Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“How do you know him?”
“Long story.”
“Ex?”
Surprise made him lift his head. “Fuck no, he’s straight.”
Ansel’s blond brows rose. “Coulda fooled me.”
Rafe’s heated gaze flashed in Hop’s mind, but he shoved it away. “Believe me. He had a serious girlfriend back when—before.” She’d had long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and freckles. She’d looked like an angel. “They’re probably married by now.” Something slithered in Hop’s stomach and he closed his eyes until the sickening feeling passed.
Ansel let it drop. “So, not a boyfriend then. Why the hell is he so pissed to see you here?”
Hop unzipped his boots as a distraction. He’d take any excuse to avoid their eyes when he confessed. “Roland Lockwood.”
“We’ll need a little more, sugar.” Tam knelt to help.
With one deep breath, Hop looked up. If he could face down Rafe’s vehemence, he was certainly brave enough to confront his friends with the truth.
“My father is Roland Lockwood, the billionaire, New York royalty, Rafe’s mentor and biggest investor.”
Silence dropped like a closing curtain while Hop watched his news sink in.
“Sorry, but you just blew my mind.” Ansel leaned against the makeup counter.
“You’re a billionaire?” Z asked.
Hop couldn’t stop the sarcastic snort as he tossed his leather pieces to the floor. “No. My father is. I’m a bastard, the product of a premarital affair. He wants nothing to do with me.” It was an understatement, but he couldn’t explain everything his father had done to ensure Hop was never heard and never seen. Completely invisible.
Worse, nonexistent.
Understanding dawned in his friends’ faces. Hop ducked his head as he took off his stockings, avoiding their pity.
No matter how he’d rebelled, no matter what he did to get attention, his father had ignored him.
Rafe was there, though. Rafe had been the one to see Hop at his lowest. Rafe had been the one to shout. Rafe had taken care of everything. Rafe cleaned up the mess.
Rafe.
The guy who’d kept him away from his own father. The obstacle Hop had never gotten around was still blocking his path.
It wasn’t Roland’s attention he sought now, though.
Hop just wanted to dance.
* * *
Rafe took a moment in the restroom to splash water on his face.
As much as he wanted to say fuck it and cancel the rest of the auditions or leave it in Mark’s capable hands, he was an adult and such irresponsibility wasn’t his style. It was one thing to have a moment of weakness and allow emotions to override his better judgment, it was another to give in to the tightening in his stomach and wallow in old fears.
The past was the past for a reason. Seven years ago, he’d made a decision and changed his life forever. Because of Hopkins. What he was fighting for now stemmed from that one moment.
Hopkins had a way of turning Rafe’s world upside down, and he’d come too far and worked too hard getting to this point. Emotions wouldn’t muddle things this time. He’d grown out of his sentimentality and had found focus in business.
He ignored his friend’s curious stare as he took his seat again.
“Thanks for waiting.” Rafe’s voice came out gruffer than he’d intended, but he kept his face relaxed as if he was perfectly at ease when, in fact, he was anything but.
His mind raced, his guts twisted, his fucking palms wouldn’t stop itching. His fingers ached, fucking ached with remembered heat.
Why had Hopkins’s skin been so fucking soft? Why had the guy smelled so fucking good—yes, sweet like sugar. Just like he’d suspected.
Damn it.
When had he grown out his hair, colored it? When had he started wearing makeup? How the hell had he learned to dance like that? Where had he been? What had he been doing?
Endless questions wormed inside Rafe’s brain and nothing could dig them out.
He barely paid attention to the rest of the acts, but clapped when Mark clapped and kept his usual aloof air around him like a shield. There was a thick tension in the club, even the performers seemed to know something big had gone down. They were skittish enough that Mark eventually elbowed him.
“Stop glaring or leave, you’re freaking people out.”
“I’m not glaring.”
Mark scoffed. “What I wouldn’t give for a mirror right now. Christ, Rafe, you look like you’re going to tear everyone a new asshole and I’m not speaking figuratively. I don’t know why Hop’s presence ticked you off or how you know each other, but your attitude isn’t putting the talent at ease. They keep making ridiculous mistakes, have you even noticed?”
He hadn’t. Rafe pressed his lips together, doing his best to calm down.
“Seriously, man, are you okay?” Mark’s tone changed completely, now he sounded concerned, which pissed Rafe off.
“Fuck off, I’m fine.” Rafe straightened and blew out a breath as the next act came out. He tried to smile, but from Mark’s snort he guessed he’d failed miserably.