Normally he’d be appalled that he hadn’t arrived several minutes early to set up the meeting room. He was terribly critical of tardiness in others. But that morning he couldn’t summon the energy to care. Was this burnout? Midlife crisis? Dash tempting him to a life of sin? He wasn’t sure he’d mind if it was the latter. The sins Dash came up with were well worth the price of his soul.

But he held more shares than any other partner, so he had to set an example. Friday would come eventually, and he’d have his fun with Dash. Right now, he needed to focus on what was important, not on frivolous pleasures.

***

RILEY’S PHONE STARTED ringing as he walked through the door of his apartment. He’d been baking with Susan for the last six hours. He was exhausted and covered in flour despite the apron he’d worn. All he wanted was a shower. He pulled his phone from his pocket, hoping he could ignore whoever was calling. It was Marc. He’d been avoiding Marc’s calls since Friday, texting him back, saying he’d call later.

He had to talk to him eventually. Maybe if he sounded as exhausted as he felt, he could beg off before they got too deep into a conversation about Thorne. Riley knew it was a bad sign that he didn’t want to talk about Thorne. But what had happened Friday night with Thorne—the dinner as much as the intense sex—was special and private and the best fucking “date” Dash (and Riley too for that matter) had ever had. If only Thorne wasn’t a fucking client.

Riley flopped onto a kitchen chair and accepted the call. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Wow! You actually deigned to answer. Should I be honored?”

“I’ve been busy. You know I’m working as much as I can to save for school. Between that and baking, I’m worn out.” Riley was lying. While that had been his intention, Thorne had tipped him so well, he’d hardly taken any other clients.

“Clients taking it out of you?” Marc asked, his tone lascivious as usual.

“Sucking me dry every time,” Riley returned.

“Oh, poor baby. Soooo, tell me about Thorne.”

“You already know what he’s like.” Riley winced. He hadn’t meant his comment to sound as snappy as it did.

“Uh-oh.” Riley could hear the smirk in Marc’s voice.

“What?”

“That tone. What does that mean?”

That I don’t like to think about you fucking him; that I’m…in trouble… “Nothing. What tone?”

“That one. I’m supposed to be the one who gets snippy. Dash is all cool and fun and smiling.”

Riley snorted. “You know that’s not true.”

“That’s how you are when you’re with clients. Right until you nail their asses and have them begging.”