met Simon Burke once before. He’d gone to the Burke house (house being a bit of a misnomer—Nick didn’t think any dwelling with eight bathrooms and a cleaning staff of six could qualify as just a house) toward the beginning of the Great Romance of Nick and Owen, unsure if he should take off his shoes. Not that he even wanted to do that because he was pretty sure one of his socks had a hole in it.
Nick had felt wholly out of place standing on marble floors, walls decorated with art that probably sold for millions but looked as if it had been painted by a particularly furious color-blind two-year-old. It was made worse when a man in a suit had taken Nick’s bag and coat without a word, hanging them in a closet that looked as if it were bigger than the top floor of Nick’s house.
Owen had obviously not been expecting his father to be home, and when he’d come into the foyer, cell phone firmly attached to his ear, brows furrowed angrily, he’d barely given his son a glance. Nick had wished he could just sink into the floor, but seeing as how he hadn’t figured out how to do that yet, he had stood as still as he could. Which meant tapping his fingers against his side and bouncing on his heels.
It looked as if they were going to ignore each other until Simon Burke had turned toward his son and said, “I won’t be home until late. Your mother has a charity … something, so you’re on your own. Sophie’s in the kitchen. She’ll—” And then he’d caught sight of Nick.
Nick knew he didn’t make the best first impressions. He was too twitchy, too awkward, and it didn’t help that when he tried to smile while stressed, he looked as if he were about to be ill. There was nothing he could do about that, no matter how hard he tried. So, when Mr. Burke turned back to his son and asked, “Who’s your little friend?” Nick said, “How do you do, your lordship.”
Owen groaned.
Mr. Burke turned slowly to Nick again. “Beg pardon?”
Nick winced. “Um. Sorry. I don’t know what to call you. I’ve never been in a house this big before, and I’m worried that I’ll break something. Not that I plan on it. Your priceless heirlooms are safe with me.”
“Right,” Mr. Burke said, and the expression on his face looked as if he were speaking with an increasingly quarrelsome sloth. “See that you don’t. I’d hate to have to sue your parents. I’m sure they wouldn’t be pleased to have to deplete the meager account they call a college fund for something so … avoidable.”
“Right,” Nick said hastily. “Agreed.”
“You can leave,” Owen said, sounding irritated. “We’re not going to do anything.”
“I highly doubt that,” Mr. Burke said. “At least it’s a guy this time. I won’t have to worry about any unwanted … complications.” And with that, he’d turned toward the door, barking into his phone.
“Complications?” Nick asked after the door had closed again.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go up to my room.”
That was Nick’s only interaction with Simon Burke of Burke Tower and Burke Pharmaceuticals and Burke Fill-in-the-Blank.
He wasn’t a fan, though he could totally see where Owen had gotten his … Owen-ness. Both were cool and aloof and more than a little scary. They were also both hot, though Nick would never admit that out loud. He wondered if fear boners were going to be a thing for him for the rest of his life. He hoped not.
But seeing Simon Burke again, here, now, in front of his school, snapping at his son, certainly didn’t do much to raise Nick’s opinion about him. He thought about heading to class and trying to get to his seat before he could get into more trouble, but that would mean passing in front of Owen and his dad, and he didn’t want their attention on him.
So he waited.
Owen turned toward his father. “What do you want?”
“What I want is for you to lose the attitude,” his father said angrily. “You think this is a game? I don’t know where you get off believing you have the run of the household, but you better course-correct that line of thought right now. Coming and going at all hours of the night like you’re not just a child is—”
“What do you care?” Owen retorted. “It’s not like you’re ever there to begin with. What does it matter if