Page 5 of Private Exhibit (Gentleman Hackers #4)

DEVON TUGGED at his dress shirt—the only one he owned—trying to get it to sit just right, then shoved his hands into his pockets. He glanced over at Oliver as the two of them rode the elevator to the hospital basement.

If anything, Oliver looked more nervous than Devon felt.

“You don't have to come with me,” Devon murmured.

“Huh? Oh. Nah. It's fine. I'll be fine.” Oliver chewed his lip and stared at the panel, then shrugged, clearly trying yet failing to make it look casual. “We had to come here anyway, right?”

“Right,” Devon agreed. They were both out of testosterone vials, so they planned to stop at the pharmacy upstairs once Devon's job interview was over. That monthly errand would make the hospital familiar enough even if it weren't for Devon's frequent trips to the emergency room.

But neither of them had ever gone to this particular part of the hospital.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened on a wide, pristine hallway. Devon stepped out first, and Oliver followed a moment later. Directly across from them were two huge, swinging doors labeled Morgue Surgical Suite .

Devon gulped. He glanced to his right and saw another door labeled Viewing Room , outside of which was a small, cozy waiting area with plush chairs. Down to the left, Devon spotted a door labeled Morgue Office .

He looked at Oliver, who gave him a nod. They both turned and started to head that way when a bang startled them both.

Devon whirled around and saw the double doors opening as an empty gurney was pushed out into the hallway. A nurse rolled the gurney into the elevator car and disappeared from sight.

“Nope,” Oliver gasped. “Uh-uh. I'm out.” A visible shudder ran through him, and he took a step away.

“I'll wait for you upstairs,” he blurted out in a rush, barely glancing at Devon as he dashed for the elevator, only to stop short, hesitate, then whirl around.

Oliver practically ran for the stairwell at the other end of the hallway.

Devon winced as the stairwell door closed.

Poor Oli . He rocked where he stood, then realized what he was doing and forced himself to stop.

Devon took a deep breath and blew it out heavily.

Alright. You can do this . He strode over to the morgue office and paused.

The door was shut, and Devon could just make out two voices inside: one higher-pitched and chipper, while the other was deep and gruff.

Devon looked around. There was nowhere to sit, so he pressed his back to the wall directly across from the door and settled in to wait.

Barely a minute later, the door flew open. The overhead lights started flickering as a young man strode out of the office in a hurry, muttering under his breath, “Prick.”

Devon stared. He couldn't help it. If he thought Hayden Ross was beautiful, this guy was on a whole other level.

Where Hayden had a sexy, sinful allure, this one had an ethereal beauty that simply took one's breath away.

Flawless skin. Shiny, golden curls. An angelic face.

Devon squirmed, feeling wholly inadequate by comparison.

The young man gave a start at the sight of him, then smiled wryly.

He took a slow, deep breath, and the lights went back to normal.

“Sorry about that,” he said, gesturing at the ceiling.

“I have a hard time controlling my power when I get all worked up.” Before Devon could ask what he meant, the young man went on, “You here to interview?”

Devon nodded.

“Well, good luck. He's all yours. The girl who interviewed before me?

She came out in tears, and now I know why.

And I really need a job. Well, second job.

Although, technically, third job, though I'm not supposed to talk about the second one, and I probably shouldn't have even said that much,” the young man went on with a laugh, “but not if the boss is gonna be a total asshole, you know what I mean?”

From inside the office, a gruff voice barked out, “ Are you here to interview? ”

Devon winced. Oh gods . What had he gotten himself into?

The beautiful young man rolled his eyes and repeated, “Good luck.” He strode away, leaving the door standing wide open, giving Devon a clear view into the room.

“ I'm waiting ,” the gruff voice added.

Devon gave a start, then let out a shaky breath and walked into the room, looking down at the floor as he went. Look up. Look up. You can do it . Devon slowly forced his gaze up, intending to make himself hold eye-contact, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

The first thing he noticed was the chaos.

He could hardly even see the desk itself for all the files and tablets strewn across the surface.

Devon shuddered. Gods . He itched to straighten them all.

To organize them. It took everything he had to keep his hands at his sides rather than reaching out.

Bracing himself, he forced his gaze up beyond the mess, hoping he'd be able to focus.

He stopped with a squeak of surprise when he saw who was sitting behind the desk.

The man wore scrubs, completely changing the context of him in Devon's mind, but the face was unmistakable.

It was one that Devon would never forget as long as his soul existed.

That sense of familiarity teased him again, but Devon still couldn't place him.

Just seeing him there was simply too much.

“Oh my gods,” Devon gasped, feeling his cheeks start to burn.

The man blinked, then slowly looked up at him, the frown vanishing from his face as his eyes went wide. “You,” he whispered, staring at Devon.

Devon gulped. Holy shit . It was the man from the club. What the hells were the chances? Was it coincidence or fate? Devon shook his head. He'd had a lot of that in his life. Especially recently.

The man kept staring at him. “I thought I'd never see you again.”

Devon's breath caught. “You–” he began, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You wanted to see me?”

“Like you wouldn't believe–”

“ Knock knock ,” someone called, stepping into the office. Devon gave a start and whirled around to find a man wearing an expensive suit. “Sorry to interrupt,” he told Devon, then turned to the man behind the desk. “Doctor Gerard. Just thought I'd come see how things were going. Mind if I sit in?”

Devon frowned. Doctor Gerard? Something about that name felt important, but he couldn't figure out why, too overwhelmed by the sight of the man from the club. By the intense memory of what they'd shared.

Dr. Gerard gave the newcomer a blank stare of annoyance. “Like I could stop you.”

The other man replied with a wry smile, then turned to Devon and quickly shook his hand. “Harel Bokin. I own the hospital.”

“Um.” Devon tried to force the puzzle aside and focus on the moment. One thing at a time. You don't have to think about anything else right now. Just get through this . “Devon Campbell.”

“Please,” Mr. Bokin said, gesturing at the chairs in front of the desk.

Devon slowly sat, glancing from Dr. Gerard to Mr. Bokin and back.

A long, awkward silence passed. The doctor scowled at his boss, then turned and looked at something over Devon's right shoulder. He pressed his lips together as though fighting the urge to laugh, then cleared his throat and focused on Devon.

“Right. So.” Dr. Gerard looked down, jabbed uselessly at a tablet, then shoved the device aside with a huff before looking back up. “Sorry. I'm still trying to figure out how to ID that guy from yesterday,” he said, hooking a thumb towards an open doorway that led into the surgical suite. “Uh–”

A phone rang, interrupting him. Mr. Bokin stood, muttering an apology. He answered his mobile as he stepped out into the hallway.

Dr. Gerard watched him go, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Why did you run away the other night?” he asked.

Devon felt a blush take over his face. Oh gods . “Um.” He pressed his knees together and clasped his hands tightly on his lap, struggling not to let himself rock.

“Did you regret–”

Devon gasped. “No! Gods, no.” Devon shook his head. “That was the best experience of my life,” he blurted out, then felt his cheeks go hot again.

The doctor's expression softened, a hint of a smile starting to show on his face. He slowly stood and stepped around the desk. There was something predatory about the movement. Almost a prowl.

Devon shivered and had to bite back a moan. The man simply radiated confidence and power. It was glorious. It took everything Devon had not to drop to his knees right then and there.

Dr. Gerard shoved a stack of files out of the way and perched on the corner of his desk, quickly eyeing his boss in the hallway before leaning down over Devon. “So why did you leave?” he whispered.

Devon opened his mouth to answer, then hesitated, his heart sinking.

Shit . He was going to have to tell the man about his disease, and that would ruin everything.

Not that there was anything to ruin, really.

It wasn't like they were anything more to one another than a simple, anonymous scene.

Still, once he said it, the man would want nothing to do with him, neither for a job nor for anything else.

Before he could say a word, Mr. Bokin came back in, apologizing for the interruption.

Dr. Gerard stood up, breaking the intimacy of the moment, but it didn't make it any easier for Devon to breathe.

“So,” Mr. Bokin said, eyeing Dr. Gerard before turning to Devon, “tell us a little about yourself. You have Tanasian blood, first of all, yes? So you can see ghosts?”

“Um, yes,” Devon replied, then blushed. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, I'm part Tanasian, but I can't see ghosts, actually. Not anymore. I had that ability taken away when I was a kid.”

Dr. Gerard visibly tensed. “Taken away, how?” he asked through clenched teeth.