Page 70 of Total Creative Control

Toni didn’t smile. In fact she pursed her lips as she locked her door and slipped the key into her bag. “It’s not a battle, Lewis. That is, it’s not a battle we can win. And I’m not planning to die on any creative hills today.” She fixed him with a level look. “God knows Charlie’s an arse, but you have to compromise; you’ve got no choice if you want this deal. And you do want this deal, don’t you? Not just for RPP, I mean, but foryou.”

She was watching him intently.

He sighed. “Yeah, I do.”

She nodded. “Okay then. I still think, if we play our cards right, we’ll get some concessions from him.”

Lewis didn’t answer because he knew she was right. There was more at stake than his personal pride, and he didn’t intend to torpedo a deal that could net RPP a pretty penny and launch his own career Stateside. Even so, the thought of giving in to Charlie’s demands about Faolán’s sexuality rankled in ways he couldn’t begin to unpick. “I still don’t like it, though,” was all he said.

“I know. But we’ve talked about this. We’ll find a way you can live with it.”

While they were talking, Aaron had slipped away and was walking ahead of them towards the long gallery. As Lewis and Toni followed, Lewis found his gaze riveted on Aaron’s lean figure, on his long legs and shapely arse. An arse he now knew intimately. Christ, had it only been hours ago that they’d been naked in each other’s arms? Last night already felt like it belonged to another life, another world. It could have been a dream, except that Aaron couldn’t even look at him now, and that was a nightmare. One that left Lewis feeling afraid and alone.

Fuck. He looked away, shocked by the sudden ache in his throat.

Beside him, in a taut voice, Toni said, “Everything all right this morning?”

“Yes, of course,” he snapped. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well.” She gave him an odd look. “Because of the...migraine, yesterday?”

“Oh.” He frowned, embarrassed that she’d witnessed his… He wasn’t even sure what had happened, only that Aaron had known to get him out of there. Aaron had taken care of him, and in return Lewis had fucked everything up. He set his jaw, pushing the distressing thought aside. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Those fucking cocktails…”

Toni seemed content to buy the half-lie. “God, yes. Charlie was—Well, I ended up bailing early, too. He’s an ugly drunk.” More seriously, she added, “Keep your head in the game today, Lewis. No distractions.”

“My headisin the fucking game.”

Her gaze drifted to Aaron and back, her look weighted. “And what about Aaron?”

“What about Aaron? He’s fine.”

“Darling, he looks like he’s been sucker-punched.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And the tension between the pair of you is so thick I could stand a spoon up in it.”

“Aaron’sfine,” Lewis repeated. At least, he would be fine. He had to be. Once they’d left this fucking house of horrors and got back to the office, he’d be fine.They’dbe fine. Aaron would smile at him again, and roll his eyes, and everything would go back to normal.

Toni gave a sceptical huff. “I hope you’re right, Lewis.”

When they reached Charlie’s office, Aaron was waiting for them at the door. He did look tense, but they were all tense. He looked pale too, and strained. Lewis fought back an inappropriate urge to rub his back or squeeze his shoulder, to hug him.

And since when did he everhugpeople?

But maybe Aaron felt the same because he turned his head, and for a hot second, their eyes met.Finally. Aaron’s were turbulent, full of feelings Lewis couldn’t parse, but he gave Lewis a curt nod, anI’m on your sidenod, and the ball of tension in the pit of Lewis’s belly unwound a fraction.

He smiled in relief. Theywouldbe all right; he knew they would.

“Okay,” he said, pushing open the door to lead them in. “Let’s get this show on the fucking road.”

Chapter Eighteen

Aaron

Suboptimal.

That was the word Aaron couldn’t get out of his head. He kept hearing it in Lewis’s stilted, awkward voice. Even now, as they trooped into Charlie’s office to discuss the future of the show that had dominated Aaron’s life for the past six years, all he could think about was Lewis’s summary dismissal that morning.

This situation is… suboptimal.

The single most transformative sexual and emotional encounter of Aaron’s life, one that had crystallised years of repressed longing, had been suboptimal. Regrettable.