Page 123 of Pretty Mess

“What did you do with it?”

I don’t want to admit what happened, but when he raises one eyebrow, I sigh. “I didn’t spend it. I gave it back to him.”

“What the fuck?Wes!”

I hold up my hand. “I didn’t need it. He gives me far too much already.”

“There’s no such thing as being paid too much,” he says simply.

“That’s what you really think?”

“It’s what Iknow. What did he say when you gave him the money back? I wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that little revelation.”

“He was surprised, and I think he was a bit bothered.” It’s such a relief to talk about this with him.

“I bet.” He gives a short laugh. “But then I think you’ve come as a surprise all round.”

“How? I mean, I?—”

We both look up as the door opens, and I blink as Brandon enters the room. He briefly looks at Julian and then turns to me. “Hello,” he says.

I nod. “Evening,” I say warily.

He comes nearer, and up close, he’s even more stunning—like he rolled off a production line for perfect people. “You’re with Cormac, aren’t you?” he says. Even his voice is lovely, husky and very posh.

“Who?” I say blankly. “Oh. Sorry, you mean Mac. Yes, I am. Why?”

He stares at me. “You call him Mac?”

“Erm, yes.”

A beat of silence drops until Julian stirs. “Can we help you?” he asks, his tone in no way promising help.

I nudge him. “Sorry,” I tell Brandon. “My name’s Wes. And you’re Brandon, right?”

He doesn’t respond to my introduction. Instead, he narrows his eyes and takes a slow step toward me, his broad shoulders tense under the fine fabric of his suit coat. “How is Cormac?” he asks in that same low, husky voice.

He’s rather intense, and I’m not sure how to respond. “You were just talking to him,” I finally say. “Why didn’t you ask him yourself?”

He shrugs. “He’d never admit if anything was wrong.” There’s a wealth of knowledge in that statement. I swallow hard and he steps closer. “I just want to know that he’s okay. Last time I saw him, he wasn’t sleeping.”

He raises his chin and gives me a cool stare, as though he’s communicating something more than simple concern for Mac. That ominous icy chill I’d felt earlier tingles down my spine.

“And when was that?” I ask.

“When I last saw him?”

I nod.

“Last year.”

Before I can acknowledge any feeling of relief at this news, Brandon adds, “In our flat.”

My breath freezes in my lungs, and I reach unsteadily for the counter.In our flat.What did that mean? Does he mean the flat thatI’mcurrently living in, and if so?—

“What are you talking about?” Julian slices sharply through my panic spiral.

Brandon spreads his hands. “I’m asking after Cormac, because I once had an arrangement with him. We had a flat together, and the last time I saw him, he wasn’t doing very well. Insomnia, you know.” He glances at me with his cool blue eyes.