Scott sat relaxed on the butter soft, brown leather settee. He looked down at Rick’s dark head bobbing up and down between his spread thighs. His saliva-slick cock disappeared and reappeared between his companion’s glistening, stretched lips. Scott laid a hand on the back of Rick’s neck to encourage Rick to move faster, and he thrust up in pleasure. He was close, so very close. As long as Rick kept up the exquisite suction, Scott didn’t give a damn about the added cost of Rick’s flight from London to Cardiff. As far as Scott was concerned, his companion was worth every penny.
“Yeah, feels good.” Tension built, the ball-tightening, thigh-clenching sensation just before...
His phone went off.
At first, he ignored the intrusive sound and gave Rick a nudge to continue, intending to pick up where he left off. Unfortunately, despite Rick’s best efforts, the incessant ringing ruined the mood. He let out an exaggerated sigh. The moment had passed and it wasn’t going to happen.
Resigned, he sat up and tapped Rick on the shoulder. “I need to answer that.”
Rick wiped the back of his hand across his wet lips and chin and turned his back to give the illusion of privacy. Scott reached towards the large glass and chrome coffee table. The phone stopped ringing as Scott picked it up.
“Damn,” he muttered. The missed call was from work. He had no need to look at the display. No one would dare contact him outside of work hours on his business phone unless there was an emergency. The phone beeped before he could return the call. Concerned, he pressed the scroll button and read the short, concise text message. "Fuck!"
Scott slumped back in his seat. He’d anticipated a few days to himself to settle in after the move from London to Cardiff. Now, he’d have to deal with a major problem at work and all before officially starting in his new position.
“Rick.” Scott leant forward and squeezed Rick’s shoulder to get his attention. “I have to go to the office. I’ve no idea how long I’ll be. If you can’t get a flight back to London tonight, book into a hotel and charge the expense to my Midnight account.”
Disappointment flashed across Rick’s handsome face. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?” Rick said as he slid a hand teasingly up the inside of Scott’s bare thigh.
Regret softened Scott's words. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Scott enjoyed the provocative display Rick put on as he crawled to retrieve their hastily discarded clothes, making damn sure Scott got a good view of his bare ass. What a waste! Scott dressed quickly and then placed a call to the concierge.
“Good evening, Edwards. Can you arrange to have the Jeep brought round and a taxi for my
guest? He’ll be down shortly.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Owen.”
“Thank you, Edwards.” Scott ended the call and turned back to Rick. “Here.” Scott withdrew
a twenty from his wallet for the fare. “A taxi will be here as soon as Edwards can arrange
one.”
With a hand to the small of Rick's back, Scott escorted him out the front door and into the
lift. Upon returning to the apartment, he plucked his keys from the blue and silver Monart
glass bowl by the door and slipped them into his coat. The mirror above the hall table
confirmed not a hair on his head was out of place.
After locking the front door, he glanced at the lift. Too impatient to wait, he ran down the
two flights of stairs to the lobby. Edwards’ nod acknowledged Rick`s departure. He'd already
discovered Edwards was loyal and discreet. Scott would make a point to slip a little extra into Edwards' Christmas card.
Scott paced and glanced repeatedly out the entry door until his black Grand Cherokee
arrived, valet at the wheel. He thanked Edwards then pulled up his hood. The frigid wind
took his breath away when he exited the building. The earlier light snow was now a raging
storm; the Welsh winter a vast difference from his beloved London. Scott suspected that in a
few hours the roads would be impassable. Only a fool would venture out on a night like this.
Guess that makes me all kinds of a fool.
The snowy conditions made the thirty-minute drive to the office a nightmare. Even the luxury
and safety features afforded him by the top-of-the-range Jeep could not compete with the
worsening weather. Hunched forward, Scott squinted through the screen. Snow now covered
all the signs and narrowed the usable road surface to a single lane. Thankfully, this part of
Cardiff was well lit at night and not too busy. He turned on to Greyfriars Road and the
Capital Tower complex loomed ahead. By the time he arrived, Scott had the start of a tension
headache and he wasn’t in the best of moods.
The moment he stopped, Peter Hall, his head of Security, opened the door and held an
umbrella over his head.
“What can you tell me?” Scott demanded as they trudged through the snow towards the main
entrance of Owen Development.
“It’s a bit awkward, sir. The man we detained is Connor Murphy, Mr. Owen Senior’s personal assistant.” Peter held the door open.
Stunned by the revelation, Scott’s footsteps faltered momentarily. Damn! The old man would
have a fit. Once inside, a welcome blast of warm air beat back the cold. Scott brushed the
melting snowflakes from his clothes and rubbed his hands together to warm them.
“Are you sure there’s no mistake?” Scott needed to be certain. His father was ill and didn’t
need the additional stress of finding out his personal assistant had tried to steal from him. It was no secret that his father protected Connor to the point of obsession.
“No, sir, I’m afraid not. We caught him red-handed.”
Peter pushed the ‘up’ button for the lift and stepped back as the doors opened to allow Scott
to enter first. A few moments later, they arrived on the fifteenth floor. Exiting the lift, Scott could see the heavily carved, double oak doors to the executive suite stood open.
“Have you contacted my father?”
“No, sir. I'm your head of security now, although I did consider it."
I bet you did, Scott thought uncharitably.
“Where is Murphy? Have you questioned him?” Scott asked as they continued towards the office suite.
“No, sir. He’s been restrained in your office.”
Scott paused, eager for a first glimpse of his father’s personal assistant. He eased the door
open slightly and peered through the gap. Scott’s breath caught in his lungs. If ever an image inspired instant lust, Scott was looking right at it. For some strange reason, he’d always shied away from blonds, but not this one, it seemed. Connor Murphy pushed all his buttons. Young and fit, though most of the man's upper body was hidden beneath the bulky hoodie. High cheekbones, neat nose, and full red lips. Oblivious to the appraisal, the object of Scott's lustful thoughts hunched forward in a guest chair, elbows on his knees, bound wrists dangling between his spread thighs.
“Okay, Peter. I’ll take it from here. Turn off the monitors in my office.” His father valued his own privacy, although he had no qualms about monitoring others.
“Yes, sir, right away.”

****

Fuck! Connor cursed his luck. Security had contacted Scott Owen instead of Scott's father.
Used to dealing with Gordon, Connor only had Scott’s reputation to go by. If the rumours
were true, he was ruthless and ambitious.
Connor caught his pale-faced reflection in the silver mirror behind the desk. After all these
years of waiting, the perfect opportunity finally presented itself. Exhausted upon his return
from Paris, Gordon had uncharacteristically deposited the contents of his briefcase in the
office safe instead of taking them to his home as he normally did. Connor had discovered the
hard way that someone had installed a state-of-the-art motion detector sometime during their
five-day trip.
The plastic restraints binding his wrists together cut into Connor’s flesh. The guards
snickered as they glanced his way. Cornered for the time being, he nervously bit his bottom
lip, curious where their loyalty lay—with Gordon or Scott Owen.
He closed his eyes and read the guards’ thoughts. They were crude, snide comments about
the boss’s boy-toy. No doubt both had witnessed Connor working a room at Gordon’s behest:
a smile here, a whisper there, an intimate touch of a well-placed hand. Rumours of a
relationship with Gordon ran the gamut from lover to illegitimate son.
The reality was very different.
Connor only wanted to retrieve what was rightfully his. Gordon’s continual threat loomed
over his head. Even ill and ageing, the man was a force to be reckoned with. Few were keen
to challenge him—but what of his son?
At the click of the door latch, Connor opened his eyes and held his breath. Scott had matured. No longer a gangly youth, he sported one of the most handsome faces Connor had seen outside of a magazine, topped off by short, blond hair.
With a single nod of Scott’s head, the guards departed. Scott strode forward, removed his jacket, and tossed it onto the desk. From Connor’s perspective, Scott was a giant, at least six-foot-three. Scott stared down at him before those full lips parted. Connor’s face flamed. He had witnessed the same predatory leer on the faces of wealthy, powerful men too many times. Off balance, he forced himself to his feet, only to have Scott shove him back down.
“Sit down!” Scott braced his hands on the arms of the chair. Connor leaned back, his personal
space invaded. “I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing in my office at...” he
glanced at his wristwatch, “fucking midnight?”
“I was taking a midnight stroll.” Connor grinned.
Scott glared at him. The spicy scent of cologne drifted between them as Scott loomed over him. Scott’s knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. Connor
brushed his hand against Scott’s. The slightest contact would allow him to read Scott’s
thoughts. Connor closed his eyes. Nothing. He clenched his eyes tighter. He was unable to
break through the barrier, something he hadn’t anticipated.
“You think this is funny?” Scott’s expression hardened. “If that’s the way you want to play,
then you leave me no option.” He pushed off the chair, reached across the desk, and pressed
the intercom. “Peter, I want the number for the local police station.”
“There’s no need, sir. Number ten on your direct dial.”
Scott cut Peter off. “Last chance, Murphy.”
A night in a police cell would be hell, in more ways than one. Connor's stomach knotted as
the walls of Scott’s office closed in on him, but they couldn’t compare to the claustrophobic
feel of being trapped in a tiny cell. Connor swallowed hard as he studied Scott’s face. “You
wouldn’t believe me. You don’t care about the truth.”
With a look of disbelief, Scott shook his head. ”You don’t know me, yet you feel you have the right to question my integrity?”
“Your father is a liar and a thief,” Connor spat out.
“I’m not my father,” Scott stated vehemently.
Connor flinched at Scott’s cold, dispassionate tone. He needed a way out of this mess, now.
“My father has more money than he knows what to do with. He can buy anything or anyone.
So I think it highly improbable he would resort to stealing from you,” Scott scoffed.
“The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.” Connor glared at Scott. “I don’t give a fuck about
your money. Call your father; get him down here. He’s not going to let you call the police.”
Scott walked behind him and leaned in close, lips a hair’s breadth from Connor’s ear. “Nice
try, but you’re not very observant, are you? My name is on the door, and this is now my
office. Matters of security and the running of the business are now my concern, not my
father’s.”
Connor shuddered at the warm breath on his neck. “Your father still owns the corporation.
Are you prepared for the consequences? You’ll be running errands and delivering coffee.”
Behind him Scott laughed. “I don’t think so. No one likes a thief, Connor. My father will
have no choice but to make an example of you. Bearing in mind your history, I could see
your... talents earning you an easy ride. You should have thought of the consequences before
you repaid my father’s generosity by breaking into my office and trying to steal from him.”
“My history? Fuck you!” Connor snapped. Who the hell did Scott think he was? “You don’t
know shit about me. Your father doesn’t have a generous bone in his body, and you know it.
I told you, I was only after what’s mine.” Connor inclined his head towards the open safe.
“There’s a small black box. Inside, on a silver chain, is a crystal, a piece of quartz, not worth anything to you.” Heart pounding, Connor leant forward in his chair. Could it be, after all these years of misery, he would finally have his crystal, his freedom?
Scott crossed to the safe and removed the black, leather jewellery box. He lifted the lid and
picked up the thin chain between his thumb and forefinger. Connor’s jaw dropped, dread washed over him, and he closed his eyes. That wasn't his crystal. Although beautiful and priceless, there was no life in the gem. The exquisitely cut and faceted stone was no ordinary quartz, and by Scott’s expression, he'd realised it as well. He dangled the parkling diamond in front of Connor’s face.
“Not worth anything? I beg to differ.”
“No!” Connor shot to his feet. Distraught, he grasped his head, his bound wrists limiting his
movement. “Seven years servitude isn’t enough?” His voice quavered with despair. “I swear I’ve never seen that damn thing before.” He shook his head. “The bastard pulled a switch—he planned this all along.”
Scott returned the necklace to the safe. “You call the salary you’re earning servitude? There
are people living on the streets who would cut off their right arm to be where you are now.”
With a snort of disgust, Scott continued, “You leave me no choice.” He pinched the bridge of
his nose. “I’m going to hand you over to my Head of Security while we wait for the police.”
“Go ahead, do what you have to.” Connor shrugged, hoping his nerves didn't betray him. He
took a gamble. “Perhaps I’ll confess, or let slip about the bribes paid to pass controversial
plans. A little scandal will do the company good. I’m sure the Board of Directors and
shareholders won’t mind. And your father...well, let’s say, I know where the proverbial
bodies are buried. Remember, Mr. Owen, I warned you. Daddy is not going to be happy. Whatever happens to me will be on your head.”
“No, Murphy, you brought this on yourself. You have a good job and a nice apartment, yet
you chose to augment your wages by stealing from my father while he was ill. As for your
threats,” Scott once again took up position in front of Connor, “I’ll let you in on a little
secret, Murphy. Your threats mean nothing, whereas mine and my father’s do. I would think
very carefully before threatening us again. Anyway, with your face and looks... that mouth...
I could see you getting by inside without too much trouble, and even after you are released.”
The full implication of Scott’s words registered, or rather slapped him in the face as Scott
glanced from Connor’s mouth to his groin and very slowly back to his face.
“Would you consider other options?” Connor struggled to maintain his composure, repulsed
by his own suggestion.
Scott cocked his head to the side, assessing him. “What are you offering?”
“Only what you see.” Connor hung his head in humiliation. “What guarantee do I have you
won’t call the police?”
“None.” Scott perched on the edge of his desk. “Sounds like you’ve done this before. Did
you have a similar arrangement with my father when he hired you?”
Connor shuddered in disgust. “Your father? God, no. I’d never let him touch me, regardless
of what you think or may have heard.”
“Then I guess it depends how good you are, how,” Scott quirked an eyebrow, “convincing.”
Scott pushed off the desk and took a couple of steps, his approach slow. He trailed a fingertip down the side of Connor’s face and across his bottom lip.
Connor trembled at the intimate touch. Scott would use him and then what? On the surface, a
night or two in Scott’s bed was preferable to the local police station. If he could get his hands free, Connor might even be able to get out of his current predicament.
“Don’t you want to see the merchandise?” A quiver of anticipation ran through him. He held his breath as he offered his hands for Scott to cut the ties.