Just Business

by Anna Zabo

  “E—”

  He waved Michael’s concern away with his glass. “I’ll be fine.” Once he could move on. What did I do? He looked into his water.

  “You love him.”

  The heart of the problem, straight from Michael’s mouth. “I did. I do.” Eli shook his head. “I’ll get over it. I got over you.” He looked up, because he had to with Michael. That would never cease to disconcert him, being the shorter man.

  Michael wore his exasperated look. “You know we’re here for you, too. If you need anything.”

  “I know.” And he did. “I do appreciate it. Truly.” Sam and Michael were the closest he had to a family. He caught Sam glancing over, the wavering expression. “You should get back to him. Tell him I’m fine.”

  “I’ll tell him we talked.” Michael gripped Eli’s shoulder again. “But I’m not going to lie to him.”

  Eli nodded and watched Michael return to Sam’s side and the joy that radiated between them. Eli set his water down then made his way to the balcony that had been left open for smokers.

  It was completely empty. No one in the company smoked, but that made it the perfect place to hide. He slid the door open and slipped out into the cold night. Snow danced in the air. Already, the cars and street were covered in a thin shimmer of white.

  The air cooled his lungs and blew about his face. It wasn’t supposed to storm tonight. Eli glanced up, but the sky was a uniform gray reflecting the lights below. Old fear settled into the back of his head, sending an ache to his spine and down to his shattered leg. He ignored it as best he could. This was Regent Square, not the North Hills. He was only a few miles from home. Even in the worst of weather, he could crawl back safely.

  Except that was exactly what Noah had said, all those years ago.

  Eli turned away from the snowfall—and came face-to-face with Justin on the other side of the glass door. Suddenly the air around him didn’t seem nearly as cold as the blood in his veins.

  Justin opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. “This seems familiar.”

  Eli would have stepped back, if he could have moved. “Not at all.” Because he had no power—didn’t want power here. Just wanted to . . . run.

  The snow fell harder.

  “Sam was looking for you.”

  “Michael already found me.”

  Justin didn’t move. “I’m surprised you don’t want me on my knees.”

  He did step back then. Why are you doing this to me? “No, I don’t. You don’t want to be there.”

  Justin’s snort was an ugly thing. “You’re a Dom.”

  Fuck that. “And a sadist. And a Jew. And a cripple.” He threw the last word like a cudgel. “And much more, besides.”

  Justin said nothing, but his chest heaved.

  “You say Dom like anyone with dominant tendencies is the same. I know you’re not stupid enough to believe that, Justin.” His name felt like ash in Eli’s throat.

  Ash was about the color of Justin’s skin, too. “Funny, I’m pretty sure you think me a flaming idiot, the way you treated me.”

  “The way I—?” His voice broke when the anger took over. “When did I ever mistreat you? I don’t do that shit.” Because it was horrible and hideous.

  Justin stepped forward and Eli’s back hit the edge of the balcony. “You expected everything from me. Expected me to be your whore.”

  Where the hell was this coming from? “No, I . . . never.” He didn’t take. He never took, not without a signal. Approval. “You’re mistaking me for someone else again.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.” Most certainly. “If you’d paid any attention at all, you’d know that!”

  “I paid plenty attention. Paid in so many ways, too.” They were inches apart now. Eli’s heart slammed against his chest. Fury and something else blazed in Justin. “The worst bit is that I still want you. After all you’ve done, I can’t get you out of my head.”

  All that he’d done? His spine hurt from the cold and the press of the balcony edge. “Please get out of my way, Justin.” He didn’t smell any alcohol, but he was willing to bet Justin was a few sheets to the wind.

  Rather than move, Justin reached up and touched Eli’s cheek. Tentative and gentle. It did not at all match the expression on Justin’s face. “I want to kiss you.”

  No, don’t. But that’s not what slipped out of Eli’s heart. “I won’t stop you.”

  Justin did, and Eli didn’t. Like the touch, the kiss was sweet and light and broke every bone in Eli’s body. He caught himself on the balcony edge and his cane clattered to the frosted floor.

  Justin pulled back, his eyes too wide and too wet. “Leave me alone.” He turned and left the balcony.

  No taste of alcohol. None.

  It’s me. I’m the problem. Only one solution. Eli found his footing and picked up his cane. He’d endure the rest of the party, like he’d promised Sam. It was the least he could do, since he was about to renege on their other agreement. Monday would be his last day at S. R. Anderson Consulting, even if it meant losing Sam and Michael, too.

  Because Justin needed to be whole, and that required Eli to be gone.

  You love him.

  More than you can possibly imagine, Michael.

  * * *

  By the end of the night, snow coated the roadways, enough that biking from Regent Square to Oakland would be suicidal. Justin shouldn’t have stayed so late, should have left when the first flakes fell. Shouldn’t have kissed Eli.

  No matter how much time passed, he still tasted Eli, felt the heat of his body, the press of his cock. Nothing had changed.

  He wasn’t going to apologize for what he’d said. And Eli wasn’t going to forgive him for having said it. This would have been easier had they just been fuckbuddies, if things hadn’t been so complicated. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Walking wasn’t going to be fun, but what choice did he have? He started up Braddock.

  “Wait, Justin!” Eli’s voice caught him and he looked back to see Eli limping quickly after him, cane in hand. “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “You can’t . . .” He caught up, took a breath. “You can’t walk home in this!” Long wool coat. Ever-present gloves. No hat, though. Snowflakes dotted his hair, white against the black curls.

  All Justin had was his suit jacket. “I really don’t have a choice.” He put his back to Eli and marched up the street—and slipped and fell.

  Shit. Way to prove Eli’s point. He struggled to his feet.

  “Just.” Anguish in his name. “Please.”

  He stopped, eyes stinging, heart pounding. Eli cared. That was the worst of it. Nothing Justin did made Eli stop caring. He pressed his lips together.

  A hand on his shoulder. Fingers under his chin lifting his face until he peered into Eli’s gray eyes. “Please stop.”

  “I can’t.” His heart would burst from the pressure squeezing it. If he stopped, he’d never be able to resist Eli. Never not want to be with him. He couldn’t be the submissive whore again, not even for Eli.

  “You can stop.” Quiet words, made even more silent by the snowfall and the empty street. “For a little bit. Let me drive you home. After that, hate me all you like, I don’t care. But let me see you safe tonight.” Eli let go.

  Like every other time, Justin missed Eli’s touch once it was gone. Seconds stretched out as snow fell all around them. Eli was right, of course. The man was so infuriatingly right that Justin couldn’t keep away.

  Eli’s shoulders fell and he stepped back. “I just want to see you safe.”

  Under Eli’s thumb, no doubt. Because safe to a Dom meant something entirely different to everyone else. But in this case it was a little ridiculous to think he could walk several miles in this weather. If Eli wanted to offer him a no-strings lift? “Fine.”

  The relief in Eli was palpable. “My car’s just up the street.”

  They walked in silence to the Audi. Eli let him into the car, star
ted, it and dusted off all the windows. When he settled into the driver’s seat, he was frosted in snow, ruddy-cheeked, and beautiful.

  Fuck. Justin stared at the car in front of them. This was a bad idea. He’d walked away once. But a second time? Wasn’t sure he had enough willpower.

  At least Eli was a man of his word. If he said he’d take Justin home, he would. If it had been Francis, all bets would have been off.

  Eli eased the car out onto Braddock Avenue. The car slipped a bit, even with the all-wheel drive, but they moved up the road. They even managed the turn onto Forbes without sliding much. The roads were shit, though, and getting worse. They never plowed in the city when they should, and while the streets were fairly flat here by Pittsburgh standards . . . they weren’t entirely. Getting to and from Oakland in this weather, where there were hills? Justin bit his lip and glanced at Eli.

  Pale and strained. Wide-eyed. In control, but behind that was a hint of wild panic and terror.

  Shit. Shit. Justin knew that look. He’d seen it in Mercy when she fought against the memories of war.

  The car accident. He didn’t know a thing about it, just that it had killed Eli’s high school boyfriend and crushed Eli’s leg. But if he had to guess—he’d lay odds it had happened on a snowy night like this one.

  Oh hell.

  Of course Eli wanted to see him safely home, especially if what Justin suspected was true. But who would make sure Eli made it home? Because after this drive . . . He stole another glance at Eli. Fraying edges. White knuckles.

  This was a horrible idea. No way they were making it to Oakland, unless the streets miraculously cleared up.

  No such luck. The snow fell harder.

  They crept down Forbes Avenue, the car occasionally wavering in what should have been a lane had there been anything but white in front of them. At least there was no one else on the road. Eli hissed a few times when the car slipped—he was as pale as the scene in front of them, every muscle bunched, his face pulled sharp into fear. Justin nearly asked if Eli wanted him to drive, but he doubted Eli would let anyone take control now. If they stopped the car, they might not get it moving again, anyway.

  They made it to the edge of Squirrel Hill and thankfully, the lights were green straight through the business district, up until Murray Avenue. A red light halted them there and Eli slumped in the seat, chest heaving.

  “Halfway there.”

  “I know.” Tight words. Breathless. No anger, just unfathomable weariness. And terror—oh God, the terror in Eli. What Justin wouldn’t do to lift that weight from Eli’s shoulders, tell him it would be okay, that they would make it. Justin’s eyes stung. Wouldn’t work. He’d never been able to do anything for Mercy, couldn’t make her demons vanish. Just . . . support her. That’s what he’d done when he’d finally escaped Francis.

  The light turned green and they moved forward again. Wightman was next—Eli’s street. Another light . . . this one red as well. They slowed, but not enough.

  Shit. Cross traffic. A lone car inching its way across Wightman and they weren’t slowing enough. Oh my God.

  The car shook—the antilock breaks kicking in. A thin cry from Eli. The Audi kept moving.

  They were so fucked. Justin tensed against the door, the seat, everything. Eli let out a sharp curse that wasn’t English and swung the wheel.

  The car spun, crossing the intersection. A flash of the terrified face of the other driver as the cars slipped past each other. So close. Bright red lips and nails. Dark hair. Ashen skin.

  She moved away . . . and they continued to spin . . . snow-covered trees, houses, parked cars all moving past in a pantomime of slow motion. Horrible. Beautiful. They banged up against the curb on the opposite side of Forbes and lurched to a stop. The Audi’s engine stuttered and died.

  Holy fuck. They were alive. In one piece. Pointed in the opposite direction. Justin took several gulps of air and tried to calm the pounding of his heart and throbbing of his head. Eli was . . .

  Eli trembled in his seat. Eyes wide and unseeing. So pale he looked gray. Lips pulled away in half a cry. Shallow breaths.

  Lost. Totally lost. Still spinning. Still stuck in that horrible moment. Like Mercy.

  “Eli?”

  A shudder. Nothing else.

  “Eli, we’re okay.”

  Still nothing.

  “Eli,” he barked. “Look at me.”

  Eyes flickered and focused. Eli turned his head, still haunted—but present. “Justin?”

  “Yeah. It’s Justin. I’m safe. You’re safe. We didn’t hit anything—just the curb.”

  Eli turned back to the road, but didn’t speak. Didn’t relax. Still trembled.

  “We’re kind of pointing the wrong way.” Justin paused. “But maybe that’s better.” Because there was no way in hell they were making it to Oakland tonight. Not in this weather. Not down the hill that Forbes turned into, and absolutely not with Eli caught up in a flashback. They needed to get him home. Now.

  “Let’s go to your place. We’re close.” Hell, Wightman was right there. Three blocks and they’d be in Eli’s driveway.

  “Yes.” Only that from Eli and no more. Distant. Hard. Eli examined the car for a moment in an almost clinical way, put it into park, turned it over, and shifted back into drive. They crept forward—a green light for them this time—and turned. Three blocks and another turn put them in Eli’s driveway.

  Justin had never been so glad to see the house he swore he’d never return to.

  Eli put the car into park, set the emergency brake, and dropped his face into his hands. The trembling turned to shaking, with a thin wail that tore Justin’s heart in half.

  Shit. He hit the ignition button and popped the key from its slot. Thankfully, the house keys were attached. “Eli, let’s go inside.”

  Eli’s chest heaved, his breath came in stutters and short fits. Silence now.

  That wasn’t good. None of this was good. Justin undid his belt and reached over and released Eli’s, too, before crawling out of the car.

  No reaction when he opened the driver’s door, even though the wind blew flakes all around. Eli still held his head in his hands.

  “Eli?”

  “Leave me alone.” Thin words. A whisper that sounded nothing like the man he knew.

  “I will, once you’re in the house. But I need you to come into the house.”

  He lifted his head. “I don’t want the house. I don’t want any of this. It’s all . . . blood and ash.”

  This wasn’t working. At all. “Eli, do you want me to be safe?”

  Eli started and looked over. “Justin?” Confusion—mixed with relief.

  “Yeah. It’s me.” He offered his hand. “Do you want me to be safe?”

  The answer was a half a sob that stabbed into Justin’s soul. “Always. It’s the only thing I want.”

  Justin throat tightened. “Then come inside.”

  Eli grasped Justin’s hand and he pulled Eli up out of the car and into his arms. Unsteady, shaking Eli.

  “I’m sorry.” Eli’s breathless words in Justin’s ear. “I can’t stop seeing them.”

  Justin pushed the car door shut and half walked, half carried Eli to the house. “I know.” He unlocked the door, got them both inside, and peeled off Eli’s coat and tuxedo jacket. Dropped them on the bench. His own suit coat followed. “You’re all right. I’m fine. No one was hurt.” Justin toed off his shoes. “How about we go sit down on the couch?”

  Eli didn’t argue, didn’t protest when Justin led him to the living room sectional. Lavi took off when Eli sank down in the middle of the L, eyes still wide and distant. “It won’t go away. It usually goes away by now.” He peered up at Justin. “I’m so sorry—whatever I did.” He whispered, “Are you even here?”

  Words like fists to his chest. Justin ignored the pain. Instead, he tugged Eli’s shoes off and swung his legs up onto the couch. “I’m here. You’re not alone.” Blanket—that always helped Mercy: the security of b
eing wrapped up in something. He pulled a throw from the back of the couch and laid it over Eli.

  Eli clutched at the blanket and rolled away from Justin. “I can’t . . . I know you don’t want to be here.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. “It’s fine.”

  Eli tugged the blanket over his head. Cut off from the world.

  Justin slumped on the floor, his back against the couch, mirroring Eli. He did want to be here. Desperately. Wanted to be Eli’s, but that meant not being his own. Mercy needed him. So did his family. And yet . . . He stared at Eli’s blanket-covered back. Eli needed him, too.

  Eli as the wealthy, sadistic, controlling Dom didn’t mesh with the man huddled under the blanket on the couch. Or the one who had been at the office the past few weeks. Or any version of Eli. Justin’s stomach felt like stone. How hard had be been shoving Eli into a box that didn’t fit him? “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Booze?”

  Eli rolled back, his head framed by the blanket. Rainbow colors. Crochet. “Tea. There’s—” Eli took a breath, sat up, and peered down at Justin, eyes more clear than they’d been since the start of the drive. “There’s valerian root tea in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”

  “I can do that.” Justin climbed to his feet and headed into the kitchen.

  “Use the electric kettle for the water, not the microwave.”

  So very Eli. The tightness in Justin’s chest eased a bit. He found the tea, a mug, and set the kettle. A few minutes later, he handed a brimming mug to Eli. “Careful, it’s hot.”

  Eli raised an eyebrow. “I hope so.” He took a sip and leaned back against the cushions.

  The couch seemed a better idea than the floor. There was plenty of room on the L-shaped sectional. He wouldn’t be crowding Eli. Or getting too close. “How are you feeling?”

  He shrugged. “Better. More present.” Another sip of tea. “It hasn’t been this bad in a very long time.”

  “Well, considering what almost happened . . .”

  A chuckle. Eli sounded more and more like . . . Eli. “To be honest, I don’t remember. Not . . . clearly.” He studied the cup before he drank more. “I know the car wasn’t stopping and there was another in the intersection and we were going to hit . . . and then I was here.” He shook his head. “That’s the worst part. I can’t even remember the present.”