Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,48
you take over.”
“Yes, mijo. It is.” Silver rubbed Donovan’s back in soothing circles, cradling his skull with his other hand and holding him against the crook of his shoulder. “Let’s go inside and you can tell me all about what happened.”
Donovan wouldn’t release his hold for a few moments, but Silver didn’t force him to let go. If anyone ever needed to know they were wanted, it was Donovan. Silver had already determined that anything he did that could be construed as rejection wouldn’t play well with Donovan.
“Okay, yeah.” Donovan straightened as Silver gradually released his hold. “Sorry.” He chuckled. “What sort of host am I? I haven’t invited you in.”
Donovan stepped aside and gestured for Silver to come inside. He didn’t miss the quick scan Donovan did of the hallway before he closed the door, however. The financial disparity between them wasn’t what caused Silver the most concern when it came to their success as a couple. What truly worried him was Donovan’s fear of being openly gay.
“Here, why don’t you have a seat.”
Donovan gestured to a long, black leather sofa that ran perpendicular to its smaller cousin. A thick, pale gray carpet covered the floorspace, and a sliding glass door at the far end of the room opened to a balcony and boasted a fantastic view of the city skyline. The rest of the room was done in a sparse, modern décor. While it was tasteful and sophisticated, it also struck Silver as being cold and impersonal.
A quartet of framed sketches caught his eye. They were hung on the wall next to an enormous flat-screen, wall mounted TV. Recessed lighting in the ceiling shown a spotlight on them. Instead of taking a seat on the couch, Silver dropped his backpack and bypassed the sofa to view the drawings closer. His gaze flicked down to the signature on one of the pieces, verifying what he’d already guessed.
“When did you do these? They’re majestic.”
Donovan joined Silver at his side, his features radiating a wistful expression as he gazed up at them.
“You’re too kind. They’re also outdated.” He regarded Silver with a melancholy smile. “I almost sold them right out of design school, but my father put a stop to it.”
Silver frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”
Donovan let out a heavy sigh then looked up at his drawings again. “Mustn’t hurt Lawrence’s feelings, oh no, can’t have that.”
“Because your brother’s sketches weren’t as good.”
Donovan grunted. “Apparently not. He was kicked out the first year. We were already sworn enemies at that point, so I’m sure I never got the full story.” Donovan turned to Silver. “I know you think I’m flighty and irresponsible, that all I care about is a good time. But Lawrence and my father go out of their way to avoid anything that might require to much effort. My father’s main duties at the firm encompass long, drunken lunches and teeing off every chance he gets. Lawrence isn’t much different, only instead of golf, he’s busy hustling every wife of every club member into bed.”
Silver pressed his lips together. Everything was beginning to fall into place when it came to the company’s structure.
“In other words, you’re the responsible one, the hard worker—the cement holding that firm together.” Silver laced his fingers with Donovan’s. “Which is why your father has agreed to let you run the company all these years, despite his attitude towards you. He knows it would fall apart otherwise.”
Donovan lowered his head, gripping Silver’s fingers tighter. “I suppose you’re right. He’s always told me that if it wasn’t for my mother’s last wishes, he ever would’ve let me near the business. But I can see now that he was using that as an excuse.” Donovan lifted his gaze. “Which also explains something else. The thing I have to tell you.”
Silver brought their joined hands to his mouth and gave Donovan’s knuckles a kiss. “Then let’s sit down and you can tell me all about it.”
Donovan nodded with his shoulders slumped. As they turned to make their way to the sofa, Donovan tried to release Silver’s hand, but Silver wouldn’t let him. He was going to make damn sure that Donovan wasn’t without touch through whatever difficult experience he had to share.
Once they reached the sofa, Silver turned to Donovan. “I’d like to hold you on my lap, mijo.”
Donovan arched his eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“If you’ll let me, yes.”
Donovan tugged at his beard, his brow creasing. He lifted his eyes. “All right. Sure.” He gave Silver