much as he’d tried to avoid any thought of the man because it hurt too badly to think of Tristan, he’d almost taken a nosedive when he walked off a curb as he raced to open the email on his phone while coming into the office this morning.

  He told himself he wasn’t disappointed the email was one hundred percent business-related. There wasn’t even a hint to the weekend they’d shared together and Dylan also told himself that was the way he wanted things. He’d actually demanded that of Tristan before he left.

  The deep longing in his heart kept getting in the way. He looked down at the time on the computer. Two full days had passed since he’d kissed Tristan goodbye and he hadn’t heard one single word from the guy.

  The fear of his future had taken on a whole new meaning. He’d fallen in love with his first gay sexual experience. Who did that besides sixteen-year-old boys? Certainly not a middle-aged man with three children. He tucked his head in his hands and rubbed his palm across his face. It took a moment, but he finally managed to school himself. His voice of reason sang a new chorus. He was emotionally attached to Tristan because he had sex for the first time in years. Nothing more. When he forced himself to think like that, all this emotion coursing through him usually settled down and gave him a couple of hours’ peace. Once he had sex with another man, his feelings for Tristan would level out.

  On stable ground again, Dylan looked back at the professionally crafted email and his heart plunged to his feet. Surely that response to seeing Tristan’s name would go away in time. It just sucked to not be wanted, when he wanted so badly. “No,” he said aloud to himself. This is for the better. Guys like Tristan wouldn’t wait for a closeted man’s little girl to graduate and move on to college.

  “Spill,” Teri said from behind him. She leaned against his desk. Her suit jacket gone. Her arms crossed over her chest. She’d obviously been there awhile and he’d completely forgotten she was even in the office.

  “What are you talking about?” Dylan asked, exiting out of his email.

  “You’ve been funky since you got home. You’re snappy. No one wants to talk to you because they’ll get their heads bitten off, and you’re more moody than I’ve ever seen you. Definitely not a man who just made millions of dollars,” Teri pointed out.

  He looked down at his hands. His palms were sweaty, his heart raced, and he felt like he wanted to cry. He’d never experienced this kind of emotional turmoil before in his life. He loved Teri, but that had been gradual. She was the mother of his children. As for the kids, he’d just looked at them and knew love. But Tristan was different. Did he really, truly fall in love with him in a forty-eight hour window?

  Absolutely.

  No! No! Lust. He lusted after Tristan. It was lack of sex and all that crap he kept telling himself.

  “You met someone,” she exclaimed, a huge smile growing on her face. “I wondered if you got laid, but you’re not acting like a man that got any after your self-imposed, very long dry spell. But you did and you like him, don’t you?”

  “It’s not like that,” Dylan started, because the truth was way too confusing, even to him.

  “Oh no, you’re doing that thing you do—denyi
ng yourself everything because of your perceived mistakes. You ruined it, didn’t you?” Her tone was hard and Dylan looked up to see her smile gone.

  “You know, this is really not the time for you to point out everything you think’s wrong with my life. I met someone, but I ended it.” Dylan started to rise, but she pushed him back in his seat, placing both arms on his chair.

  “Love’s hard to find, and when you do, you don’t throw it away. I’ve got Mark. I love him, Dylan. I’ll marry him when we’re divorced. He gets what we’re doing, he’s willing to wait, and no one—not even you—knows all the time I spend with him,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. “It’s because I’m not stupid enough to throw away my chance at that kind of love.”

  “I can’t be gone every time you come home,” he argued.

  “Yes, you can. Our kids are grown,” she said louder than he thought she’d intended. That had her pushing away from him. She paced in front of him, watching him closely with each step she took. “You’re such a frustrating man sometimes! Now, who is it? Do I know him?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not pursuing this. It was one weekend out of his life. He’s not pursuing me. It’s over. I had sex this weekend for the first time in a long time. It meant more to me because it’s been so long,” Dylan reasoned.

  “So you both agreed on just sex?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Dylan replied with a firm nod because that was the absolute truth.

  “But it meant more to you?” Teri questioned, bringing her pacing to a stop in front of him.

  “No…yes. You know. Maybe. I don’t know.” Dylan stalled. “He’s not from our world. He didn’t really get what we’re doing here.” Dylan motioned a hand between the two of them.