Page 18 of Catching a Con Man

I laughed quietly. “Yes, Cap’n.” After a couple of seconds of silence, where Tyler’s breathing slowed, I spoke quietly. “We’ve still got lots to talk about, haven’t we?”

“Tomorrow,” said Tyler. “If this bed makes me sleep half as good as I think it might, I’ll have all the energy in the world to talk to you. Then you can decide if you hate me.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I asked.

“S’up to you. The bed is big enough for the two of us.”

“Good night then, Tyler Bevan,” I whispered. “But you’ll have to do a hell of a lot to get me to hate you.”

“Good night, Addison Crane.”

Tyler

Istretched out after maybe the best sleep of my life, and only remembered where I was when my hand connected with a solid, furry chest. I cracked my eyes open. It was pretty dark in the massive room, with light just filtering through windows that seemed tinted to stop the glare of the snow in sunlight. I hadn’t noticed the night before, but there seemed to be a little private veranda outside of the bedroom, nestled against the stone face of the mountains. It seemed odd to have so many windows facing dark stone, but Holden was so notoriously known for being secretive that it didn’t surprise me.

Ade was snoring quietly next to me, and I took the opportunity to really get a look in where I hadn’t managed to before. His face was more relaxed in sleep, like the burdens of his billions relaxed as he dreamed. His body was exactly as fit and toned as it had felt under the layers of suit, and his caramel-brown hair was a mess on the white pillow. That caramel-brown hair and stubble continued down his body. It was obvious he groomed himself, but it was all trimmed back rather than stripped away completely. I let my eyes wander downward, where his morning wood was straining at the confines of his black Chanel boxer-briefs.

I was tempted, just for a second, to reach out and touch him. If I woke him with a touch, would he reciprocate? I knew the answer to that. The chemistry fizzling between us hadn’t been dampened by last night’s revelations. In fact, stripping down bare both figuratively and literally had made me feel like the barriers that were up between us had been taken down, and whatever resistance I’d been harbouring toward being attracted to someone who went so against my morals was starting to slip. Because Ade wasn’t like anyone I’d taken from before. He was kind, and smart, and conscientious. And he made me want to be a better man.

I swung my legs off the bed and shuffled across the deep-pile carpet to the door. I was desperate to pee, and had no idea where I’d find a bathroom in this massive house. I didn’t want to wake Ade to ask, so I opened the door and peered down the corridor. On the floor in front of the door two little piles had been laid down - grey dressing gowns, slippers, and toothbrushes. I put on the fluffy dressing gown and slippers and put the toothbrush in one of the pockets. Every door along the corridor looked identical, with no indication any of them led to a toilet. Instead, I carefully walked down the precarious metal stairs.

Downstairs was brighter and airier than upstairs, like some rich interior designer had designed one to be for sleeping and one for waking up and being productive. The fire had been lit in one corner and was filling the room with warmth.

I looked around the space, desperately hoping to find some indication of where I could pee. Would I have to run outside and pee in the snow? I hopped from foot to foot as the need to pee grew the more I thought about it.

“Behind the kitchen,” said a voice. I looked around and saw a hand waving from the sofa, though I couldn’t see its owner. It pointed to the kitchen, and I saw a door that led further into the house.

“Thank you,” I whispered, and ran into the fanciest bathroom I’d ever seen to relieve myself. The whole place was tiled in black marble, and even the bath seemed to be carved out of one big solid chunk of marble. I washed my hands and dried them in a towel that felt like I was touching heaven before heading back out.

The owner of the disembodied hand was sat up on the sofa now, and I looked at him for a second before he realised I was back in the room. He was wearing an orange dressing gown that seemed colour-matched to the sofa, and if I had to guess I’d have said he was about 60 years old, though his hair was dyed jet black and I could tell he’d had some tightening around the eyes and jaw at some point.

He looked up and over at me. “Be a darling and grab us a cuppa, will you?”

“Uh…”

“Behind you.” The man flicked his hand dismissively. On the kitchen counter were two glass cups, and a jug of filter coffee warming on a stand. I poured us each a cup and carried them over gingerly, feeling like if I spilled a drop on the mahogany flooring or velvet sofa I’d be billed for millions.

I passed him the cup of coffee and gingerly sat on the corner of the sofa. He moved his legs to give me more space, and I slid down to sit next to him. It still felt awkward, like I’d intruded on some inner sanctum. Which, looking at how secluded this complex was, was probably exactly it.

“I’m Michael, by the way,” he said after a second.

“Tyler.”

“And you’re Addison Junior’s…friend? Business partner? Lover?” he asked, leaning forward with his cup of coffee precariously balanced on one knee.

“Something like that,” I muttered.

“Hm. Tough nut to crack. I’m Holden’s husband.”

“Husband?!” I said incredulously, trying to reel it in immediately. “I mean…I never knew he had a husband.”

“Yes, and we liked to keep it that way,” he said. “I was ten years younger than him and his secretary, it was simplyinappropriate.” He accentuated the last word with air quotes. “Oh, that and the fat we’re a pair of raging homosexuals. Rich boys marry rich girls, don’t you know. And have lots of babies who go on to make even more money. And the cycle continues.”

“I…see,” I said. “How long…have you been married?”

“Unofficially? Since about 1984. That’s when Holden gave me equal access to all his accounts, put a trust fund in place to make sure I was well looked after if anything were to happen to him. Officially, gay marriage was legalised here last year, so we quietly tied the knot. Just to make sure I was protected. Though he’s only ten years older than me, so I don’t see why I won’t die first.”

“I didn’t see any record of marriage when I…” I tailed off, realising what I’d been about to say.

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