Page 60 of Total Creative Control

“Marvellous!” Toni beamed. “Isn’t that marvellous, Aaron?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said gamely. “I’m mostly veggie myself, actually.”

“Good man,” Charlie said. “And with only alittlemore effort, you could go totally plant-based. Wouldn’t that be great? The planet would love you.”

“Your partner probably wouldn’t.” Geoff chuckled darkly, sloshing his large tumbler of whisky. “All that fermented crap Milly eats makes her fart like a heifer.”

“Geoffrey!” Cheeks scarlet, Milly walloped his arm.

“Well, it’s true,” Geoff objected. “Beans, beans, good for the heart, the more you eat, the more you—”

In a literal example of being saved by the bell, a sonorous bong reverberated around the room.

“Ah, the dinner gong,” said Charlie, jumping to his feet. “Giorgio’s prepared an outstanding eight-course vegan tasting menu, so we need to start early.” With a flourish, he bowed them towards a door that now stood open on the far side of the room. “Please, join me, and let our gastronomic odyssey begin…”

He offered his arm to Milly, and they paraded out together, leaving Toni and Geoff to trail after them with all the enthusiasm of the condemned heading for a picnic at the gallows. With a sigh, Lewis set his glass down. He was about to follow Toni when Aaron touched his arm, stopping him.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he said quietly.

He may have said more than that, but Lewis could only seem to focus on the comfort of Aaron’s hand on his forearm, on the sight of his long fingers resting on Lewis’s bare skin. Since when had Aaron touched him like that? Or at all?

“I’ll try,” Lewis managed eventually, jerking his eyes up to Aaron’s face when he realised he was staring. “But he’ssucha wanker.”

“I know.” Aaron didn’t let go. In fact his grip tightened. “Look, I don’t know what was in your drink, but mine was, like, ninety-percent proof.”

“Same.” He glanced at his empty glass, aware now of a definite fuzziness in his head.

“So maybe slow down?” Aaron suggested gently. “You don’t want to end up saying or doing something you might regret.”

“You mean, like punching Charlie in the face?”

“Exactly like that.”

Lewis smiled; he liked that Aaron was concerned. He liked the softness in his grey eyes when he looked at him. And he liked gazing into them. It made him feel… Whatwasthat feeling? Sort of warm and cosy and content. Was it…? Was thathappiness?

Fuck knew.

It was probably just the booze. But still, he enjoyed the sensation. “Don’t worry,” he said, setting his own hand over Aaron’s where it still rested on his arm. “I won’t—”

And then he saw the flush rising in Aaron’s cheeks and a gleam of something in his eyes. Longing, maybe. Or maybe Lewis was just projecting his own feelings.

He let go abruptly—Fuck, get a grip, Hunter—and cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, try not to punch anyone.”

“Right.” Aaron dropped his gaze, flexing the fingers that had held Lewis’s arm. “Good.” With a strained smile, he added, “I suppose we’d better get in there.”

Lewis grimaced. “And may God have mercy on our stomachs.”

Chapter Fifteen

Aaron

By the fifth course, the evening was on a definite downhill trajectory. In fact, it resembled the final stages of a particularly aggressive Olympic bobsleigh run.

It wasn’t that the food was unpalatable, Aaron thought, as he gazed down at yet another exquisitely presented morsel—this one was a tiny portion of black rice and fermented white bean puree, arranged on his plate like a yin and yang symbol—it was that Charlie was getting more obnoxious, and Lewis more riled, as the evening wore on.

“And what I love about LA,” Charlie was gushing now, “is that they don’t give a crap about who your parents were, you know? In America, everyone is self-made. Everyone is equal.”

“Bollocks,” Lewis said, poking miserably at his rice. He’d hardly eaten a bite all evening and had become increasingly curmudgeonly as the night progressed.