Page 52 of Seal the Deal
“I knew you’d need me,” Nicholas says, desperately trying to feel in control.
“Conceited asshole,” Andrew huffs. He breathes in deeply. In and out three times before continuing. “There’s so many people.”
“What kind of people?”
“Paparazzi.” The answer isn’t unexpected given what Amanda just revealed, yet it’s a gut punch all the same. She was right. This is all Nicholas’s fault. He’s fucked Andrew over. “They keep asking about you, about us. I ran to my car but they’re surrounding me so I can’t back out.”
Andrew’s voice, usually calm and collected or slightly prickly, has an unnaturally panicked tone to it that sets Nicholas’s teeth on edge. He might like to rile Andrew up and annoy him for attention, but this—Andrew sounding scared—is fucking bullshit.
“I’m coming,” Nicholas says, phone balanced between his ear and shoulder as he grabs a pair of jeans from his drawer and tugs them on. Peripherally, he’s aware of Amanda hovering in the doorway, watching him hurriedly get dressed while eavesdropping on his conversation.
“I don’t like this,” Andrew whispers. “I don’t like being trapped.”
“I know, princess. I’m going to handle this, just stay put. Don’t unlock or open the door for anyone but me.”
“Okay.” Andrew takes a deep breath, the melodic lull of classical music playing softly in the background at odds with his heavy breathing. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Me. You call me,” Nicholas says with force in his voice. “You’re in trouble, you call me, you got it?”
Andrew doesn’t answer, just turns up the music to a frankly deafening level.
“I’m coming,” Nicholas promises before the line goes dead.
“Well, that was something,” Amanda says once Nicholas has shoved his phone into his pocket, pulling on the first clean shirt in his closet. “You sounded like you care about him.”
“Fuck off, Amanda.”
Amanda hums, only serving to irritate Nicholas further. “You like him.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Nicholas insists, moving past her. To the surprise of no one, she follows behind him as he heads towards the front door.
“Yesterday wasn’t a publicity stunt gone wrong. You went to see him because you wanted to see him. Did you miss him?”
“I don’t miss people,” Nicholas protests, staring at the row of keys by his door. He grabs the ones to his BUGGATTI knowing it’ll be the fastest and the showiest. He’s going to get the attention off Andrew one way or another, and if there’s one thing Nicholas knows how to do, it’s get attention.
“That photograph,” Amanda starts, a knowing look in her eyes. “The way you were touching his neck. You?—”
“I’m leaving,” Nicholas yells, cutting her off. Her intuition and perception make her an incredible agent and a massive pain in the fucking ass when she butts into Nicholas’s personal life. “Lock the door on the way out.”
“Go get your man, asshole. I’ll text you his address!”
* * *
“Get out of the fucking way,”Nicholas yells, laying on his horn before swerving through traffic. He presses down on the gas pedal, the roar of the engine when he significantly exceeds the speed limit sending a thrill of pleasure through him.
Thankfully, there are no cops around to clock him going over ninety miles per hour. Not that he cares if he gets a ticket, but he’d be beyond pissed off if he had to waste time with some dickbag police officer with a god complex when he’d much rather be spending it on a khaki-wearing man with pretty brown eyes.
Thinking about Andrew’s eyes makes Nicholas think about other things, like his sharp jawline and full lips. Ugh, that fucker is getting under Nicholas’s skin. He needs to get laid or something. Clearly he’s just got plenty of energy.
“Move,” he yells again, weaving in and out of traffic until he spots the exit for Andrew’s place.
Despite his desire to speed through the red light he hits upon exiting, he doesn’t. Instead, he yells at everyone who has the audacity to be able to move when he can’t. Minutes later, his destination comes into view, and any worries he had about not being able to find Andrew are proven unwarranted when he spots the vultures around a red car parked along the curb out front.
Gunning his engine to garner as much attention as possible he speeds forward, before slamming his breaks hard enough to leave tire marks in the street and startle the fuckers bothering Andrew. They scurry like the pests they are.
Ignoring the flurry of questions thrown his way and the honking from people behind him for blocking traffic, he exits his car.
With hurried steps, he makes his way around the front of the car and around to Andrew’s driver side door, hyper aware of the flash of cameras and eyes of paparazzi and strangers alike. It’s not the first time Nicholas has been under this type of spotlight, but it is Andrew’s, and he tries to look at it from his point of view, acutely aware of how invasive and loud it must be for someone like Andrew who likes quiet and privacy. It’s a harsh reminder that Andrew would never date Nicholas for real, no one would. Which is exactly why he’d needed a fake boyfriend. People either crave Nicholas’s money and limelight or they’re horrified by it. Either way, it leaves Nicholas in the shadows.
