CHAPTER NINE
Dash stared at the key in his hand, surprised Thorne trusted him with it. Maybe he was just too sleepy to care. If so, Dash hoped he didn’t make a habit of having random men over. Marc said Thorne never slept with anyone but escorts at least as far as he could tell. Dash hoped that was true.
“Why are you still here?”
Dash laughed as he pulled on the clothes he’d worn last night. “Because I can’t go out there naked.”
Dash scurried through the lobby, waving to the doorman as he exited. It was a different man from the one who usually let him in. He must have the day shift. This man gave Dash a look of disdain instead of returning his greeting. Dash glanced down at himself and realized his pants were wrinkled and he’d missed a button on his shirt. Oh well, so much for first impressions.
He pulled out his phone and used it to find the closest market. Twenty minutes later, he was back with ingredients for omelets and carrot muffins. But when he reached the door, the unknown doorman blocked his way. “This is a private building, sir.”
“Yes, I know. I just came out a few minutes ago.”
“Who are you here to see?”
Dash’s heart was pounding. Would Thorne want this man to know Dash was with him? Dash didn’t usually feel like a common prostitute despite the fact that men hired him for sex. But this man was making him feel cheap. Who the fuck was he to do that? “I don’t believe that is any of your business. I have a key.”
The man jerked it out of Dash’s hands. “Only residents of this building or guests they’ve listed with us should have keys.”
“Look, I understand that you don’t know me. But I’m supposed to deliver these groceries.”
“Those can be sent up. We have a—”
“No. I’m delivering them and then making breakfast which I can’t do if you don’t let me in.” Dash held out his hand for Thorne’s key.
“I’m sorry, sir, until I verify—”
“You mean to tell me that people always register friends before giving them a key? That—”
“I know everyone in the building, and I’ve not seen you here before, therefore—”
“Fine.” Dash turned and walked down the street until he found a bench where he could set the groceries. Hand shaking, he pulled out his phone and dialed Thorne’s number. He didn’t expect an answer. Thorne was probably still asleep with his ringer off.
But he was in luck. Thorne answered on the first ring. “Dash?”
“You’re up.”
“Technically no, but I’m awake enough to check e-mail and to be very impatient for coffee.”
Dash grinned despite his predicament. Have-everything-his-way Thorne was back. “You’d have it now, but the doorman won’t let me in.”
“I thought I gave you my key.”
“You did. He took it from me.”
“What?” Dash had never heard such anger in Thorne’s voice.
“He said he knew everyone who should have a key and—”
“I’ll be down as soon as I find some pants.”
“Thorne, if you don’t want him to know I’m with you, then I—”
“Are you kidding me? That man is an ass, and if I have my way—and I usually do—he won’t have a job after today.”
“Thank you.” Dash didn’t know what else to day. He almost felt sorry for the man.
“Should I be insulted that you doubted I’d handle this?” Thorne asked.
Dash decided not to answer that. He shouldn’t have doubted, but he had. He heard muttering and sounds that indicated Thorne was moving around. “Why the fuck are there no clean pants here?”
“Laundress on strike?”
“Very funny.”
Dash laughed. “I thought so. I’ll see you in a minute.”
Dash ended the call and walked back to the door.
“Didn’t I tell you that I have to verify your identity before you can enter?” the doorman said.
“And I told you that I have someone waiting on groceries and breakfast. He’s angry, and he’s on his way down.” Dash smiled and stood by the door, holding his bag.
He dramatically drew in a breath of the fragrant summer air. “Nice weather,” he observed as the elevator doors opened into the lobby.
Thorne stepped out in a crisp, dark suit that was likely worth more than Dash’s car.
The doorman scowled at Dash.
“Good thing it’s not terribly hot this morning. I have a feeling my friend gets even crankier when his food goes bad. He’s not good with disappointment.” Thorne glided toward them, moving soundlessly, like a cat stalking its prey.
Dash leaned in closer and spoke in a stage whisper. “He’s a little spoiled.”
“Am I now?”
The doorman jumped and turned. “Good morning, Mr. Shipton.” The man’s voice no longer held the arrogance it had when he’d spoken to Dash.
Thorne ignored him and gestured to Dash to step inside.
“This young man is here to see you?” The color drained from the doorman’s face.
“He is. I was in bed, waiting for my breakfast. Thanks to you, I’m now dressed and in the lobby, and I’ve not even had coffee yet. I’ve decided to call a meeting with the building manager, no point in being dressed for business if I’m not going to conduct some. Misconduct of building employees is at the top of the agenda.”
“Sir, I didn’t realize… I thought—”
“That he’d broken in, stolen my key, and come back to what, murder me with…” Thorne rose on tiptoe and peered into the grocery bag Dash held. “These?” He lifted out an egg carton. “Or these?” He pulled out a bundle of scallions.
“I’m not supposed to let anyone in who isn’t on the list of approved guests.” The man’s voice quavered.
Thorne glared at him. “He had my key, and you saw him exit, unless you weren’t paying such assiduous attention when he left.”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I saw him exit.”
“Then why didn’t you let him return?” Thorne’s tone had Dash on edge, and he wasn’t the focus of Thorne’s anger.
“He’s not on the list.”
Thorne turned when the elevator dinged. A lean man exited.
“Mr. Garnet, lovely morning, isn’t it?” Thorne asked.
Mr. Garnet was probably fifty-five. He was dressed in khakis and a rumpled button-down, and he did not look at all awake. “Yes, sir. It is.”
“Too bad we’re going to have to spend it on business.”
Mr. Garnet looked like he was bracing for a storm. Dash wondered how often Thorne demanded his presence. He hadn’t been kidding when he said the man was spoiled. “What’s wrong, Mr. Shipton?”
Thorne looked back at the doorman. “We need to discuss employees and how they handle their jobs.”
Mr. Garnet looked like he’d be happy to forget he’d ever seen Thorne or the doorman. “Did something happen?”
“Something hasn’t happened. I don’t have breakfast or coffee because this man would not let my—” Thorne paused there, obviously not at all sure how to describe Dash.
Dash wondered what he’d come up with.
“Personal chef into the building.”
Dash pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh.
“I was following policy,” the doorman protested. “And the young man didn’t say he was here to see Mr. Shipton.”
Mr. Garnet looked at Dash and then at the doorman. “I’m confused.”
“Don’t be,” Thorne said, taking over again. “I sent Mr. Dashwood out for…”
Dash didn’t hear the rest of what Thorne said because he was stuck on the fact that Thorne knew his real name. Sheila never revealed anything personal about the men and women who worked for her. Thorne had stalked him; fucking stalked him. And yet, here he was defending Dash, angry at the doorman’s treatment of him. Thorne had always treated him with respect, even apologizing when he joked about paying him.
“I’m going to leave you to handle this now,” Thorne said to Mr. Garnet. “I hope I won’t have to get involved in such matters again.”
“Thank you for calling this to my attention, sir. I’ll make sure you never have this problem again.”
“I sincerely hope so. I’d hate to have to call my realtor.”
“No sir,” Mr. Garnet said. “I will brief all our employees on this issue of guests with keys.”
Thorne smiled. “Thank you.”
Angry as he was, Dash had to stifle a laugh when he saw the expression on the doorman’s face. Thorne was so delightfully officious. No wonder he was good at his job.
THORNE TURNED WITHOUT another word and started toward the elevators. After a few steps, he realized Dash wasn’t following him. “I’m ready for breakfast now,” he called over his shoulder.
“Oh, right.” Dash unfroze and followed him to the elevators. Thorne keyed into the one for the upper floors.
When the doors shut, Thorne turned to face Dash. “I’m very sorry about that. There have been some incidents recently in the adjacent building. I know Garnet wanted to up security, but he’s taken it too far.”
Dash didn’t say a word. Was he pissed off that Thorne had rescued him?
“What’s wrong?” Thorne asked.
“How the fuck did you know my name?”
Oh, right. He’d let that little secret out. “Do you honestly think I’d give my key to someone I hadn’t vetted?”
“And here I thought you respected me.”
Thorne frowned. Where was this going? “I do.”
“I didn’t ask to have your key. I didn’t ask for anything other than our basic business arrangement.”
“I have my people check out all the men I hire.”
“All of them. Do you keep a stable of us now?” Dash turned away, color rising in his cheeks.
“Did you want me to just ignore how that asshole treated you?”
“No. I don’t know what I wanted.”
Thorne had really been looking forward to the morning. How could he get them back on track? “I’m sorry.”
Dash’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it and simply stared.
“Yes, I’m a privileged asshole, but I can apologize. I invaded your privacy. It’s the only way I can bring myself to allow a stranger into my home.”
Dash considered Thorne’s words for several tense seconds. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I can accept that.”
“Truly, it has nothing to do with your profession.”
“Personal chef or my usual one?”
Thorne smiled. At least Dash appeared less tense now. “You’d make an excellent chef. I’d hire you.”
“Good to know.”
Thorne wondered if Dash would consider doing exactly that, working for Thorne as a chef, among other things.
“You know my real name now too,” Thorne pointed out.
“Mr. Shipton?”
“Bradford Thornwell Shipton. I went by Thorne in school because there were several Brads and I wanted to be different.”
Dash looked him up and down. “Trust me. No matter what you call yourself, you’ll always be different.”
Thorne hoped that was a compliment. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, but Thorne didn’t move. “At work, I’m B.T. Shipton, but I like to be Thorne again when I can.”
Dash smiled then, and Thorne realized he’d been forgiven. “It suits you. You’re all prickly, but your defenses hide something rather lovely.”
Dash walked out of the elevator. This time, Thorne was the one who stood frozen, because at that moment he knew without a doubt that he’d fallen for Dash and fallen hard.