Page 31 of A Cold Hard Truth

“A courtesy position.”

“The college has my name on it,” Sebastian snapped.

“Names are useless, you know that. Character is worth more. Callahan, for example, his name means nothing to Jace. In fact, it would probably be a deterrent more than anything.” Remington traced his finger around the rim of his wine glass, staring at the pale liquid inside. “Much like the St. George name.”

“You’re painfully rude sometimes,” Sebastian interjected.

Remington sighed. “Comes with that sort of education we both had, I’m sure.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, and Remington moved the conversation along.“Don’t get any ideas,” he said, finishing off his drink, “I’m nothing like you.”

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago,” he answered.

“Is your family from money?”

“My family is from…” he stopped himself and set down his glass to change course. “It doesn’t matter because, unlike you, I am not my family.”

Sebastian gave him a lingering glance, his shoulders settling and his body relaxing. He picked at the salad, eating more than he was drinking, which made Remington smile. Thinking about the way vodka and champagne had practically oozed out of Sebastian’s pores after brunch the weekend before, the moderation seemed to be a nice change.

“I’m not either,” Sebastian said quietly before taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile worthy of a socialite. “I’m getting divorced.”

“I know,” Remington said, having been told by Jace more than once about the entire weekend in Mallardsville, the issues between Callahan and Rhys, and Sebastian, the youngest St. George brother.

“And last weekend you said you’re dating men.”

“Not really.” Sebastian looked down. “I mean, I’d like to.”

“Harder in practice than in theory?”

Sebastian nodded, and Remington fought back a grimace.

“Agreed like a man who’s never had to work a day in his life.”

“I’ve worked,” Sebastian snapped, leveling a cruel and familiar glare across the table.

Instead of that tone causing Remington to cower, he found himself straightening, his chest full of breath and his stare pointed head on at Sebastian. He’d spent years being scared of that tone of voice, those kinds of words and accusations, but that reaction didn’t serve him anymore.

A month ago, he might have caved. He would have laughed awkwardly and talked too much and tried to diffuse the situation with a joke or a story, but not now. Remington had been given, or rather he’dfoundthe gift of confidence. Of faith. Of worth.

He wasn’t so bold as to pretend his online engagements would amount to anything real, especially after his last request to Allan had been ignored, but Remington had done the hard part. He’d asked. And before that, he’d told, he’d instructed, he’d even commanded, and to that… he’d been obeyed.

Remington had more power in his words, in his hands, than the boys who had taunted him and teased him his whole life, and Allan had given him a place to use it, to try and find comfort and satisfaction in it. And if not Allan in the future, there would be someone else. Of that, Remington was sure.

It was easier than he thought, he realized, to embrace the secret parts of himself that yearned for control. He’d even done it with Sebastian.

Apologize.

Eat.

Against his leg, Remington’s half hard cock was a sturdy reminder he had control of his own life, and it wouldn’t take much for him to control someone else. Sebastian had never struck him as the type to submit or yield, and yet he had, maybe without even noticing. These changes, these revelations—they were thrilling, and yet…

Nothing more than another accident in the series of events that had framed Remington Dockery’s life into what it was.

He picked up the bottle of wine and poured himself another glass, stare falling to the contents of Sebastian’s glass.

“Finish up,” he said, and Sebastian did, obediently tilting his head back and pouring the moderately priced Sauv Blanc straight down his throat. He licked his lips after he swallowed, and Remington’s cock was suddenly more than half hard. Sebastian held out his glass, but it wavered in the air and he quickly set it down, tucking his hands beneath the table.