Read The Contract (Nightlong #1) for Free Online

name.
    “Yeah, oh yeah… I don’t get holidays do I? Because the boss doesn’t take holidays, so neither do I. Neither do I. I’m stuck in this prison with you aren’t I? Aren’t I? Admit it.”
    I must have hit a nerve because he turned his back on me and threw his glass through the air. Smashed pieces everywhere, I watched the velvety red liquid slide off the ivory surface of a kitchen cupboard. My heart popped my chest, thudding as I watched his suit jacket shake up and down with his shoulders. Hands in his hair, he said slowly, “I’m adding a new rule to the list. You are never to go near another man, do you hear me?”
    So, this was about jealousy?
    “Oh, come on! Cornish is gay!”
    Dante turned swiftly, hands in his hair, a wild look in his eyes. “I don’t fucking care if he’s a eunuch, he still has ten fingers and one fucking tongue and that’s eleven too many appendages for my liking! Stay away from him… and everyone else!”
    I laughed because I saw he was upset too and I wanted to goad him. “Ah, whatever. He only had eyes for you and your beautiful face.”
    I continued to laugh manically. I didn’t sound attractive and his expression turned stern.
    “What did you just say?”
    “He’s gay isn’t he?” I shrugged, and drank a few more sips of wine, at the same time grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl to open.
    “No, about me. What did you say?”
    “You’re beautiful,” I said, tearing open my orange.
    “You think–”
    I looked up and into his eyes. “Seriously, what is wrong with you tonight Dante? Don’t tell me you don’t realise you are.”
    Hands on hips, his chest stretched his shirt as he leaned forward with confusion in his eyes. “What are you saying? That I’m beautiful by other people’s standards… or you think I am. That I’m… I don’t understand. You told me I’m old. You told me I have battle scars… you told me I’m not… you said–”
    “I said, what?” I begged, plopping orange segments in my mouth.
    “You said I’m old.”
    “You are feckin’ old, doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.” I split the other half of my orange into segments and added, “You’re also obnoxious, egotistical, a bastard and a fetishist, annoying and downright disgusting sometimes, but you’re still beautiful. It’s just a term, don’t read anything into it.”
    “You’re impossible,” he barked, hands still on his hips.
    “Yeah, well Miss Impossible drank half a litre of vodka before you dragged me out into the cold night, so I’m going to bed.”
    I dragged myself off my stool but when I did, I felt woozy. He tried to help me regain my balance but I batted him off and rubbed my head.
    “Fresh air that’s done this, I can drink anything me,” I said, trying to blame him.
    I started walking but wobbled again so he picked me up in his arms, growling, “I’m getting you to bed whether you like it or not, Miss Impossible.”
    He stomped upstairs with me in his arms and my eyes were closed when I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered, “You’re very beautiful, Dante.”
    It was the last I remembered of that night.
     

Three
     
     
     
    I PEEKED ONE EYE OPEN and groaned. Light hurt. Everything hurt. How much did I have to drink? Wait… it was mixing drinks that did it. I would have known better if I hadn’t been caught off guard by everything that happened last night.
    Pulling the sheets up around my head, I groaned louder and found that beneath the covers, I was just in my undies.
    As my mind cleared of all the crazy drunken dreams that had terrorised me throughout the night, I remembered the smashed glass… and Roman… then him carrying me to bed, and asking about whether I thought he was beautiful… and asking about…
    I groaned even louder and shouted, “Gawd sake!”
    “Good morning. Reliving the highlights?”
    “What the–”
    I struggled from beneath the sheets and found Dante up and about, wearing jeans and a casual shirt.