Painted On My Heart

Arik dropped his head in his hand then scrubbed it over his face, trying to control his anger as the minutes kept ticking by.

He stared at the clock on his desk. Eight twenty-five. Fucking BT was doing this on purpose. Arik should have anticipated this move; had a counterattack ready. Of course, BT would be purposefully late after being tossed from his bed last night.

“Arik!”

He scowled as he moved his gaze back to the screen. His assistant looked as though she’d been trying to get his attention; her frustration clear in her raised voice.

“Yes?” he snapped at Iris. He really shouldn’t do that. She didn’t deserve the attitude. None of this was her fault. Steffan was the diva.

“Is there anything else I need to do to help you?” she asked.

“Is Tristan Wilder in town?” he asked, switching gears in his mind.

“Yes, he arrived a few minutes ago.” She nodded.

“And Gage is at the hotel this morning? You’ve seen or heard his voice yourself?”

“Yes.” She gave her signature efficient nod. The one that made it clear she was ahead of the game.

“Move BT’s flight back a couple of hours. I should have time between eleven and twelve twenty to get him to the airport. Until then, I guess he’ll have to go with me to the site.” His bad mood intensified when he said those words aloud. For the fifteenth time that morning, he checked off his skeleton crew currently in Dallas to see if he could assign someone to handle BT’s departure. Every staff member in his personal circle either remained in Chicago, New York, or helped in the last-minute preparations for this grand opening. He had no one to spare for such a frustratingly insignificant task.

Maybe he could send one of the resort’s drivers. No. There was absolutely no way he could leave BT in his apartment alone. The guy didn’t have boundaries. He hated his shit disrupted, which was exactly what BT—Steffan—had managed to do last night. That annoying surprise had just turned into a giant pain in his ass. How much clearer could he have been? No strings, nothing more than a fuck buddy—those words couldn’t have been any plainer.

This was what he got for messing with gorgeous, high-maintenance models. He must have missed the cling-on signals. Obviously, BT had decided he needed a meal ticket. The scowl on his face intensified as he reminisced over the proposal BT suggested last night. As if he’d ever consider a long-term relationship with a diva like Steffan. His life-partner standards were already so high that no one had ever managed to meet his criteria in all of his thirty-eight years of life. In every single quality that Arik found important in a long-term partner, Steffan was lacking.

“I’m ready.”

Arik’s angry gaze lifted to BT and he could do nothing more than just stare at the guy. Was this dude fucking serious? Fall in Texas meant the temperature outside was hot. Absolutely not fur coat weather. Besides the oversized fur, BT wore thigh-high boots, and his silky, dark hair cascaded around his shoulders in long, loose waves. He’d even taken the time to line his gray eyes, making their unusual color even more prominent.

Yep, the reminder was clear. The eyeliner had been his downfall before. Never again. He added another couple of requirements to his long-term relationship criteria. Eyeliner only in the bedroom, and in no conceivable situation could he see real-fur coats as necessary.

“Book the flight. I don’t have time for this,” Arik grumbled, cutting his gaze back to Iris.

“Any chance I can see what you’re looking at?” Iris asked. Clearly, the look on his face piqued her curiosity.

On a strong what-the-fuck-ever impulse, he lifted the laptop and turned the camera toward BT who cocked a hip and glanced at his hands as if checking out his fingernails. After a few seconds, he turned the monitor back toward himself, just in time to see the horrified look on his assistant’s face. She didn’t even need to speak, because he knew what she was thinking.

“Yep, my sentiments exactly. Arrange the flight for BT. Make it coach this time. Message me the details. I’ll touch base after my meeting with Gage.”

“Yes, sir.”

He closed the screen and rose from his chair, pulling down his sleeves. “You do know the high today will be in the upper eighties, right?”

BT gave him a haughty look. “Oh, sugar, I don’t wear the coat because I’m cold; I wear it because I look good in fur,” he said with a flip of his hair, shifting on the heels of his boots before walking away. Arik followed him to the door of his office, buttoning the sleeves he’d pushed up earlier. He reached for his suit jacket, shrugging it back in place as he watched the ridiculous-looking Steffan.

“Where are your things?” he asked, adjusting his collar.