Page 96 of Worth the Risk

Gregory hit him in the shoulder. “I’m doing the right thing. If Landon doesn’t see that, then our relationship wouldn’t work anyway because it would mean his needs as a submissive aren’t compatible with the way I prefer to command. Better now than later, right?”

Gregory closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that when Landon and Verity returned, Landon would want to talk to him, apologize over the misunderstanding, and pick back up where they left off, but he wasn’t completely sure that’s how it would go.

That hadn’t stopped Gregory from commissioning the collar he’d described to Landon, though. Even if when he returned, Landon wouldn’t wear it, Gregory wouldn’t make the same mistake he had in high school. He’d give it to Landon either way, so he knew—so he understood the depths of Gregory’s commitment to him, to their future.

30

Landon

“I forgothow awful these tiny ass apartments are,” Landon complained. He was squished beside Jack on a loveseat, which was the largest piece of furniture in the living room of Jack’s East Harlem apartment.

Jack was reclined, with his feet propped on the coffee table, a plate of eggs and bacon resting on his thigh.

“My real estate agent prefers descriptors such as quaint or cozy,” Jack informed him.

Landon pushed up from the couch with a laugh and walked the five steps into the kitchen so he could refill his coffee.

It was Saturday morning, marking one week Landon had been in New York. Jack had been discharged on Thursday and had slept most of the time since then. He’d woken early this morning and phoned Landon at the hotel asking for breakfast. Landon had come over and cooked for him, slightly begrudging his insistence on being here to help Jack recover while he waited for the caffeine to take any kind of action on his heavy eyes and sluggish brain.

He would need to figure out some sort of care schedule for Jack while he healed and recovered, because there was no way he could spend more than two hours at a time in this cramped apartment.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Landon asked.

“Nope,” Jack mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.

Landon took two steps to the left and wedged himself down Jack’s narrow front hallway and squinted through the peephole before pulling the door open in shock.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Landon asked, mouth agape.

Verity was in front of him, billowing black skirt and red tank top, with suitcase in tow. They looked tired, but gave him a smile and a small shrug.

“I came to help you, of course,” they said, pushing their way into the narrow space.

“But what about Rapture? We agreed Callum was great, but we weren’t going to train him on our stuff yet. I don’t…”

Verity held up a hand to silence him.

“It’s taken care of. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Verity?” Jack called from the couch, angling his head toward the hallway. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me.” Verity took Landon’s coffee from his hand and joined Jack on the couch, pressing air kisses against his cheeks. “I thought we agreed October.”

“My appendix missed you,” Jack said with a snort, “He wanted you to come now.”

Landon stood in the hallway, still shocked, watching Verity and Jack banter back and forth like it was not an absolute absurdity for Verity and Landon to be in New York at the same time. As though they didn’t have a business to run.

“Verity, who the fuck is running the club?” Landon shouted over their conversation.

Verity sipped their coffee and raised an eyebrow at Landon. It was a look he recognized, and it was a much needed reminder to settle himself.

“Who is running the club?” Landon asked again, calmer.

“Gregory,” Verity answered with a smirk before resuming their conversation with Jack.

“Ho! Ho!” Jack barked out, slapping his non-plate holding thigh with his palm. “Tell me more aboutthat!”