“Why?”

Damon seemed displeased that Micah’s answer wasn’t an immediate “yes”, but at least he didn’t attempt to drag Micah off like he had the first few times they’d met. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said after a pause.

Micah narrowed his eyes. “Is- is ‘talk’ a euphuism for something else?” he asked. Oops. So much for not blurting out whatever came to mind.

“It’s regarding a business transaction,” Damon replied cautiously.

It was a complete non-answer. And considering Micah was pretty sure the man was still under the impression he was a prostitute… it could be a euphuism.

Was he really so desperate that he was going to allow Damon, a man who thought he was a hooker, use his body? It was morally questionable at best. Then Micah remembered the kiss they’d shared, the way Damon’s fingers had left little bruises on his hips, and how the outline of the man’s cock had felt pressed against his own aching erection.

“I…” Who the fuck was he kidding? “…okay.”

Tension visibly drained from Damon’s shoulders the moment Micah agreed. One of the man’s hands found its way to Micah’s lower back as he led him away from the crowded bar, through the throng of people on the dance floor, and to the spiral staircase that led to the second floor of the club. It was obviously a VIP section – the chained entrance and pair of black-clad bouncers guarding it was a dead-giveaway. He and Tessa, like most of the common folk drinking and dancing on the ground level of the club, hadn’t bothered trying to get in.

When they saw Damon, however, the bouncers immediately unfastened the chain and shuffled out of the way – one of the many perks of being rich, apparently.

The tequila must have hit a little harder than he thought because Micah had to focus carefully on the stairs, taking them one step at a time. (After all, no “business transaction” could take place if he fell and broke his neck.)

He only pulled his gaze away from his feet when he’d reached the top of the stairs. The second floor was comprised of a much smaller area than the main floor, taking up about half the space. Micah couldn’t concentrate enough to take in the finer details, but there was a private bar and a balcony that oversaw the floor below.

It must have been how Damon spotted him.

Micah was surprised to note that there wasn’t much more than a couple dozen people lounging on the expensive-looking furniture clumped together strategically throughout the space. Before he could attempt to take in any more of his surroundings, a woman in a flashy purple dress with a plunging neckline was suddenly marching towards them, her stride (and expression) fierce.

She was tall and beautiful, with lush lips and dark brows and hair – cut just above her shoulders in a fashionable bob. Micah might have been jealous of the familiarity that shone in her eyes as she stared Damon down, if it wasn’t obvious to him that they were somehow related. Maybe it was her general attractiveness or maybe it was the scowl, but Micah couldn’t look at her and not see Damon.