Well-Tailored (Thorne and Dash 4)

Thank God. Maybe, just maybe, this was the new direction he needed.

Right into the bed of a man I’m obsessed with?

“That won’t happen. My timing is perfect.”

Darius’s expression said he enjoyed Marc’s flirting. If Riley weren’t there…

“Fill that out, and get it back to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marc seized Riley’s arm as soon as they left the shop. “When I said he was magical I had no idea how right I was. Why the hell didn’t you tell me how gorgeous he was?”

“I’ve never met him, remember?”

Marc couldn’t believe he was that ignorant. “Surely Thorne has mentioned his attributes.”

“Never.”

“Well, tell him you expect to be better informed of such important details in the future.”

“Are you serious about wanting to work with Darius?” Riley asked.

Was he? Yes, he wanted a new direction. He’d never regretted his choice to work as an escort. The service he worked for vetted clients closely, and he chose who he worked for, which was a better deal than he’d get in most service-industry jobs. But it wasn’t a career with a future.

“Aside from the fact that I’d be working for a god, I love fashion, remember?”

“Are you truly qualified?” Riley asked.

“He needs an assistant, not another magician. I can learn on the job.”

“At least it should be interesting.”

That was for damn sure. “And scenic.”

Marc and Riley parted ways a few moments later. Marc had to work that evening. He’d intended to take a nap so he’d be refreshed for a very demanding client. Instead, he found himself ducking into a coffee shop and sipping a caramel macchiato while he looked over the employment application.

The information needed was basic. There was a section for relevant skills, but he truly did have some. Of course, he could always offer to blow Darius. He was damn sure he’d be hired, but then it wouldn’t be any different from his current job. If he was truly going for a change, he needed a job that wasn’t focused on sex. If Darius was anywhere near him, he’d be thinking about nothing else.

Maybe I just need to learn to control my dick instead of the other way around. And maybe I need to stop putting myself in temptation’s way. Considering my track record, Darius is likely to fleece me of my savings and skip back to England, leaving me brokenhearted.

He put the application in his bag. He’d have to think about it.

CHAPTER TWO

After Marc and Riley left, Darius returned to the back and the motherfucking zipper from hell. Marc had made very clear he was interested in more than employment, and Darius wished the timing had been right to take him up on the offer.

The door chimed a few moments later. Thank fuck he heard it this time. Riley and Marc might not care what he’d yelled from the back, but many of his customers would be put off if confronted with his less polished side.

When he stepped out he wished he’d pretended not to be there. Mitchell Thompson, a miserly, demanding son of a bitch who seemed to think Darius was his servant, stood at the counter with a sour expression on his face. Come to think of it, Darius wasn’t sure he had any other expressions.

“Is my suit ready yet?” Thompson asked, his tone insinuating that only a lazy slob would have failed to complete the work.

It was the very damn thing he was working on. The old arse had ripped the crotch. Darius prayed it didn’t happen during a sexual encounter. He’d pity anyone who had to get close to Thompson’s shriveled knob.

“No, Mr. Thompson. As I explained when you brought it by, I’m fully booked this week. I’m attempting to fit the repair in around other work.”

“There’s no reason you can’t have fixed a zipper by now.”

It had barely been twenty-four hours, and there was far more to do than just replace a zipper.

“Other clients are in the queue ahead of you.”

The old bastard sniffed. “It’s only a repair.”

Darius wondered if he’d get Thompson out of the shop before he strangled him. “It’s a time-consuming one.”

“I doubt it would be if you were really working.”

You motherfucking twat. “Sir, as I stated before, I will have it for you by Monday.”

Thompson huffed. “You’d think someone like you would be glad to have the business.”

Someone like him? A black man? Because of the color of his skin he must be desperate or lazy? He only wished he was surprised by how this man thought of him. But he was only too familiar with such sentiments.

“Actually, you think wrong. I will finish this repair because I already agreed to it. In fact, I won’t even charge for it, but in the future, someone else can deal with you.”

The man sputtered; then he slammed his hand down on the desk. “You’d better have it ready by the end of the day. I’m tired of waiting.”