Textual Confusion

11. A crime against humanity.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY.

I’m a professional baker , Asher reminded himself, staring down at the Tupperware full of cookies in his hands. He literally made stuff like this for a living. There was no way Markus wouldn’t like them.

Okay, but even if Markus does like the cookies, the snarky voice in Asher’s head piped up, do you really think he will appreciate you waltzing into his workplace – completely unannounced?

Honestly, the voice had a point.

Then again, Asher had already spent money on an Uber to get here, so… looked like he was doing this. Hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt, Asher stepped into the revolving glass door that served as the entrance into the spacious lobby of Kingston Enterprises.

Truthfully, Asher would have never dared to do something like this a couple weeks ago. But ever since Markus had brought him home from that club, their relationship – or whatever you wanted to call the thing between them – had taken off.

Over the past few weeks, Asher had spent more nights at Markus’s penthouse getting his brains fucked out than he had sleeping at home. They always shared breakfast the morning after, although Asher had snatched the spatula right out of Markus’s hands when he’d attempted to make pancakes again. He’d taken over breakfast duties from that point on, whipping them up something different each morning, whether it was waffles, French toast, muffins, or omelets. He’d even made them homemade breakfast pizza once.

Asher was pretty sure he knew the man’s kitchen better than Markus did at this point.

In the beginning, he'd worried he was crossing a line by making himself so familiar with Markus’s apartment, but when Asher hesitantly brought up his concerns, Markus had just looked at him like he was crazy and insisted that he looked forward to Asher cooking him breakfast in nothing but pajamas or one of his threadbare college t-shirts every morning and that he’d better not stop – unless he wanted Markus start up his attempts at pancakes again.

When Asher had explained their morning routine to Sasha, she'd teased him that it all sounded very domestic.

Recalling the morning he’d stood over the stove, knees quaking and trying his hardest not to burn the eggs as Markus toyed with his ass – slowly sliding the pretty, purple plug he’d bought him in and out of his fluttering hole – Asher wasn’t sure he agreed that “ domestic ” was the right word.

Regardless, they’d spent nearly every night and morning together for weeks now.

In addition, Asher’s phone was filled with messages from the man. In fact, it was a text he’d received from Markus just yesterday that had prompted his decision to visit the man at work.

OMG!

Markus

What happened?

I just witnessed a crime.

Are you alright!?

2 missed calls

Jesus Christ, Asher, answer your phone.

No, I’m not alright!

I just watched a woman eat the entire outside of a cinnamon roll before throwing the center of it in the garbage. The *center* of it, Markus. In the garbage. It was loaded with my special cream cheese frosting.

Asher.

You said you witnessed a fucking crime.

Yeah, a crime against humanity.

Wow. What a deviant. Lock her up and throw away the key.

I’m sensing sarcasm.

Just… don’t scare me like that again. I thought you were hurt.

I’m sorry.

I’ll forgive you if you send me a selfie.

Gorgeous.

Thanks, baby.

It really was horrifying, though. Sasha agrees with me.

Well, if Sasha says so…

There you go, setting off my sarcasm detector again.

Truthfully, I’m just not a fan of cinnamon rolls.

What?! Who doesn’t like cinnamon rolls? What other dreadful opinions do you harbor regarding desserts? Next you’ll tell me you prefer oatmeal raisin cookies over chocolate chip.

No.

Thank God. You had me worried there.

I don’t like any kind of cookie. Or sweets at all, really. They’re not my thing.

What?!?!

Except for you, of course. Especially that

Did you just use an emoji for the first time? We must commemorate this moment.

Wait. Is that peach supposed to represent my ass?

You know what? No. You are not going to distract me from the matter at hand. I’m a baker. I literally make sweet things for a living. Clearly it’s fallen on my shoulders to change your mind and awaken your inner sweet tooth.

And how do you plan on doing that?

You’ll see…

Why does that sound so ominous?

So, there Asher was, wandering into Kingston Enterprises with cookies.

It was Wednesday and Mr. Brittle had given him (and everyone else) the day off since an inspector was coming to examine the building, something that needed to happen before he could start drawing up the paperwork to sell the place to Asher.

As a result, Asher had spent the entire morning baking six small batches of different flavored cookies. He’d made the classics, of course: chocolate chip and sugar-dusted peanut butter. He’d also made some less sweet options: plain shortbread and chewy gingersnaps. For the last two, he may have gone a bit overboard: caramel-stuffed double chocolate chip, and lemon cookies topped with a homemade frosting and fresh orange zest.

After letting the cookies cool, he’d packed four of each kind into the biggest Tupperware he had on hand and ordered an Uber to take him to Kingston Enterprises.

It had seemed like a good idea until Asher actually got there. Now, looking around the lobby packed with men and women in business attire, he was second guessing his decision to show up at Markus’s work without any warning whatsoever so he could… what? Give the man cookies?

It seemed like something a middle school girl with a crush on her teacher might do.

And just like that scenario, the potential that this would end in humiliation was high. But Asher was committed, and he couldn’t bring himself to back out now. So he hesitantly made his way to one of the receptionist’s desks.

Luckily, Asher was no stranger to the building. He’d surprised Danny with goodies at work on more than a few occasions since he had started working at Kingston Enterprises five years ago, and the trio of little old ladies who worked the front lobby had a soft spot for him – especially Gertrude.

Her eyes lit up in recognition when she spotted him. “Asher, darling! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hi, Gertrude. I like your hair. Red suits you.”

She’d gotten it dyed since the last time he’d seen her, although it must have been a while ago judging by the white roots peeking out of her scalp. Still, Asher meant it when he said it suited her. The color complimented her blue eyes and matched the red lipstick she wore to a T.

She patted the red bob with a wrinkled hand, the chunky bracelets she favored sliding down to her elbow. “You flatter me.” She glanced at the Tupperware in his hands. “What’s this? Coming to bring your lover treats again?”

Asher sighed, knowing from experience that she was referring to Danny. Somehow, bringing his friend the occasional homemade treat had left the women who worked the front desk under the impression that they were together – you know, romantically . “I’ve told you before, Danny and I aren’t lovers. We’re just friends.”

Gertrude had the audacity to wink at him. “Whatever you say,” she said with a little smirk.

Asher sighed – again. He knew she was well-meaning, though, and she was already handing him a visitor’s pass, so he wasn’t about to explain that he technically was here to see his lover; it just wasn’t Danny.

After thanking her and promising to stop to visit before he left, Asher made his way to the elevator.

In wasn’t until he got into the elevator and was staring at the slab of buttons on the wall that he realized he had a problem.

He had no idea what floor Markus worked on.

His finger hovered over the 20. It was the top floor. Most CEOs worked on the top floor, right? Deciding he could always start there and work his way down, Asher pressed the button. The elevator began to close when-

“Hold the elevator!”

Reacting on instinct, Asher wedged his foot in between the metal doors before they could close all the way. They immediately reopened.

“Thank you.”

Asher didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was too busy staring at the man he’d unwittingly held the elevator for, regretting all the decisions he’d made that day and the cumulation of events that had led to this. His current predicament.

Because Asher knew the man. He was fit for someone in his mid-to-late fifties, and classically handsome with salt and pepper hair and a distinguished nose.

It was George Reynolds. His ex’s dad.

Asher tore his gaze away from the man when he realized he was staring. He hadn’t seemed to have seen Asher yet, too busy selecting his floor, so he did his best to duck down and hide behind his armful of Tupperware.

But, of course, it was a fool’s hope to think he wouldn’t be recognized.

Mere moments after the elevator began to ascend, their reflections inadvertently met eyes in the glossy elevator doors. The only consolation Asher felt when George turned to face him was that the man looked as surprised as he felt.

“Asher, is that you?”

“Hi, Mr. Reynolds,” he greeted meekly, pointedly staring down at his shoes. Or what he could see of them past the Tupperware. He could only hope the man would pick up on his obvious discomfort and leave him alone.

“How many times have I told you to call me George, hm?” He sounded vaguely amused, and any hope that Asher had of getting off the elevator without having to make awkward small talk with his ex’s dad was dashed. “Anyway, what brings you to Kingston Enterprises?”

“Oh, um… I’m just visiting a friend,” he decided on eventually, figuring it was close enough to the truth. He did plan on stopping to see Danny before he left, after all.

The man’s brow wrinkled. “Ah, that’s right. That… friend of yours works here. What’s his name again? Daniel?”

“It’s Danny.”

“That’s right.” He eyed the container in Asher’s hands, seeming to notice it for the first time. “And I suppose those are for him?”

“Uh… well, actually…” Asher had no idea how to explain the cookies weren’t for Danny. That they were actually for Markus Kingston, CEO and owner of Kingston Enterprises, otherwise known as Asher’s… what? Boyfriend? Sugar daddy? Employer, technically?

Luckily, Mr. Reynolds didn’t seem to actually want an explanation for the cookies.

“You know, I was deeply saddened when Trent told me that you two had decided to take a break.”

Asher blinked. He and Trent had been broken up for months. They were hardly “taking a break”. He had no idea what the man had told his parents, but surely that had to have been obvious by now. “Actually-”

But again, Mr. Reynold spoke over him. “Of course, my son’s no angel. I’m well aware of his faults. Trent can be immature at times and is prone to fits of jealousy.”

He’s also controlling, Asher added mentally , and condescending. A pro at picking up on people’s insecurities so he could use them against them. Asher would know. He’d done it to him often enough.

“That being said,” Mr. Reynolds continued, ignorant of Asher’s inner monologue, “I can’t really blame him for being uncomfortable with some of your… friendships. ” The man didn’t use finger quotes but he might as well have. “You have to admit, it’s certainly unconventional – showing up at a friend’s workplace just to deliver him cookies.”

Asher stared at Mr. Reynolds in disbelief. He was literally speechless, blindsided by the man’s audacity to imply his relationship with Danny had crossed the line of friendship when it was his son who had cheated on Asher.

He’d literally walked in on Trent fucking a woman on their couch.

Mr. Reynold must have mistaken Asher’s disbelief as shame because he laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. (It took every ounce of Asher’s self-control not to jerk away.) “Regardless, you were always good for Trent, and I know for a fact that he misses you. If you apologize and rethink some of your… acquaintances, I’m sure he’d take you back.”

Asher wasn’t a confrontational person by nature. Hell, he’s been known to apologize to furniture for accidentally running into it, but this was too much, even for him. After managing to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he was ready to set the record straight. “I don’t know what Trent told you, Mr. Reynolds, but we’re not just ‘taking a break’. We’re done – for good. And regardless of what either of you think of my ‘unconventional’ friendships, it was your son who cheated on me – not the other way around. I have nothing to apologize for, and frankly, I never want to see Trent – or you – ever again.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then-

“I see. You’re still harboring some hurt feelings. That’s okay, I’m sure that eventually you’ll see that Trent has always had your best interests in mind-”

Seriously?

“Really? Because I don’t think he had me on his mind at all when he was fucking that woman with that pathetic, inadequate worm he calls a cock!”

Ding!

The elevator doors opened on the fifteenth floor.

Thank God.

Asher was an unlikely mix of mortified and proud as Mr. Reynolds stared at him with wide eyes. He cleared his throat. “I think we’ve reached your floor.”

After taking a moment to compose himself, Mr. Reynolds nodded stiffly and stepped out of the elevator. Unfortunately, instead of walking away, he turned back around to face Asher, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Did you press the wrong button? I didn’t think Daniel worked on a floor this high.”

He didn’t think Danny was important, in other words.

He didn’t owe Mr. Reynolds an explanation, but guided by the remnants of anger still burning brightly in his chest, Asher decided to give him one anyway. “Despite your assumptions about our relationship, these cookies aren’t for Danny. They’re for Markus.”

Mr. Reynolds appeared confused for a moment before his eyebrows shot up. He scoffed. “Surely you don’t mean Markus, as in Markus Kingston, the CEO?”

“Yep,” Asher confirmed, cheerfully popping the “ p ”. He hit a button, prompting the elevator doors to begin to close. “And for the record, unlike Danny, Markus is much more than a friend to me.”

“I… b-but, Trent-” Mr. Reynolds sputtered.

It would be a lie to say Asher didn’t glean any satisfaction from Mr. Reynold’s gaping expression as the doors finally closed between them.

Asher’s heart with still pounding from the adrenaline rush of telling Mr. Reynolds off by the time the elevator finished climbing the last five floors. He had to take some deep breaths and calm himself before stepping out.

His first thought was that there weren’t many people on the top floor of the building.

In fact, except for a few men in fancy suits sitting in a small waiting area, and a woman working behind a desk in the center of the room, it was empty. Feeling out of place, Asher hesitantly approached the woman, relief filling him when he caught a glimpse of the golden plaque on the desk, displaying her name: Lauren.

It was Markus’s secretary.

She wasn’t what Asher expected.

For some reason, he’d always pictured her as a ditzy, but well-meaning blonde with a sunny disposition – probably since the only words the man ever used to describe her were “ incompetent ” and “ clumsy ”.

Well, he’d been right about the blonde part, anyway.

But she hardly seemed friendly as Asher approached, not even bothering to glance up from whatever she was doing on her phone.

Asher took a moment to observe her. She was dressed in a crisp, black blazer and matching pencil skirt. The skirt was almost indecently short and the top few buttons of the white shirt she wore under the blazer were unclasped, displaying her ample bosom.

Even Asher, who was as gay as they came, was distracted by the frankly impressive cleavage. After a moment, he managed to blink away his amazement. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Can I help you?”

She sounded annoyed, and still hadn’t looked up from her phone.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, I’m here to see Mar- I mean, Mr. Kingston,” he hurriedly corrected himself.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then, sorry, but you can’t see him.”

Asher frowned. She didn’t sound very sorry. “Can you call him and tell him that Asher is here? He’ll know who I am.”

That finally got her attention. Lauren put down her phone on her desk to look up at Asher, scrutinizing him with her icy blue eyes. He wondered what she was thinking as she took in the oversized sweater threatening to fall down one of his shoulders and the dark wash jeans. (A far cry from the business attire everyone else in the room was wearing.)

He got his answer a moment later when she opened her mouth. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Asher blinked. “Um, no-”

“Mr. Kingston is a busy man. He doesn’t have time for whatever prank this is supposed to be,” she said, gesturing at Asher and the plastic Tupperware in his hands. “I suggest you leave before he gets back from his meeting.”

Of course he was in a meeting. Asher knew Markus was a busy man. It really was a dumb idea to think he could just waltz in here and see him. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “I understand. If I could just drop these off in his office-”

Lauren scoffed – loudly, and Asher’s ears turned red in embarrassment as he felt eyes turn and focus in their direction. “How stupid do you think I am? As if I would just let some stranger waltz into the office of the richest, most important CEO in the city.” She stood from her chair. “I’m calling security.”

Lauren grabbed her phone, presumably to do just that.

Asher felt a distinct sense of de ja vu, and in a moment of panic, blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Wait, no! I’m his boyfriend!”

Lauren stared at him for a moment, clearly shocked. Then, she laughed . “Yeah, right,” she scoffed, scrunching her nose as she once again looked him over – like she smelled shit, or something equally as odorous. “Mr. Kingston doesn’t have a boyfriend. Everyone knows he’s Seattle’s most eligible bachelor. I don’t think he’s even into men. And even if he was, he’d have better taste than this .” She actually reached across her desk and picked at the frayed edge of one of Asher’s sleeves. “I mean, what is this? Homeless chic?”

He’d heard more creative insults in high school. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though. Asher could feel the gaze of everyone in the room on him at this point, and his face was burning hot with humiliation. He was seconds away from tucking his tail between his legs and getting out of there as fast as he could when-

Ding!

Everyone twisted their necks when they heard the sound of the elevator opening. Asher froze when Markus, along with three other well-dressed men, stepped through the doors.

Their gazes met from across the room, and Asher watched as Markus’s eyes widened in surprise. To his credit, however, the man quickly disguised his shock. “Asher!” he called, ignoring the way people shamelessly stared, consuming the scene in front of them like it was a TV drama. Markus marched towards Asher and Lauren. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Kingston,” Lauren quickly inserted herself, stepping around her desk and grabbing Asher by the crook of his elbow. “I was just getting rid of him.”

“Don’t touch him,” Markus all but snarled, and Lauren yelped, immediately releasing Asher and taking a step back.

Asher didn’t know if it was the ruddy cheeks or the faint sheen of frustrated tears in his eyes that caused it, but Markus’s tone was incredibly gentle when he turned to address him. “Is everything alright?”

Asher swallowed. “Everything’s fine.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t sound upset by Asher’s presence at his workplace, just confused. Still, Asher felt like an idiot. “Here,” he said, thrusting the Tupperware he was holding into the man’s chest in lieu of answering.

Markus blinked down at the offering, hesitantly taking the packaged goodies from Asher’s hands. “Are these for me?” he asked.

Asher nodded, but kept his gaze directed at the ground. “Well, now that the cookies have been delivered, I’ll just be going-”

“Wait,” Markus cut him off, balancing the cookies with one hand and curling the other around Asher’s waist to prevent him from leaving. “Why don’t we head back to my office and talk, hm?”

Asher would have probably agreed to anything to get away from the penetrating stares. “Okay,” he agreed meekly.

“But Mr. Kingston!” Lauren protested, finally gathering the courage to speak again. “You have a meeting with the head of the legal department in fifteen minutes-”

“Postpone it until tomorrow,” Markus said, waving a hand, not even looking at her, eyes still focused on Asher.

She blinked stupidly. “What? But tomorrow, you have-”

Markus turned on her. “Figure it out, Lauren,” he snapped. “It’s what I pay you for. If it’s too difficult for you to reschedule a couple of meetings, I’ll find someone else who is capable of it, understand?”

A pause.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. And for the record, if Asher shows up here again, I expect him to be let into my office the first time he asks, understand?”

Lauren’s eyes widened. “But, Sir! Protocol calls for-”

“I’m in charge. I decided what protocol is. If Asher comes here again, you will treat him as you treat me. Which means you’ll address him in a respectful manner, let him into my office whenever he pleases, and you’ll keep your damn hands to yourself, understand?”

Lauren pressed her lips together, looking either on the verge of tears or a major temper tantrum.

“Did I stutter, Lauren?” Markus pressed.

After a moment, her shoulders deflated. She shook her head. “No, Sir.”

“Wonderful.” Markus turned towards Asher. “Ready?”

Asher nodded, and Markus led him down one of the hallways, towards a door surrounded by shuttered windows. Asher felt the tension drain from his shoulders as soon as they stepped inside and were out of the eyesight of others. There was still some lingering embarrassment, but he had to admit that there was something both heartwarming and incredibly hot watching Markus stand up for him.

But thoughts of his humiliating encounter with the man’s secretary flew out the window when he finally bothered to take in his surroundings. His eyes widened.

“ This is your office?” he asked incredulously.

It was at least twice the size of Asher’s apartment. Along with the typical office furniture – a massive mahogany desk and intricate filing system – there was also a sitting area with a couch and chairs. There was even a big screen TV mounted on the wall.

“I suppose technically it’s an office suite.”

In Asher’s experience, most the furniture he came across in work settings – mostly the lounge chairs at the doctor’s and dentist’s office – was stiff and uncomfortable. This was not the case with the couch in Markus’s office.

“I see why you spend so much time here now,” he commented after plopping down onto one of its cushions. He almost wished he had a blanket so he could curl up and take a nap.

Markus snorted in amusement as he set the Tupperware Asher had given him on top of his desk. “Trust me, I love my job, but there’s plenty of other things I’d rather be doing than working.” He eyed Asher pointedly.

Asher absolutely refused to blush. “I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure this is more comfortable than my bed.”

Markus frowned. “What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing,” Asher immediately assured, half-fearing the man would offer to buy him a new one. (He still hadn’t been able to get him to take back the Rolex. Not that Asher had tried all that hard.)

Markus narrowed his eyes, looking like he wasn’t sure he bought what Asher was saying, but after a moment, he let it go. “You know,” he said, making his way to where Asher sat on the couch, “I’m surprised you haven’t scolded me yet for the way I spoke to my secretary. You usually stick up for her when I complain about her incompetence.”

Asher shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as he answered. “Yeah, well, that was before I knew she was trying to seduce you.”

Markus raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Asher shot him an unimpressed look, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you not see what she was wearing?”

Markus shrugged, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he perched himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of Asher. “Guess I didn’t notice.”

Asher made a disbelieving noise. “Yeah, right. When I saw her, I thought I might have accidentally stepped onto the set of a porno instead of the executive floor of a financial firm.”

Markus leaned forward into Asher’s space, and Asher tried very hard not to look at the way the man’s legs splayed as he rested his hands on his knees.

“Is my baby jealous?” he teased.

“No,” Asher immediately denied. A pause. “Well, maybe a little,” he admitted reluctantly, no idea how adorable he looked as he puckered his lips into a pout. “I mean, it’s not like I blame her. Not only are you the hottest man I’ve ever seen, you were on the cover of frickin’ Forbes magazine. Twice.”

“You know about that?” Markus asked, seemingly surprised.

“Google is a thing,” Asher pointed out. “Not that I searched your name!” he immediately clarified. “It was Sasha!” The last thing he wanted Markus to think was that he was some weird stalker. “She just, you know, had some concerns.”

“Relax, Asher. I don’t care if you Googled me. I’d be shocked if you hadn’t. And if it makes you feel better, I had a background check run on you after our first meeting.”

Asher blinked. That was a lot to digest. “Oh.”

“Although, I have to admit. I’m a little disappointed.”

“Huh?”

“I was hoping the reason you knew about the magazine covers was that you used them for more personal reasons.”

Spank bank material, in other words.

Asher wrinkled his nose. “You’re gross,” he accused. (Although, he had to admit, Markus had looked ridiculously good in the pictures Sasha had shown him.)

Markus pressed a hand to his chest as if Asher had wounded him. “You literally just told me that I was hottest man you’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, well,” he struggled to find something clever to say, “those aren’t mutually exclusive. And, anyway, I don’t think it’s me you have to worry about masturbating to your Forbes photo shoot.” He glanced pointedly at the door.

Asher froze when Markus reached forward and carefully cupped his jaw. “Sweetheart, as cute as you are when you’re jealous, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He brushed a thumb over Asher’s lips. “There’s only one person in my life that I’m absolutely mad for.”

Asher’s heart was galloping in his chest, and when Markus leaned in, he was convinced he was about to kiss him. (All those dirty texts they’d exchanged about Asher blowing Markus in his office may have come to mind, too.) But instead of connecting their mouths, Markus merely placed a chaste kiss on Asher’s forehead before retreating.

“Now that that’s cleared up, mind telling me what those are all about?” Markus asked, gesturing at the abandoned Tupperware on his desk.

“They’re cookies. I made them for you.”

Markus grinned, amused. “I gathered that, but why did you make them for me? And bring them to me here?”

Asher nibbled on his bottom lip, wondering if this was where he got scolded.

Markus reached forward and thumbed the lip right out of his mouth. “Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Sorry,” Asher offered reflexively. “It’s just… are you mad?”

Markus seemed honestly baffled when he replied to Asher’s question with one of his own. “Why would I be mad?”

“I mean, I did show up at your work unannounced. Besides signing an NDA regarding the, you know… monetary aspect of our relationship,” Asher decided on awkwardly, “we haven’t really talked about if you’re okay with being seen in public with me…”

Apparently, Asher needn’t have worried, since Markus merely waved off Asher’s concerns. “I couldn't care less what anyone in this building thinks about my personal life. There will always be gossip, regardless.”

“Still, I don’t want to cause any weirdness for you with your colleagues…”

“They’re not my colleagues, Asher, they’re my underlings,” Markus explained, no nonsense. “Like I said, their opinions are meaningless to me."

Asher finally allowed himself to relax. “Okay, good. Because I might have panicked earlier and told your secretary that I’m your boyfriend.”

Markus didn’t immediately respond, and for a second, Asher thought he’d read the situation wrong and that he was about to be castigated for his loose lips, after all. Instead, Markus laughed. “Hm, possessive, little thing, aren’t you?” he teased.

Asher shot him a put-upon glare. “That’s it. I’m taking my cookies and leaving,” he said, shooting out of his seat and marching towards Markus’s desk.

It was a bluff, of course, but it worked in Asher’s favor when Markus immediately stood, following him and trapping him against the desk with his body. He wrapped his arms around Asher’s middle, nuzzling him.

“Let’s not be rash,” he said, breath warm on Asher’s cheek. “I’m sorry for teasing.” He nosed Asher behind the ear, causing shivers to erupt down his spine. “It’s fine that you told Lauren you’re my boyfriend. In fact, it plays into my plans perfectly.”

Distracted by the hot press of Markus’s body against his own and the lips that dragged against his skin as Markus spoke, it took a moment for Asher to understand what the man was saying. “Plans?” he managed to repeat stupidly after a moment. “What plans?”

“My parents invited me to our traditional family get-together over Thanksgiving weekend.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Asher offered, not sure what it had to do with him.

“It would be,” Markus agreed, “if they weren’t threatening to set me up with one of their friends’ daughters if I don’t bring a date. Which is why I want you to come with me when I visit.”

Asher blinked, thinking for a moment that he’d misunderstand. He turned to face Markus – not the easiest thing when the man refused to relinquish his grip on him. “You… you want me to meet your parents?”

Markus nodded. “They’ve been nagging me to settle down for years. Introducing you to them as my boyfriend is the perfect way to get them off my back. I’m not sure if you recall, but the contract we signed mentioned that I might need you for the occasional social obligation.”

“The contract. Right.”

Asher tried to keep his expression neutral, but he felt something inside him turn cold and crack. (His heart, most likely.)

How could he have forgotten, even for a moment, that this was all just pretend? Sex – and favors, apparently – for money. That’s it. Everything else – all of Markus’s soft shows of affection and seemingly genuine concern – was just contrived bullshit to make the sex better.

They weren’t in a real relationship. Asher knew that, he did. (At least, his brain did. His heart, however, was apparently a dumbass of epic proportions.)

“Asher?” Markus prompted, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he picked up on Asher’s sudden change of mood. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Forcing himself to focus, Asher found he did recall the clause in their agreement that Markus was referring to. At the time, Asher had just assumed it meant that he might be expected to show up as Markus’s plus one at a work dinner or corporate event every once in a while, like the gala where he and Markus had originally met.

Not sharing a Thanksgiving meal with the man’s parents.

“You don’t have to come with me, of course. If it makes you uncomfortable-”

Lying to Markus’s parents did make Asher uncomfortable, to be honest. But there was no way he was about to let the them set their son up with someone else either. Plus, as Markus had so matter-of-factly pointed out… he’d already agreed to do this by signing the contract.

“It’s fine,” Asher cut Markus off, offering the man a smile and hoping he couldn’t tell how forced it was. “I’ll go with you to meet your parents.”

The worried wrinkle in Markus’s brow didn’t ease, but after a moment of searching Asher’s eyes, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll pick you up Saturday at noon. They’ll expect us to spend the night, so pack a bag.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great.”

But things weren’t “great”. For the first time in weeks, there was a noticeable strain between them. (At least, to Asher it was noticeable.)

“So,” Markus said, finally releasing the grip he had on Asher to pick up the container of cookies on his desk. “Let’s see what you made for me.”

Grateful for the distraction from the contrary feelings buzzing inside him, Asher immediately launched into a detailed description of the different kinds of cookies he’d made. He forced Markus to try a bite of each one, carefully watching his facial expression as he bit into the sweet morsels, looking for any hint that he particularly liked any of them.

Unsurprisingly, the man had a good poker face. If pressed, Asher would say he might have enjoyed the caramel-stuffed double chocolate chip cookie the best, despite his supposed aversion to sweets. But it really was impossible to tell.

“Well?” Asher demanded impatiently when he’d finally taken a bite of the last cookie.

“Do you want the truth?” Markus asked.

“Of course.”

Markus shrugged. “They’re fine.”

Asher’s eyes widened. “ Fine? That’s it?”

“I told you, darling. I don’t care much for sweet things. Except for you, of course.”

Whether he was sore from the lack of praise or it was still the reminder of the contract buzzing inside his head that caused his reaction, Asher didn’t know, but he pulled away when Markus leaned in for a kiss.

The man blinked in confusion at the rejection.

“Just you wait,” Asher said, refusing to meet the man’s eyes. “I won’t give up until I make something you like.”

“Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart,” Markus agreed.

What would make Asher happy was if the man hadn’t reminded him of the fact that their relationship was a complete farce. But, of course, you couldn’t put toothpaste back in the tube after squeezing it out.

Or however that saying went.

Despite his undoubtedly busy schedule, Markus insisted Asher stay a bit longer, and he didn’t let him leave until he eventually got that kiss.

It tasted like a mix of Markus, mint, and leftover cookies, and was perhaps one of the sweetest kisses Asher had ever experienced.

So, really, there was no logical reason at all for him to have such a bitter taste in his mouth the rest of the day.