Page 104 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Hi. My name’s Devan Smith. I’m interested in renting the two-bed property at Shennan Sands. One thousand four hundred a week. Is it currently available?”
“It is, but how long would you want to rent it for? The shortest period is one month.”
“That would be perfect.”
“Great. Are you in the area? Can you come to the office?”
“We’re about ten minutes away.”
“See you soon.”
Jonty unplugged his phone, slotted it into his pocket, and they set off on foot.
Thirty minutes later, Devan had signed the agreement, proved who he was, handed over his credit card, and now had the keys to the property in his pocket along with the address. He checked the time. “Where can we buy you a suit?”
Jonty widened his eyes. “We?”
“It’s my fault Ravi ruined yours.”
“I’m not going to let you pay—and why do I need a suit?”
“Because you look hot in one.”
“I’m going to pay,” Jonty croaked.
Devan knew when to step back. Flaunting his wealth in front of Jonty was not going to impress him. Jonty was the opposite of Ravi, who loved Devan to spend money on him. Jonty led him to a small men’s clothing shop. The bell rang when they went inside.
A guy younger than Jonty with a mop of curly hair and a lot of freckles smiled at them from behind the counter. “Can I help you?”
“I need a suit,” Jonty said. “Pink or purple.”
Devan laughed. The sales assistant gawped.
“He’s colour-blind. Blue or grey,” Devan said.
There was a choice of four in Jonty’s size, which was quickly whittled down to one. Pale grey and Jonty looked so hot in it, even with his T-shirt underneath the jacket, that the breath caught in Devan’s throat and his cock perked up.
“Does my bum look big in this?” Jonty asked.
“No.”
“Damn.”
Devan spotted the assistant smiling.
“Is it washable?” Jonty asked.
“Wa…wa…no.” The assistant’s smile had gone.
Jonty turned to Devan and pouted. “We’ll have to spot clean the blood out of it then. Sorry, master.”
“That will be your job,” Devan said.
Jonty inclined his head. “Of course.”
They walked out less than fifteen minutes after they’d walked in, with a hundred-and twenty-pound suit and a thirty-pound pair of black shoes that Jonty had wrangled down from thirty-five, because there was a scuff on the heel, though Devan thought the assistant was desperate to get rid of them. Devan would have laughed if anyone had suggested he look for a suit or shoes that cost so little, laughed even harder at the idea of bargaining. This was a reminder of how fortunate he was. If he’d been shopping for a suit with Ravi, not that Ravi would have set foot in a shop that didn’t sell designer gear, they’d have been hours while Ravi made up his mind. Devan had hated shopping with him. With Jonty, it had been fun.
“I saw the way you looked at me in that suit,” Jonty said.
