Secret

Dylan was grateful for the mental mind-check. He needed things to go back to basics. It wasn’t just the man that overwhelmed him, but the whole experience. He needed to focus. David and Rob had different agendas. Where they wanted employment, he would never be hired by Wilder nor did he even want that as an option. He just wanted his baby, Secret, in the best possible hands to grow into an international success.

He followed the tour, staying somewhere in the middle of the group, and remained out of the conversations. He was all about the inner workings of the company. The setup and attitude he’d seen on the top floor flowed through to every other floor in the place. That impressed him. Even the mailroom had been designed for optimum performance.

The data center, though, rose to a level he’d never seen or experienced before. The size of a large warehouse, the colorful, complex nerve center of the entire company was filled with an intricate maze of proprietary servers all supporting its daily billion users. Although the company was understandably careful who was allowed beyond this point, Tristan had granted them access to walk through.

Dylan was so impressed he stayed right there in that room, talking frankly and openly with some of the engineers. No one stopped him from asking any question or refused to show him anything he wanted to see. The place was truly state of the art, exceptionally made in every way. He wished he could afford even a portion of a complex like this. He left no detail unanalyzed.

Since he’d taken so long in the data center, the fascinating tour ended about three and a half hours after it began. When he stepped out of the oversized room with Tristan leading the way, they were all waiting for him. The instant conversation and camaraderie of earlier was gone. They were quietly standing there. The windows proved dusk had set in, and he realized he’d probably blown their schedule to hell.

“I’m sorry. I never expected to see your nerve center so closely,” Dylan stated.

“We’ve had someone take your bags to the hotel. They’ll be in your rooms when you arrive. I pushed the dinner reservations back by thirty minutes. Should I move them back further?” A woman he’d seen on the top floor stood talking to the group of men. Damn, he had blown the schedule with his uncontrolled curiosity.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken so much time…” he tried again.

Tristan, who’d stayed relatively quiet, except to answer some of Dylan’s more technical questions, jumped in to respond. “Dylan, it was an honor to see someone so interested in our setup. I told you we take great pride in that room. No apology needed. Amy, I think that’s a perfect plan. Why don’t we head out now? We should get there right on time.”

“That sounds good to me,” Landry seconded, earning a round of nods from everyone in their party. Dylan went along, following the men outside to the waiting cars. The million or so questions he’d still had were all swallowed. Hopefully another chance would arise to talk more about the inner workings of the center.

The steakhouse was okay, the company pretty good, and the Texans could sure put away the alcohol. If he were assessing the situation at the end of day one, he’d say they were doing a good job at reeling in the final contract. The only concern he had was the company’s owner. Dylan’s defenses weren’t easily penetrated, and he stayed quiet, not offering much insight. Tristan had a feeling there was more to this guy, something he just couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Since they’d all seemed to pair up, Tristan got saddled with the quiet Dylan. It wasn’t a bad thing, not by any means. He was hot as hell to look at with his auburn hair, wide-set, deep blue eyes, and sexy mouth. A mouth with full fleshy lips that Tristan’s eyes kept being drawn to every time the man took a bite of his food. Dylan was also tall and carried himself well. He was smart, funny, and easy to talk to in a one-on-one situation. It seemed as though, at least technically speaking, they were in exactly the same place. When everyone else had become bored out of their minds earlier, Dylan was fully vested into touring his data center, and it was in that moment he knew he liked the guy. The other appealing thing about Dylan was something he prided himself on as well. It didn’t matter if you were the lowest technician in the room, Dylan would spend time getting to know the person and the job they performed. He seemed to understand that no piece of the pie was bigger or smaller than the rest. It took everyone to make things happen.

He’d love to spend a few hours talking ideas and concepts. At dinner, they’d done just that. Tristan had thought he’d smoothed some of the reservation out of the guy, gotten him more comfortable. Yet, from the time they’d walked into the nightclub, Dylan had become more reserved than before, if that were even possible.

The after-hours events they planned had them at the high-dollar gentlemen’s club. Something Amy had set up for them against Tristan’s protests. Apparently her years in the South had paid off. David and Rob were loving the place, having a great time. They’d even migrated closer to the stage with his own team of guys right there with them, but Dylan had stayed back. And contrary to the one drink maximum he’d seemed intent on at dinner, Dylan never allowed his drink to empty, but he also didn’t partake in the good time the others were having.

Since he was gay, Tristan hadn’t bothered to get too involved in stuffing the G-strings with folded dollar bills, but he loved watching everything going on around him. As the night progressed, he kept going between their reserved six-top in the back of the club where Dylan sat, to the table everyone else occupied up front. Since technically Dylan’s signature was the one that was going to be at the bottom of the contract, Tristan felt as if he needed the most wining and dining. On that thought, he straddled the chair opposite Dylan, swiveled around to watch him as he accepted another drink from the waitress.