Page 104 of Total Creative Control

Although Aaron had probably been glad to see the back of him after the pathetic scene he’d made this morning.

Lewis groaned, pressing the heel of one hand against his forehead as if he could erase the memory of his stupid fucking drama-queen confession.

Why the fuck had he told Aaron about that? He’d never toldanyoneabout that night at the hospital. Nobody knew his shame except Owen.

And now Aaron, whose first instinct had been to hug him and offer tea and toast.

Lewis’s throat tightened, eyes filling. Shit. In the back of a fuckingUber?

He breathed deeply through his nostrils, caught the driver flicking a wary glance at him in the rear-view mirror, and turned to stare out of the side window at the buildings whipping past.

His phone rang.

Stupidly, his heart lurched in a spasm of hope that it was Aaron. Fumbling his phone out of his pocket, he almost threw it out the window when he saw Charlie Alexander’s name flash up on the screen.

Over the last few weeks, Charlie had started calling himall the fucking timeto ‘thought-shower’ his hackneyed ideas forBrahmins. And Lewis had to humour him, had to pretend to take his crap ideas seriously, because otherwise Charlie would throw his toys out of the pram.

Even so, he declined the call.

He couldn’t deal with Charlie today. Or any day, really, but especially not today.

Eventually, the car pulled up outside Warrington House. Lewis muttered his thanks and climbed out. The door was barely shut before the driver pulled away from the curb. Lewis trudged up the steps into the foyer of his mansion block, nodded to the porter on duty, and climbed the staircase to his third-floor flat.

Halfway up, his phone pinged. Charlie again. Lewis ignored the message.

Inside his flat, it was very quiet, and he hesitated in the entryway after the front door closed behind him, not quite sure what to do next. His ears were ringing, mind still racing, and in the heavy silence, he could hear the thumping of his own heartbeat.

He felt distinctly, painfully alone.

Forcing himself to move, he dumped the leather trenchcoat in the hall cupboard and headed through the living room into his bedroom. On the way, his eyes snagged on the white rug that Aaron had helped him clean the day they went to Safehaven.

Lewis hadn’t known then that the world was about to collapse around his ears.

On autopilot, he stripped off his clothes, dumped them in the laundry basket, and padded into the bathroom. He avoided his reflection in the mirror, had no desire to look himself in the eye.

Turning the water up to full power, making it as hot as he could bear, he set about washing away the traces of sweat and come from the night before.

Unfortunately, his mind was harder to clear.

I do know you… We already have an intimate relationship, Lewis; we’ve had one for the last three years.

That was bollocks. Work relationships weren’t the same as personal relationships, whatever Aaron might think. And anyway, Aarondidn’tknow him. How could he? Lewis was very careful about what he shared with the world.

Until this morning.

Fuck knows why he’d confessed his darkest secret to Aaron, the one person whose good opinion mattered to him. But he seemed to be making a lot of bad decisions around Aaron these days...

Still feeling raw, he dressed in his softest jeans and his favourite cashmere sweater. Unhelpfully, his mind reminded him that it was the same sweater he’d worn that evening in Swanage, when he’d almost kissed Aaron on the beach beneath the stars…

Mooching into the kitchen, he put the kettle on and grabbed a jar of instant hot chocolate, spooning twice as much powder into the mug as the instructions suggested. As the water heated, Lewis gazed out over the street, unseeing.

Usually, after a satisfying sexual adventure like last night, he’d feel energised. Up for anything. But today he just felt...empty. Blank.

On the counter, his phone buzzed again. His heart gave another pathetic lurch, and he glanced down to see a message from Charlie fucking Alexander.

Need to speak to you, Lew. Brain’s popping! Call me?

Lew? Fuck no.