Thorne rolled onto his back and reached out blindly, slapping his hand down until he found his phone on the nightstand. He clicked it on, the light from the screen like a needle to his eye. When he managed to read the numbers, they inexplicably said 7:10 a.m. Had they slept all night? “It’s after seven.”

“Well, fuck me.”

“Not now. I’m going back to sleep.”

Dash glared at him. “What have you done with the real Thorne?”

“Hmmm?”

“You didn’t work last night, and now you’re going to sleep in?”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

“Oooh, is Mr. Workaholic not a morning person?”

“No.” Thorne pulled the covers over his head. The mattress dipped, and he heard footsteps as he drifted back to sleep.

***

Thorne had no idea how much time had passed since he’d last woken, but someone was shaking him. “Go the fuck away,” he mumbled.

“Do you want coffee? I’m going to get some.”

Coffee? “Oh God, yes.”

“I’d make breakfast, but there isn’t any food.”

Thorne reached for the nightstand again and found his wallet. He pulled out a stack of bills and tossed them in the direction of Dash’s voice. “Go get some fucking groceries and let me sleep.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Later, he’d do something about that snarky tone. He pulled out his key card and tossed it in the same direction. “Here’s my key. Take that too.”

CHAPTER NINE

Dash stared at the key in his hand, surprised Thorne trusted him with it. Maybe he was just too sleepy to care. If so, Dash hoped he didn’t make a habit of having random men over. Marc said Thorne never slept with anyone but escorts at least as far as he could tell. Dash hoped that was true.

“Why are you still here?”

Dash laughed as he pulled on the clothes he’d worn last night. “Because I can’t go out there naked.”

Dash scurried through the lobby, waving to the doorman as he exited. It was a different man from the one who usually let him in. He must have the day shift. This man gave Dash a look of disdain instead of returning his greeting. Dash glanced down at himself and realized his pants were wrinkled and he’d missed a button on his shirt. Oh well, so much for first impressions.

He pulled out his phone and used it to find the closest market. Twenty minutes later, he was back with ingredients for omelets and carrot muffins. But when he reached the door, the unknown doorman blocked his way. “This is a private building, sir.”

“Yes, I know. I just came out a few minutes ago.”

“Who are you here to see?”