Page 2 of The Professional
“That won’t work.”
“Nope, but I don’t want to, either. I like Sloan, he’s not bad.”
Forrest snorted with laughter. “Not bad? You seem to more than like him.”
The twitch of Conall’s lips told him that he agreed. The doors opened again and a familiar face popped in. He cleared his throat. “Are you open?”
It was a silly question with people lingering around the foyer, but Adrian Honor did everything hesitantly, as though afraid he’d insult someone. Terrance went into businessman mode. Buttoning up his trim, well-fitted suit, he strode over to the new person, opening the door farther for him, and waved his hand. “Please, come in! Welcome back to the Virtue, Mr. Honor.”
Forrest exhaled and stood, straightening his back. He smiled tentatively at Conall. “We’ll need to pick this conversation up later. You should come around more often, we miss you here.”
“He yours?” Conall gestured at Adrian Honor with a tilt of his head.
Forrest almost saidunfortunately. Adrian wasn’t a bad man, but the only word Forrest could use to describe him was vanilla. He’d grown up as a politician’s son, which meant he didn’t have the experiences other men usually did by his age. The first time he came to Forrest, he lost his virginity. He lasted about three minutes inside of Forrest before he exploded. He’d been coming to the Virtue twice a month for two years now, and each time was as boring as the first, but he had money. Forrest couldn’t pass up any client, no matter how inexperienced and plain they were.
“Yeah. You remember Adrian?” Forrest sighed.
“Ah. Right. Average Adrian.” Conall grinned and waggled his eyebrows, making Forrest groan. He shouldn’t have said a word to him about Adrian. Poor guy didn’t really deserve nicknames. At least he hadn’t raised a hand to Forrest. “You’ll see me around more. I’m going to spend a week here, catch up with friends, and…I’m taking over for McKinnon.”
“Shit. Really?” Forrest shuffled closer, excitement surging in his gut. Even though he didn’t feelthatway for Conall anymore, he still missed his company. Conall made him laugh and treated him like something other than a sex worker. “What happened to McKinnon?”
“Don’t know. Not sure if I want to, either. Sloan hasn’t told me a thing, and I haven’t seen him around.”
The thought made Forrest shudder. Killough was known for setting a high bar, and anyone who didn’t meet his standards usually ended up six feet under. “I have work to do. Not all of us can live in luxury with a mob boss boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Conall protested.
Forrest laughed and reached up to tug at the red collar strapped to Conall’s neck. “This says otherwise, sweetheart.”
Conall batted his hands away. “Shut up.”
“I’ll be seeing you around then.” Forrest waggled his eyebrows as best he could before he fluttered his fingers at Conall in a wave. Then, he made his way over to Adrian, who Terrance led to the reception desk for payment. He had two hours to do what he wanted with Forrest, which he already knew would mostly be foreplay and one round of sex, before Adrian spent the rest of the time talking about his life as a politician’s son. As long as Forrest got paid, he didn’t care.
Rourke watched Forrest the entire trek over to Adrian, and a thrill shot through him. He added a shake of his hips and went as far as to wink. Rourke didn’t react, though. He’d never been the kind of man who showed any outward emotion, and disappointment settled inside Forrest when Rourke returned his attention to Sloan. No matter how much Forrest hoped he’d see a subtle reaction from Rourke, it never happened.
“Hey, cutie.” Forrest leaned against the mahogany reception desk and stretched, his thin green T-shirt inching higher to reveal the bare skin of his stomach. His jeans hung low on his hips, giving Adrian a show.
Adrian flushed, the pale skin on his cheeks glowing red, and he smiled. “Hey, Forrest.” He took back the change Sam handed him and slid the cash into his wallet before he turned to Forrest. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?”
Forrest noticed the way his eyes strayed over to Killough, and recognition flashed in them. Of course he knew Killough. His father’s political career started in deals with the Italians, who in turn had a truce with the Irish. At least that’s what Adrian told him after the first orgasm he’d had inside Forrest. The guy didn’t know how to keep secrets, and getting off made men’s mouths move a lot more than what they usually would. His innocence made Forrest’s heart ache.
Forrest stroked his shoulder and examined his tall, strong body leisurely. Adrian may be vanilla in bed, but beneath that blue cotton, buttoned-up shirt were mouth-watering muscles. If one thing could be said about him, it was that he kept in good shape, which always made Forrest wonder why he couldn’t find someone who wasn’t a professional. His looks were the kind that made the knees weak too, with wavy chestnut hair cut short to the sides of his head, and brown eyes dark as coffee beans. With a strong jaw, full lips, and a high brow, he could have chosen modeling as his career instead of following in his father’s political footsteps.
“You’d never interrupt.” Forrest glanced at Rourke out of the corner of his eyes and leaned a little closer to Adrian so their lips were inches apart. “I’ll always make time for one of my favorites.”
Adrian’s blush deepened and he ducked his head, laughing. “Thanks.”
The guards came over and patted Adrian down for drugs. It was a regulation that every client went through. Since Rourke started, the Virtue was run with rules to avoid any overdoses and a client pat down was part of the entry conditions. It was usually done before the professional collected their client, but Killough and Conall’s appearance had changed their routine.
“Come with me.” Forrest slid his hand into Adrian’s after the guards were done and tugged him gently. They shifted toward the stairs, Rourke’s gaze on them until they were at the top and heading toward Forrest’s room. Either Adrian chose to ignore the look they got, or he’d been oblivious to it, and if Forrest was a betting man, he’d go with the latter. Adrian’s sweetness made him unique in this cruel world.
They strode down the long hallway of lush, royal blue carpets, dark wooden walls, and rustic sconce lamps. Most of panels of the walls had been taken out, with new sheets reinstalled, but Forrest could stillseethe bullet holes in them, with blood and brains splattered on the dark timber, as though they were still there. He still saw Clint lying on the ground, body twisted in awkward angles, a deep hole in his temple.
Forrest’s chest stuttered, panic squeezing at his heart. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed like Angel had taught him. Having a panic attack was the last thing he wanted to do in that moment.
Finally, they reached the room Forrest earned after years of hard work and high paying clients. He owned the biggest room belonging to a worker, and he deserved it. Forrest opened the door and gestured to it, winking as Adrian nervously shuffled past him as though this was the first time rather than the forty-eighth.
Glass blown pendant lights hung from the room’s high ceilings. Dark red carpet contrasted with a deep gray color scheme, highlighted by a feature wall made of leather squares behind the king-sized bed. There were three other doors, one leading into the luxurious private bathroom, another to a huge walk-in closet, and the third hid what Forrest affectionately called his ‘toy room.’ It held all the sex toys a professional could dream of.
