La vita è bella. Life was beautiful. Everything couldn’t have been going better for me. My Uber driver wasn’t only avoiding every single red light in New York while looking damn handsome every time he glanced in the rearview mirror, but even better than a hot-ass driver, I was also able to convince a jury that my client was innocent of assaulting his employer. I ended up saving a man from a few years behind bars and closed another successful case. All in all, I felt pretty damn good.

“Thanks, bud,” I said as the driver pulled up to my destination.

“No problem, man. Have a good one.”

“You too,” I said, already unlocking my phone and making sure to give him a good tip. I grabbed my briefcase and stepped out of the car and was immediately hit by the aggressively cold air. I shrugged my heavy gray peacoat on a little tighter. My breath came out in a fog as I walked toward the building. It was a beautiful brownstone with dark green ivy crawling up the facade like a well-placed mask. There was a sign above the white door that said Stonewall Investigations, a subtle rainbow painted across the middle.

This was the place. I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. My appointment was in ten minutes, so I wasn’t in any rush. I hated getting to places late. Behind the door, I could hear the locks click. The door opened and revealed a handsome guy wearing a broad smile.

“Hi, I’m Andrew. You must be Mr. De Luca. Come in, get out of that cold.”

“Thank you, thank you.” I stepped inside and was immediately greeted by warmth. I looked around, feeling almost as if I were in someone’s home rather than a detective agency. I liked it. It had a much different feel compared to police stations and other detective agencies I’d worked with. There was a long hallway ahead of me with a row of doors, each one with a name printed across the top on a sign that denoted which investigator was in which room. My appointment was with Zane Holden, the head honcho. I had heard only good things about him, so I was excited to get started on the case I was bringing him. It was a tough one, and I wanted to make sure I had the best of the best working on it. My law firm already had its own private investigator who was already looking into things, but I found his results were lacking in the past, so that led me to Stonewall Investigations.

“Let me go tell Zane you’re here. I’ll call you upstairs when he’s ready.” Andrew smiled as he pointed toward a comfortable-looking black bench set against the white walls, right next to the window where the bright winter sun was streaming through. There was a coat rack holding a variety of different coats with room for a couple more. I took mine off and hung it on one of the vacant copper hooks.

“Thanks, Andrew,” I said, taking a seat on the bench, the soft gray cushion proving to be comfortable and not just good for looks.

“Do you want some coffee or tea? Shouldn’t be long, but we’ve just got a fresh brew of both going. There’s also a more comfortable waiting room down the hall to the left.”

“I’m okay without coffee or tea, and this bench is great. What is this? Memory foam?” I tilted up on the seat, lifting a leg and looking at the cushion. Andrew chuckled and turned toward the stairs. I noticed he was holding a thick folder in his hands, but away from his body, almost like they were tainted with something rotten inside.

“I’ll be right back,” Andrew assured me as he went upstairs and disappeared. The sound of knocks and then a door opening drifted down toward me. I could hear the distant murmur of conversations happening in the offices. Phones would ring every now and then, in that classic, old-timey tone, making me imagine the detectives smoking out of pipes and wearing full Sherlock Holmes regalia, feet on the table as they bantered over case details.

I entertained myself some more with my silly daydreams until Andrew reappeared. I heard his shoes hitting the steps before I heard his voice.

“Zane’s ready for ya.”

It felt almost like he was trying extra hard to be upbeat. Over the years of standing in a courtroom and interrogating witnesses, I’d learned how to read faces, and Andrew’s face seemed a little shaken underneath that wide smile.

I got up and collected my stuff before following Andrew up the stairs. The second floor was more open than the first. It seemed like only Zane’s office was up here. The landing opened into a large study-type area, with tall bookshelves full of different books and a small wooden desk placed against a bright window. Potted plants hung from the walls, their vines and leaves cascading down like hair. Zane’s office was across the room, marked by a heavy dark door and a sign above it that read Zane Holden.

The door was cracked open. Andrew pushed it the rest of the way and stepped aside, allowing me in. At first, I was impressed by how nice the office was. A huge window looked out onto the street, framed by heavy red curtains held together by thick golden rope. It was a large office, furnished with pieces that would look great even in my own home, including a small side table, and a large desk facing away from the window.

But it was the man behind the desk who really blew my mind.

Never had I seen a sexier man. And never had I reacted so instantly to a man before, either. He was oozing pure sex appeal, from the way his sleeves were rolled up to show off those droolworthy forearms, to the pouty lips that were begging to be kissed, to the five-o’clock shadow that I wanted to lick. Zane was sitting behind his desk, and… holy shit. I never wanted to sit in someone’s lap so damn bad before. I could see through the glass table, and his legs were spread wide, his thick thighs filling up the gray slacks he was wearing. I peeled my eyes away before I eye-fucked his crotch and ended up getting stuck in a dick trance.

Those were the worst, weren’t they?

“Ciao, Mr. Holden.” My hand went out in front of me before I started walking. For a hair of a second, I thought the guy wasn’t going to stand up to greet me. Like it was some kind of power move. But thankfully, he stood up and reached out for my hand over his desk. He grabbed it and met my eyes. Immediately, I felt intrigued by the look behind those deep brown eyes. For some reason, I was taken back to being a kid and finding that one book out of the hundred I looked through at the library, the one with the most captivating synopsis and a head-turning cover. I was a huge reader, and those discoveries would make me one happy son of a gun.

This, somehow, was making me feel the same way.

“Lorenzo De Luca, nice to meet you.”

“You can just call me Enzo,” I offered, not breaking my eye contact with him even though our hands were separating.

You can call me whatever the hell you want.

“Okay, Enzo.” He said it as though he were trying the word on. I couldn’t tell if he liked it. His face was very… unreadable. I was trying. Damn, was I trying. But he was a solid wall of pure handsomeness and zero emotion. His squared jaw and strong brow, with eyes that glittered like precious gems, and lips that were asking me to suck on them, all of it added up to a man that made me want to drop to my knees and beg for it.

And I never begged.

“My assistant gave me a rundown on the case, but why don’t you start from the top?”

“Top it is,” I said, pulling the heavy black chair away from the table so I could sit down. I wondered if he noticed the slight emphasis I added to the word “top.” Zane was making me want to fluff out all of my feathers and strut around him like a sex-starved peacock.

His face, still blank, gave me nothing to go off. I grabbed my briefcase and gently placed it down on the desk, opening it and pulling out two folders full of notes. I set them on the glass top and closed the briefcase, placing it back down on the floor. One of the folders, the blue one, was labeled with the name Ricardo Aventura in thick black marker. The green folder had the name Luanne Northwood.

“All right, let’s get started.” I pushed Ricardo’s folder forward. Zane opened it and picked up the first few papers. “So, this is Ricardo,” I said, knowing Zane could still listen as he read. “He’s being accused of a double homicide. His neighbors were found murdered in their apartment, and Ricardo doesn’t have a verifiable alibi. He swears up and down he didn’t do it; the cops think otherwise and have him locked up. Considering he has a record, they didn’t give him any leeway.”

Zane was nodding as he put the papers down and picked up another few.

“It was a clean crime scene in terms of criminal DNA. They can’t trace the gun used in the shooting either. There was no one else around during the murder, so all they really have is a videotape of a few days before the murder. In it, Ricardo is going off on Luanne and her husband. They’re clearly pissed but it was someone’s cell phone video so it’s grainy and the audio isn’t great.” I took a breath, getting to the worst part. “You can hear Ricardo say something like ‘you’ll regret this’ and then he storms back into his apartment. He insists that he said ‘oh, forget this,’ but it’s almost impossible to be sure. They’ve already interviewed the person filming and came up with nothing.”

He wasn’t saying much, so I sat back as he went through the folders, reading the papers and asking a few questions here and there but staying silent for the most part. His lack of responses was having an odd effect on me. It was making me want to reach across the table and grab Zane’s face in my hands, just to get a damn reaction from him. Obviously, I didn’t want a full-blown conversation—he was looking over files—but still… I wanted something more than a nod. I wanted him to look up from the papers and at me.

“Looks like you have some things compiled already,” he noted.

“My firm has a PI, too. He put a lot of it together. I can’t take credit for it.”

“Yeah, I saw his name on some of the papers. Any reason why you’re hiring Stonewall?”

“Well, you guys have a big reputation, and I want all the help I can get. I know this guy is innocent, and I don’t want to see him lose the rest of his life because of one dumb argument someone got on tape. And of course, there’s also Stonewall Investigations’ reputation in the gay community.” I sighed, bringing up another concern I had about the case. “Ricardo is also gay. I normally wouldn’t think much about his sexuality, but I’m nervous that some of the jury might be bigoted. There are a few of them who are heavy-duty Christians, and I know the prosecutor knows that, too. He’ll use it to his advantage, no doubt.”

That was when Zane looked up, and I was almost knocked out of the damn chair. “Plus,” I said, my words forming before any coherent thoughts could back them up, “the fact that I have a hot-as-hell James Bond on the case doesn’t hurt.” My smiled cracked in half, my Italian accent coming in heavy toward the end.

And still, Zane didn’t give me what I wanted. He gave a barely perceptible huff and a lift of his shoulders but kept that stony mask on, the one that set his lips straight and his brow pushed forward. I moved in the seat, the leather squeaking under my pants, and my hands fisted between my legs.

What’s this guy’s deal?

And why do I want to do whatever it takes to figure it out?

“Right,” I said, brushing past my failed flirting attempt. I wasn’t exactly used to failure, especially not with bedroom conquests, but I wasn’t unrealistic about it, either. I hit on a good amount of men, and a few of them weren’t interested for whatever reason. That was fine. I’d move on with my life and find someone else. It wasn’t exactly that difficult to find guys.

Except I wanted to keep toying with Zane, if only to get some kind of reaction from him.

“Think we’ve got a chance of finding out who really did this?” I asked, while the gears in my brain worked overtime to think of some cutesy line that would at least get a smirk from him. Outside, the sun was beginning to reach its peak above the New York streets. It was a bright winter’s day, and the sunlight felt unusually strong as it beamed through the window behind Zane, highlighting him in a way that should have only been possible in a movie.

Or in my dreams.

“Your PI didn’t put together much.”

“Yeah, we’ve been considering having him replaced.”

Zane tilted his head, his lips pursing. “I want to be honest with you, Lorenzo.”

“Enzo.”

“We don’t have any guarantees here, and I don’t want to give you numbers since things can change on a dime. But, with that being said, I do see a few avenues I want to look deeper into. A videotape of an argument is definitely shaky, but I could see how it could be painted in court, especially coupled with the prior prostitution, which could be linked to him bringing over sketchy people and causing even more conflict with the neighbors.”

He took a breath. I noticed his eyes dart to an unlabeled black folder that was set at the edge of his desk. Maybe he was being so standoffish because he had a lot on his plate?

“Well, I have faith you’ll find out who really did this.” I puffed my chest a bit. “I also have faith that I can create an ironclad defense out of crumbs.”

“I’m sure you can,” Zane said, looking back down at his folders. I couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm. Was that sarcastic? I was almost going to ask but held back. Something was telling me it was my time to go and let Zane get to work. He seemed to be disengaging from me, and that was something I didn’t like.

In fact, I wanted to remedy it. I wanted to see Zane again, under different circumstances, outside of talks of murder and jail time. A dinner wouldn’t hurt. We’d get some good food, have some good conversation, and, hopefully, have some earth-shattering sex. All in all, it sounded like a win for everyone involved.

“Come get some food with me tonight,” I said as I stood up to go. “On me.”

Cazzo. You can eat off my naked body if you want.

Zane narrowed his eyes. I could tell he was tossing the suggestion around in his head. I smiled, hoping to sweeten the deal with a flash of my pearly whites.

“Busy tonight.”

I deflated like a popped balloon. My molars ground together, my lips pursing. “Fine.” I turned to leave before stopping and spinning back around. “You sure? We can do drinks instead. My buddy just opened up that bar across Central Park, near here actually. It’s called Sire. I can get us a nice table.”

“Sorry, Mr. De Luca.” Zane didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. His eyes were drawing back down to the case files—those tantalizing eyes that I couldn’t get enough of. It reminded me of visiting a museum and getting hypnotized by the collection of precious metals and gems. All kinds of rocks and crystals, glittering under precisely placed lights, made up of their own various chemical elements, each one more beautiful than the last. I felt like the longer I could stare into Zane’s eyes, the more beauty I’d find.

Cazzo. I really wanted this man.

“Fine,” I said again. I was having a hard time letting this one go. My rod may have been bent and broken, but I was pulling this son of a bass in, goddammit. And I knew that one important step to reeling in the catch was giving the line some slack. I wouldn’t push the issue, but I’d leave it open. “I’ll be there anyway in case you change your mind. You have my number. Use it.”

Zane cracked a smirk. It was fleeting, but I saw it! Positive I did. That was progress. “I’ll think about it.”

Okay. That was as far as I was getting. I wasn’t a gambling man, nor did I want to press my luck. I could tell he was interested by the glint of curiosity behind those captivating eyes of his. Of course he would show up. What did he have to lose? Free drinks and food? Hell, I’d show up to a third grader’s piano recital if they were giving away free booze and pizza.

Perfetto. I’m sure I’ll see him later.

I thought the night would end up being perfect. I never could have imagined the events that were about to come, the reason why Zane and I would be pushed together again.