Page 150 of Seal the Deal
“Damn right.”
Contented, happy and truly relaxed, Andrew rests his face in the crook of Nicki’s neck and finally, fucking finally, lets go.
21NICHOLAS
B. Whitmore
Don’t be late. There’s a lot riding on tonight. I expect you to pretend you care about this family and its name.
Staringat the text from his father, Nicholas has the urge to throw his phone at the wall to watch it shatter.
All day, he’s done an incredible job of ignoring why he and Andrew are in New York. He’s put all his focus where it belongs—on Andrew. Giving him a massage in bed, ordering room service, wining and dining his man at the nicest places on the upper East side.
Experiencing Andrew’s unbridled pleasure at the simple luxuries Nicki grew up with left him resolved to spoil the fuck out of this man any chance he gets.
All day, everything had been going great, playing tourist and making memories, until reality crashed back in when Andrew started asking questions about the party tonight.What should he expect? What were Nicholas’s parents like? Has he ever brought anyone to meet them? What did they know about Andrew?
All perfectly reasonable questions for a man to ask before meeting his boyfriend’s parents. Given Andrew’s need for information and control, he’d shown incredible restraint in holding off on the questions until the last minute. Except suddenly, just hours away from this, Nicholas wasn’t sure he wanted it to happen anymore. He’d orchestrated this entire thing to get back at his father, to emotionally one up him up, but faced with letting that horrible man meet Andrew, he isn’t sure it’s worth it. He knows Andrew can hold his own, won’t hold any of it against Nicki, but it made his skin crawl.
He’d pushed it all aside, focusing on the practical things he could explain to Andrew—his father loved cognac, his mother loved anything she could get drunk on, they had charities everywhere but cared about no one but themselves. The more he shared, the sadder Andrew’s eyes got until he’d requested they return to the hotel and nap.
Nicholas hadn’t fallen asleep, but he’d pretended, letting Andrew hold him and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. They’d stayed in bed so long, they’d ended up taking separate bathrooms to get ready. Nicholas finished first, depositing himself on the end of the bed to wait and see what Andrew would be wearing tonight. He’d all but convinced himself everything would be fine when the text from his father came, reminding him what his father’s priorities always have been and always would be—appearances.
“Are you ready?” Andrew yells from the bathroom.
“So fucking ready,” Nicholas answers, pocketing his phone, ready to forget about his father. And forget he does when Andrew steps out of the bathroom looking like a fucking work of art. His thick waves have been tamed, his part swooped to the side and gelled back in a style that draws attention to his thick brows and sharp features. His suit is definitely something custom from Denise, the modern style highlightinghis trim figure, and the rich purple color highlighting his dark complexion.
Andrew King is the most singularly beautiful man Nicholas has ever laid eyes upon. How did he ever not see it? He was a fucking self-centered dick, that’s how. Well, he sees it now, and he knows what a fucking lucky man he is.
“You’re staring,” Andrew huffs.
Despite his words, Andrew’s cheeks darken. His princess is such a fickle creature, so insecure yet so desperate for praise. Well, Nicki is going to spoil him in that too. Someone this perfect deserves to know it.
“Give me a spin.”
“No.”
“Come on then.” Nicholas stands, holding out his hand. “Give me a twirl, princess.”
Andrew grumbles but lays his hand in Nicholas's, allowing himself to be turned. The back is as good as the front, and Nicholas spins him a second time, only stopping when Andrew swats his chest.
“You’re going to make me dizzy.”
“Sorry.”
“Wait,” Andrew says, his easy smile slipping. “Why are you wearing that?”
“Because it’s my father, and we’ve got to dress up.”
“No, why are you wearing atuxedo,” Andrew corrects. “Nicholas Whitmore, was this a black tie affair?”
Nicki frowns. “Call me Nicki.”
“Fine, Nicki. Was this a black tie party?”
“Fuck if I know, I didn’t read the invitation. I threw it in the trash the day it came in the mail.”
“Then why are you in a tux?” Andrew asks accusatorially.
