Maybe it was just a midlife crisis.
Maybe his uncle had been right and this was a disease.
Or maybe he had always been a faggot and had just repressed the hell out of it. Maybe it wasn’t Sebastian. Maybe he would behave so ridiculously with any attractive man, although his lack of attraction to Antonio seemed to point to the contrary.
Maybe it wasn’t Sebastian who was the exception but Antonio.
To test that theory, Vlad closed his eyes and tried to imagine fucking Luke. The kid was as pretty as it could get and Vlad definitely didn’t feel revulsion at the idea, but the faint interest had nothing on the insatiable want he felt with Sebastian. Besides, Roman might actually kill him if he laid a finger on his boy.
Roman.
Vlad imagined fucking Roman and snorted. Even if the idea wasn’t vaguely gross—Roman had always been a bit of a brother figure to him—he knew they would be disastrous in bed. It wasn’t exactly a secret to him that Roman was a kinky, domineering asshole. Vlad had no submissive inclinations. He could rarely keep his opinions to himself if he disagreed with Roman’s orders—that was the reason they had clashed so often over the years. They would be terrible in bed.
So it was safe to say he didn’t want Luke or Roman the way he wanted Sebastian.
Vlad wasn’t sure whether he should be happy about it or not. On one hand, it was good to know he hadn’t suddenly become a cock slut. On the other hand, it was hugely worrying that he was so transfixed on Sebastian, sick with desire to kiss him, to touch him, to fuck him—to see him. Even now his gaze kept drifting to the right, toward the district where Sebastian’s flat was located. He couldn’t see the building from here, but it didn’t stop him from looking, like some obsessed, lovesick creep.
Sighing, Vlad took another sip from his bottle, staring moodily into the dark sky and letting his thoughts drift.
He didn’t know for how long he stood there, perhaps an hour, perhaps more, when the balcony door opened behind him.
Roman stepped out, lighting a cigarette. He had his coat thrown over his shoulders, his bare chest on display. He reeked of sex.
“Can’t sleep?” Roman said, taking a deep drag.
Vlad shrugged.
“Luke says you’ve been an exemplary bodyguard.”
Vlad just snorted, a little surprised. While he and Luke had worked out their differences, they weren’t exactly friends. He had expected the kid to still hold a grudge against him.
“I’m glad you and Luke have worked out your issues.”
Vlad said nothing, waiting. Roman wasn’t one for idle talk; he was going somewhere with this.
“I expect you to return to your old job,” Roman said.
Vlad laughed. Of course Roman wasn’t asking him if he wanted to return to his old job. He was informing Vlad of his stance, fully expecting the positive answer. Arrogant asshole.
“Who says I want to go back?” Vlad said. “I took this job as a favor to you, because I owed you one. Maybe I’m not interested in staying around. This city is fucking depressing.”
“Really,” Roman said evenly, taking another long drag. “I’ve been told something different. Luke says you’ve been fucking his model friend.”
Vlad stiffened. It was an effort to keep his face blank. How did Luke know? A lucky guess? Or had Sebastian told him?
Unease settled low in his gut. He wasn’t comfortable with so many people knowing about...him.
“If Luke spent the past hour talking about me, you were doing something wrong,” Vlad said gruffly.
Roman chuckled, not taking the bait. “So it’s true. Have to say I’m surprised.”
“Why?” Vlad bit off. “You used to fuck a different woman every night, but now you’re fucking Whitford’s boy.”
“I’m not ‘fucking’ Luke,” Roman said, ice creeping into his voice. “Don’t speak of him in that way. Understood?”
Vlad looked at him. Roman didn’t seem amused in the least, his posture tense, anger rolling off him in waves.
Eyeing his normally cool-headed boss, Vlad realized Roman didn’t just have fond feelings for the boy. He loved him, as in was in it for the long haul.
The realization made him feel...strange. He didn’t feel disgusted, and that was the strange part.
“Okay,” Vlad said, turning away. After a moment, he added stiffly, “If I knew how important he was to you, I wouldn’t have helped Anastasia. I thought he was a bad influence.” The road to hell was paved with good intentions.
“I know,” Roman said. “That’s the only reason I decided to forgive you. And if I can let your betrayal go, you can swallow your damn pride. You will take the job, Vlad. Anya is sick of doing your job on top of hers.” He paused. “And I got used to the way you handled things, even though Anya never questions my orders, which is a refreshing change from you.”