Jack had laughed, Theo remembered that so clearly. Like it was all so funny. Neglect and abuse and the little ways that he coped, laughing, rubbing at his nose, shivering in his arms, and then Jack kissed him with such fierce, violent intensity that Theo hadn’t been able to blurt out, My father locked me in our cellar, sometimes, and the back of his hand was so strong, and—

And Theo was so angry. He took Jack into him, both of them still cold, and it was rough and desperate and so, so good.

“Jesus, Theo, look at this place.”

He shook his head, eyes clearing, finally wrenching his gaze away and toward the apartment. And it was stunning. Perfect. He could kiss Genni, if he didn’t know by now that she’d slap him.

Theo glanced back at Jack’s face, comically blank with surprise, mouth hanging open, and felt a wild giggle climbing up his throat. Swallowing the undignified noise, he watched Jack enter what must have been the nicest apartment in the entire city.

He wished it were his. He drank down that bitterness, composure regained.

Dark—nearly black—hardwood floors stretched out in a large room that was floor to ceiling windows, looking out over the Baltimore skyline, the red Domino Sugar sign and the glimmer of light on the water. The space was completely open, with a large kitchen in a minimalist style taking up the left side. An island, ice-white marble with sleek black cabinets, had room for four barstools.

It should have been cold, new and unlived in, but it was fully furnished with thick rugs and plush couches, a real fireplace, open bookshelves with recessed lighting, everything seeming soft and cozy and perfect for long afternoons with endless hot cups of coffee.

It was romantic. He tried not to imagine himself spread out on the soft velvet of the couch, firelight warming his naked skin, and failed.

Across from the elevator, on the other side of the open room, was a wrought iron spiral staircase that reminded him of the metalwork in New Orleans, old and whimsical and darkly magical. Jack walked over to run his hand along the cool marble of the island, and Theo heard a very distinctive sound—

The stiletto-sharp clack of Genni’s high heels. He saw her coming down the staircase, regal as ever, fine features and a flawless tan, and he saw the look on her face when she realized who the mysterious client Theo had begged her to take really was.

“You must be joking.”

Jack’s head lifted, some tension released—it was like he was mesmerized, God, this place was perfect—until he spotted Genni. “Um, Jones?”

“Dumont, for some time now, Gardner.” She gestured in what was supposed to be a casual way, clearly showing off the massive diamond on her ring finger. The stone—three carats, if Theo recalled correctly—glimmered with iridescent fire.

“Congratulations. Um, I guess.”

She rolled her eyes in that very distinctive Genni moue of distaste and then continued in her descent down the staircase.