Boy in the Club a boy & billionaire novel - Rachel Kane Page 0,54

wrong, it’s not on offer. But his water-streaked body is all I can see in my mind, the way his face twisted with some mix of desire and anger as he came.

Back at the club, I’d never had a chance to see that. It all ended too quickly.

Why does it not surprise me that Colby has brought me to a mansion? I’m not sure where I thought we were going. This small town we’ve reached doesn’t seem like a mansion kind of place. It’s very small, but sweet in that way small towns sometimes are. I used to think my hometown was like that, before we moved to Atlanta. Rhodes had a feeling like everyone knew your business, and sometimes I missed that about the city. In Atlanta you can see a thousand strangers in a day.

You can also see plenty of mansions, but none like this. My jaw is hanging open.

“This…this is yours?”

Colby chuckles at my astonishment. “Hardly. My brother is an investor. No, this place really belongs to his boyfriend and his pals.”

“His boyfriend must be pretty rich.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But no. Remind me sometime, I’ll tell you the whole sordid history of Superbia Springs. But, in the meantime, we’ve got business to do.”

At first I think there’s a valet or doorman on the porch to greet us, but when I get a closer look, I realize this has to be Colby’s brother. They look so much alike, although Colby’s dark, impenetrable eyes are nothing like his brother’s strangely bright green ones.

His brother goes in for a hug, while Colby stands there stiffly, looking ready to push him away.

“All right, all right, I missed you too,” he says. “Dalton, this is my new assistant, Finn Smith.”

“Ahh, Elkie’s guy, good to meet you. I recommended you, you know. Any employee of Elkie’s—”

“Could we drop the niceties and talk about why we’re here?” Colby is suddenly brusque with his brother. “Do you have a conference room in this place, or should I just plop down in the lobby to strategize?”

“All business, my brother,” Dalton says to me apologetically. “Listen, do you want a minute to freshen up? They’re serving lunch if you want anything—”

“He’s fine,” Colby says in a low voice, almost a growl. “I need him for our meeting.”

“I’d say you’re being uncharacteristically rude, but no, this is about par for the course. Well, come in. Noah wanted to say hello, but maybe I should get him to stay away so you don’t bite his head off.”

Dalton leads us inside, and my sense of astonishment just won’t quit. The lobby is gorgeous, with marble floors, a grand staircase, and an immense stained glass window at the first landing, some sort of outdoor scene that filters the most beautiful, calming light down to us. It’s like walking through a cathedral.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” calls a voice from the staircase, and when I look back up, there’s a young man, maybe a few years older than me, beaming down. “Colby, you drank all the booze last time, there isn’t any left.”

“Noah,” mutters Colby. Why’s he got such a stick up his ass?

Noah’s an absolute cutie, a twink who makes me feel…well…like an ugly. I can practically hear Jimi’s voice in my ear, reminding me that I don’t belong.

Jimi. I hadn’t heard anything else from him since that letter.

Had he given up on me? I had to hope so.

This is my world now.

Sort of.

Not that I belong here either, not with these three handsome men standing around. I’m a disfigured troll compared to them, and it’s all I could do not to touch my scar in defensiveness.

Colby looks so uncomfortable when Noah gives him two kisses, one on each cheek. Then the guy turns to me, looks me up and down, but not in a possessive way, not like the men at the club. “Well well. You must be the new secretary. I hope Colby isn’t treating you too abominably? You know he acts like a monster all the time, but that’s just a ruse. Deep down he’s a jaded psychopath.”

“Hey!” says Colby, clearly not amused by Dalton and Noah’s laughter.

In fact, he’s blushing.

Which is…interesting.

“Colbs here insists on meeting right away,” says Dalton.

“Did you offer them lunch? You can’t let them do business on an empty stomach.”

“No, I offered. Colby insists on suffering.”

“At least let me bring you something to drink,” says Noah. “Coffee, tea, the last few remaining drops of scotch Colby left us after his last