Page 55 of The Chameleon

Matteo turned the phone toward Ares and tried not to laugh at the confused look on his face.

“What am I looking at?” Ares tilted his head to the side, trying to put together the pieces he was seeing.

“Apparently, one of our dancers slipped on stage and ended up with his butthole in a customer’s face. This is what happens when you leave a bunch of man-children to fend for themselves.”

A boisterous laugh escaped Ares’s lips. It was one of those guttural laughs that came from deep within.

“Judging by the gigantic smile on the old dude’s face, I’m pretty sure he didn’t mind tasting the boy’s insides.”

“You’re such a pig,” Matteo grumbled, slapping the man on his arm.

He quickly fired off a text to Diesel to see how the dancer was doing and asked if they comped the customer his drinks. Matteo would call the customer later in the day to make sure thereweren’t any issues and to apologize profusely for the accidental rim job.

A knock at the door caught Matteo’s attention.

“You expecting someone?”

“Yeah, be back in a sec,” Ares huffed, tossing his phone into his jeans and taking off down the hallway.

Two minutes later, Ares reappeared, holding two black garment bags.

“Here. Go shower and change. I’m taking you out.” Ares passed Matteo one of the bags and tossed the second one over the kitchen chair.

“Wh-what?” Matteo had no idea what the man was up to but couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies suddenly taking up residence within his gut. He liked surprises, especially when they were directed at him.

“Go! The car will be here in thirty minutes to pick us up,” Ares shouted, giving Matteo a mischievous grin.

Jumping up from the couch a little faster than he intended, Matteo rushed past the man he loved to hate and disappeared into the bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, Matteo was showered, dressed, and slicking back his hair. He stared at himself in the mirror, double-checking that every hair in his perfectly manicured beard was neatly aligned.

“Damn, you look good. Tom Ford suits you,” a husky voice noted from the open doorway.

Ares was staring at him like a lion would an injured gazelle.

Fuck, his dick was beginning to press against his zipper.

“Thanks. It’s perfectly tailored and everything.” Matteo was secretly impressed. The man had remembered his measurements.

Smirking, Ares nodded over his shoulder. “Come, the car’s here.”

Taking one last glance in the mirror, Matteo adjusted his vest, straightening out the expensive material. Given the sweet gesture, Matteo could at least make sure that he looked smoking hot for the man who was escorting him out tonight.

More butterflies played in his gut.

An hour and a half later, their car pulled up to an old-fashioned theatre located in the cultural heart of Barcelona.

Ares opened Matteo’s car door and held it open while Matteo stepped out, gasping at the sight of the white and gray clay building. The building had to be at least one hundred and fifty years old, refurbished and fixed up, while still maintaining that authentic Spanish culture Matteo had come to love.

“A flamenco show?” Matteo asked, glancing at the poster announcing tonight’s performance.

“Come.” Ares smiled, taking Matteo’s hand and pulling him up the stairs.

Wow, how times had changed. If this had been fifteen years ago, Ares would have been walking two steps ahead of Matteo, doing everything he could to avoid any public displays of affection. It appeared that time had softened Ares’s closeted tendencies.

Inside the theatre, twenty elegantly set tables waited, covered in scarlet-red linens on a solid black backdrop. Tea lights provided just enough lighting for guests to enjoy the six-course meal, which consisted of some of the most mouthwatering dishes Matteo had ever tasted.

Cutting into his steak, Matteo glanced up at Ares, who was busy watching a man across the room scoop an oyster into his mouth. Ares shuddered as the man shoveled the shellfish into his mouth before swallowing it down with a brief jerk of his neck. It reminded Matteo of how a pelican might swallow a fish.

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