“What’s wrong? Not the Good Samaritan you thought I was?” Damon asked, voice tight.

“No, you’re not! And I think I’m allowed to be a bit tiffed that the man-” …who Micah had been falling for… “-who offered me this amazing job opportunity – this golden ticket off the streets – is involved in organized crime.”

Not just “involved”, but the fucking ringleader.

Micah huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’m also pissed at myself because… because it doesn’t even disgust me, not like it should. Because even though my brain is telling me you’re a bad, bad man, I also can’t ignore the fact that you gave me the coat off your back when we first met. Or that you fretted over me every time we ran into each other after that. Or that you told me you wanted to be a baker when you were a kid. Or that you made me the most delicious pancakes-”

“-crepes-” Damon corrected thoughtlessly, seemingly surprised Micah wasn’t still berating him.

“-crepes,” Micah deadpanned, shooting the man a glare.

Damon looked contrite… and hopeful.

As little sense as it made, Micah didn’t want to squash that hope. Yet, logically and ethically, he didn’t see how he couldn’t. Micah sighed. ““I guess I’m having a hard time differentiating between the two versions of you I have in my head.”

Damon shook his head. “You can’t. Because I am both of those men. One doesn’t exist without the other, but Micah… it doesn’t have to change anything between us.”

Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up Micah’s throat. “It changes everything,” he disagreed.

“I had you sign the NDA in case you overheard anything… unsavory about that aspect of my life when we were together. But my plan from the beginning was to keep you separated – away – from all of that,” Damon implored. “You only need to accompany me to events associated with my lawful endeavors – charity galas and business trips, mostly – and an occasional family dinner. When you’re with me, you’ll be protected at all times. I swear to you, I would never risk your safety.”

Yes, because that was what Micah was worried about. (Although, to be fair, he probably should have been – but he’d always played fast and loose with his own well-being.)

“That doesn’t change the fact that any money you would pay me is dirty.”

Damon clenched his jaw, a sure sign he was losing patience. “I told you; the large majority of my business endeavors are legal.”

“Then why not just withdraw from the ones that aren’t?” Micah asked, and even he could admit the demand sounded borderline childish.

Damon heaved a sigh of frustration. “That’s not how this works. I think you know that.”