Page 25 of Mutual Desire

Reluctantly, Damien released his hold, feeling a pang of regret as Craig finished getting ready. They shared a long kiss goodbye, and as soon as Craig left, Damien flopped back onto the bed. The white sheet draped over his naked body felt cold without Craig’s warmth beside him.

He needed to shower, to wash away the remnants of their passionate encounter, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Nabokov. It was pathetic. Was he obsessed? No, it couldn’t be that. Intrigued, maybe. He hoped that whatever fascination he had for Nabokov would fade with time—perhaps even by tomorrow.

His phone vibrated on the bedside table, snapping him from his Nabokov-induced reverie. A text from Nick appeared on the screen.

We're eating together tomorrow.

Damien’s response was swift and blunt.

No.

Barely a heartbeat later, his phone rang. Of course, it was Nick.

“I’m gonna call you back, Nicolas. I need to shower,” Damien said, his voice flat.

“Since when do you shower, Clarke? Monthly ritual?”

Damien rolled his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable headache that this conversation would bring. “Just tell me what you want before I hang up.”

Nick’s light laugh echoed in Damien’s ear. “Geez, why so grumpy, Clarke? I didn’t mean to interrupt your—”

“Tell me what you have to say,” Damien interjected.

“Pull up at my work tomorrow. I’ll feed you,” Nick announced.

The mention of Nick’s workplace sent an uncomfortable flutter through Damien’s stomach.What the actual fuck?

“I can’t, Nicolas. I need to take my car to the garage,” Damien said, his voice strained.

“It won’t take all day, anyway,” Nick reassured him.

“It might, and I might have to leave the car there,” Damien replied, frustration creeping in.

“Just take an Uber back,” Nick suggested.

Damien huffed, “I’ll just fly there instead.”

“Even better!” Nick’s amusement was palpable.

“Listen, if there’s any update, I’ll give you a call, okay?” Damien said, trying to sidestep the issue.

“Yeah, sure,” Nick said, though it lacked conviction.

Before Damien could respond, Nick hung up. He shook his head, exasperated. Nick had a unique talent for triggering headaches.

After showering, Damien crawled back into bed, exhaustion weighing him down. He turned the television on low and felt a need to investigate Nabokov. If he could understand the source of this infatuation, maybe he could suppress it and get some sleep. But as he opened the Google app, curiosity gnawed at him.

He typed in Nabokov’s company name, landing on a Wikipedia page, revealing billionaire Alexander Nicolai Nabokov as the CEO.

Alexander.

Just knowing his first name sent a ripple of something unsettling through Damien. He pressed on, typing in Nabokov’s full name and switching to images. The results were limited, and the few photos he found were of Nabokov with beautiful women—one blonde in particular, strikingly gorgeous.

Was Nabokov still involved with any of these women?

A wave of disappointment washed over him as he closed his phone, his mood souring further. He switched off the TV and shut his eyes, but sleep eluded him. Thoughts of Nabokov replayed in his mind, each detail of the images etched in his memory. This late-night research was a terrible idea; now, all he could think about was Nabokov, a thought he wished he could banish.When he finally drifted off, it was two hours later.

The next day, Damien woke to the familiar sound of Craig’s soft breathing beside him. For a while, he just lay there, watching Craig sleep, running his fingers through his messy brown hair. It felt grounding, reassuring, but the lingering anxiety over seeing Nick—and the possibility of encountering Nabokov—was impossible to ignore. He headed to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. As he measured out the ingredients for pancakes, Damien resolved to call the garage and make an appointment.

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