Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Julian’s hair was meticulously styled, and his beard trimmed with precision by a stylist who’d stopped by the room shortly after his arrival. He’d also had a manicure and pedicure timed perfectly after the stylist finished her job. There was a time Julian would have taken all this special treatment for granted. Not this evening, though. Now, he understood the pure joy of being so cared for and pampered.
The stylist had come armed with some essentials: eyeliner and mascara. Thomas had a thing for his blue-green eyes being accentuated with a dark eyeliner fringed in mascara. Based on the intricate mask hanging close to his tuxedo, the black eyeliner was a perfect choice to make his gaze pop.
This world of incomprehensible amounts of cash had a way of blocking out the realness of Julian’s current life. Although Beckett hadn’t left Julian’s thoughts since he had made the decision to come tonight, he was also no longer carrying the guilt like he had. Maybe because he hadn’t checked his cell phone since he’d boarded the flight to LA. Julian’s buzzing anxiety was already at an all-time high before factoring in Beckett’s pain. He pushed those thoughts away too.
A dilator kit had arrived exactly thirty-minutes ago, helping to remind him of his current job. Julian had to find then retain a single-minded focus to help get him through this night. Thomas liked his toys and enjoyed being the one to administer them. Of course, Julian had misgivings, but he’d deal with those when the time came.
A soft instrumental played throughout the bedroom, dressing area, and bathroom, coming to an abrupt halt with the tone of a beeping alarm. Eight o’clock. Time for the party. Julian had skipped the seated dinner. He had too many butterflies flittering away inside his belly to think that adding food would end well.
He reached for the mask, careful of his hair as he put it in place. He had to admit, the eyeliner did make his eyes pop and his full lips look plumper than normal.
His nerves were frayed, ready to get the night started, pushing Julian out of the suite to the bank of elevators leading to the grand ballroom downstairs. The sooner he got his night started, the faster he could find some ease.
Surely everything was destined to fall into place. After all, his dreams were coming true.
Julian rolled away the tension in his shoulders then swiveled his neck back and forth as the elevator doors opened to the first floor. He stepped out, moving with more confidence than he’d thought possible. Showtime.
Beckett pushed through the front door of Julian’s condo, instantly sensing a coldness that he’d never experienced before. He flipped on the entry light and made his way further inside the condo to the kitchen, turning on all the overhead lights as he went.
Before coming to the apartment, Beckett had found himself stalling, killing time since his flight had arrived. He’d stopped to grab a bite to eat at a steakhouse in San Diego, thankful that he’d finally been able to put food inside his stomach. He wasn’t sure he’d eaten a full meal since the night Julian had broken his news.
Beckett’s melancholy attitude had him spending a couple of hours in the restaurant, not wanting to come to this empty apartment. It all felt so final.
The internal beratement that had started days ago hit Beckett again like a sledgehammer to his brain. His crazy thoughts careened from why in the world he’d thought he would ever be enough to keep a vibrantly beautiful man like Julian to what a sucker he’d been to think he could hang in the prestigious world of Reservations. Why was he always so damned naive?
He scanned the small space. It was tidy, with nothing out of place except for a folded piece of paper with his truck keys on top. He went there, dropping the house key on the small center island then reached for a note with his name scribbled on top in Julian’s efficient penmanship.
B,
I’m truly sorry for hurting you. In time you’ll see it’s better this way. Stay as long as you like. There’s no reason to drive all night.
Call me next week when you can talk.
X,
J
Dammit. Beckett was so damned fucked. As hard as it was to come to this apartment, it was equally as difficult to leave. With a heavy thump, his fist dropped to the countertop. The note floated out of his fingers.
Beckett turned and surveyed the condo. He had a sense of home being with Julian’s furnishings. What if he did stay the night? Pathetic, yes, but no one needed to know. Why he’d let himself even consider being one of Julian’s men. One of many paying Julian money to spend time with him. He couldn’t, not after everything they shared.