Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,63

Three to be exact. But we only became exclusive a few months ago.”

Madi once again gave Az a look like he was crazy for admitting all this, but fuck it, Az was running out of ideas. He needed Madi to understand that he wasn’t running away from whatever this was. No matter how inconceivable it was that it would end happily.

“Fascinating.” He looked to Madi. “Did you trust him? Before the first perceived betrayal, that is?”

Silence stretched like a wire pulled taut between them. “Did you, motek?” Az prompted.

18

Madigan

“Did you trust him? Before the first perceived betrayal, that is?”

Madigan’s stare lengthened, taking in the faint twinkle in Azrael’s eyes that said he found all of this amusing. Behind that, though, Madigan read genuine curiosity at the doctor’s question. But it was a ridiculous question in the first place.

Madigan flung a hand over the back of the couch, shifting around to try to get comfortable. It didn’t work. The entire time, he was aware of both Azrael’s and the doctor’s stares growing heavier.

“I have trusted him before, yes,” he admitted after a long pause and more restless attempts to get comfortable. “But”—he lifted a finger pointedly and shot a vicious look at Azrael, whose eyes were practically tap dancing with humor now. Madigan’s nostrils flared with annoyance—“our entire relationship is predicated on lies and mistrust. It’s no wonder we’re in the bind we’re in now when, from the beginning, Akil took the very first opportunity he had to break the simplest act of trust.”

The doctor’s brows shot up. “And how did he do that?”

“He…” Goddammit. Madigan cleared his throat and considered his phrasing. “He took advantage of me when I was in a…a vulnerable position after we first met.” Sleeping like the dead after sex worthy of a medal for endurance qualified as a vulnerable position, Madigan thought.

“What sort of position? He physically took advantage of you?” The doctor lifted a brow.

“Christ, no,” Madigan growled, then cocked his head, studying the doctor’s expression and noting his lack of concern. “You’re fucking with me.”

Dr. Eastman granted the barest twitch of a smile. “You’re being vague. So, no, I’m not fucking with you, per se. I’m encouraging you—in my own way—to elucidate and be specific. It’s already very evident that you’re involved in illegal activities in which you’re competitors of a sort. Yes,” the doctor emphasized before Madigan could interrupt, “that’s obvious to me, as well. And that both of you thrive on the competition. Crave it, even. So.” He rolled his wrist smoothly. “Please, speak freely or, at least, give me more clarity.”

Az touched his knuckles to his mouth on the pretense of clearing his throat, but Madigan caught the smirk behind it. Insufferable bastard. He wanted to throat punch him. No, he wanted to want to throat punch him. Instead, he felt the corners of his mouth twitching.

Madigan tempered the smile and fixed a flat stare upon the doctor, whose expression had returned to neutral. Then he snuck a sidelong look at Azrael before continuing. “Our very first encounter, I met him, we slept together, and while I was still sleeping, he incapacitated a…a PowerPoint presentation I needed for a very important business meeting the next day. And then he…” Madigan shot a murderous look at Az, who was obviously about to break into laughter. “He was able to attend the meeting and give his presentation instead, and he stole the client right from under me.”

“A month later,” Az interrupted smoothly, with a haughty glance at Madigan, “while I was being questioned and wrongfully detained by a local police force on another ‘business’ trip—thanks to yours truly here—he helped himself to one of my clients.”

“My PowerPoint presentation was actually far more optimal for that client, give me that,” Madigan pointed out.

Azrael snorted. “My PowerPoint presentation would have worked just fine, and you know it.”

“Let’s try something a bit different.” The doctor scribbled something onto his tablet and then crossed one ankle over his other knee. “I’d like you to say something you admire about each other.”

Silence fell.

Madigan and Azrael exchanged a glance, then Madigan narrowed his eyes at the other man before settling back into the couch. “Alright. Akil is very good in bed,” he offered with a sardonic twist of his lips. “Incredibly so.” It wasn’t a lie, and it was an admission Madigan could freely give. A small burst of pride filled his chest for his own honesty; it was a rare occurrence.

“I would say the same of John.”