OVER THE next month, we worked into a routine. I would show up at Rivera’s apartment at eight, eat breakfast, deliver a few packages or pick up things for him— yes, the dry cleaning was my responsibility— and knock off around five.

He always made sure I ate something for lunch. Sometimes it was room service at his place, and sometimes Carlos and I would stop and eat together on Rivera’s dime.

I got paid on Fridays. Five hundred dollars in cash. I opened a bank account and put most of the money in savings. When I felt like I had enough, I planned on getting my own apartment.

“So, we’re officially in month two,” Rivera said over breakfast one Thursday morning. “How are you liking it so far?”

“I love it,” I admitted. “Best job ever.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, clearly pleased. “And what do you think of Carlos?”

“He talks a lot, but I really like that about him. I’ve never met a man who knew so many dirty jokes. He seems like a good family man, too. When he’s not making me laugh, he’s talking about his wife and two daughters like they hung the moon.”

“That definitely sounds like Carlos. He thinks a lot of you, too.” He sat back in his chair and spread a bit of marmalade onto a biscuit, took a bite, and chewed for a moment before continuing. “He’s a good kid, Carlos told me. Doesn’t say much, but you can tell there’s a lot going on in that head of his.”

I laughed self-consciously. “Well, it’s hard to get a word in with Carlos.”

“He asked for my blessing to introduce you to his youngest daughter, Stephanie.”

“Why?” I blurted, looking at Rivera with wide eyes.

He smiled indulgently. “You’re her age, smart, handsome… and you have a good job that has the potential to become a great one if you play your cards right. Like you said, Carlos is a good family man. He’s looking out for his girls.”

“I don’t get it. Why would he ask for your blessing?”

“You’re one of mine now. Under my protection. Carlos understands how it works.”

“Oh.” It was silly, but I liked the way it made me feel to know Rivera considered me one of his. I’d never felt protected in my life. “What did you tell Carlos? Did you give him your blessing?”

Rivera scrubbed his fingertips along the stubble at his jaw before answering. “I told him I’d have to think about it. Really, I just wanted to talk to you about it first. For all I know, you already have someone.”

“No,” I said without thinking to camouflaging the truth. “I don’t have anybody.”

“So you want to meet his daughter?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to meet anyone’s daughter. I just want to do my job and save up my money.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For college, Mr. Rivera.”

He laughed. “I think we’re past the Mr. Rivera stage, Peter. Call me Gio.”

Gio. My heart soared.

He popped the last bit of biscuit into his mouth and licked a smear of marmalade from his top lip. I looked away, uncomfortable at how seeing him licking his lip made me feel. I was getting hard, and that was all kinds of wrong.

“So you don’t want a girlfriend, or you just don’t have one at the moment? You’re a young guy. I can’t imagine you’re so focused on being responsible that you don’t think about—”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. We both knew what he meant.

Sex.

“I do want—”

What the hell had I been about to say? I couldn’t be honest with him. Not about that.

He cleared his throat, looking nervous for the first time. “At the risk of overstepping boundaries, I’d like to offer you something.”

My head jerked up, and I stared at him, terrified of what was going to come out of his mouth next.

He took a deep breath. “I have the ability and the means to make things happen for you, Peter. There are women here in Vegas who would love to show you a good time, no strings attached. Nice, clean women. Quality women.”

“No,” I practically yelled.

Dammit, I didn’t want a hooker, quality or otherwise. There was currently only one thing I wanted, and it wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

“Have I said something wrong?” Gio asked. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was only trying to figure out where your head is at. I’m not sure how to do that without asking questions.”

“Stop,” I said, the word barely a whisper.

He stood and came around behind me, placing a hand gently on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Peter. I just want you to be honest with me. I want to be someone you can confide in. Someone you can count on. I care about you. Remember what I said? You’re under my protection.”

“I don’t want you to find me a woman,” I said. “That’s all I can tell you.”

I was playing with fire. I could easily have told him I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of being with a prostitute. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to come right out and tell him I was gay, but part of me—the perverse and needy part of me—wanted him to know. Needed him to look into my eyes and see who I was.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked, shocked at my own courage. Because I wanted to know where Gio’s head was at, too. It was a long shot, but maybe our heads weren’t all that far apart. There was even a slim possibility that they were in exactly the same place.

I hadn’t seen any evidence of Gio having a love life. He hadn’t mentioned any women, and none had come around. I supposed he could have just been unconcerned with such things, but I got the distinct impression that he was a sensual person. And the way he looked at me sometimes was confusing. I wished I could see him now, but he was still behind me. Still had his hand on my shoulder.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, leaning in close to my ear. “Would you like to know why?”

I shuddered at his nearness, at the husky tone in his voice, and the feel of his breath against the side of my neck.

“Yes,” I whispered.

But before he could reply, a knock sounded at the door. Gio growled and went to see who it was, leaving my shoulder cold where his hand had been.

“I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me,” Gio said.

His tone was hard, as was his expression, and I was reminded of how he had spoken to my father. In all the time we had spent together, he’d never been less than kind to me, and I’d forgotten that he was not a saint. That he was probably a criminal, and I was working for him.

Gio led a heavyset man into his office and closed the door. I tried to tune out their muffled voices because I figured whatever they were saying was none of my business, but it was impossible to ignore the tone of the exchange. Gio sounded angry, but he didn’t get belligerent and yell like my father would have. He kept his voice low and steady, and there was an edge to it that sent a chill down my spine.

When they were done talking, the big guy stormed out of the apartment, glaring at me over his shoulder as he slammed the door. Gio stared at the door for a moment, his eyes cold and angry. Then he turned to me, and his expression softened.

“Did you see that, Peter? It was not my imagination that he just slammed my fucking door, right?”

I shook my head, eyes wide.

“Some people never learn.” Gio smiled wistfully and crossed the room, pulling an apple from the crystal bowl on the counter and biting in. Then he looked at me and cocked his head as he chewed and swallowed. “What do you think I should do about it? Should I let it go, or is some punishment in order?”

I squirmed in my seat and chose my words carefully. “I guess it depends on whether or not he works for you.”

“He is my employee, yes.”

“And does he have a legitimate reason for being upset?”

Gio laughed. “I suppose everyone thinks their anger is justified. But I think he’s wrong, and his irreverence is dangerous in my business. I can’t afford to be seen as weak. If I don’t do anything about his behavior, he’s going to think he can get away with it. Then he’ll be bitching about me behind my back, making other employees think they can come into my home and slam my door. Next thing you know, people will start thinking they don’t have to listen to a word I say. They won’t respect me.”

“And that would be bad.”

He nodded. “Very bad. Respect is the only thing standing between me and a prison sentence, Peter. Or worse, a bullet.”

“Then I guess you have no choice.”

“I like the way you think,” he said with a smile. “You’re a sensitive person, but you understand that when push comes to shove, you do what you have to do.”

“Exactly,” I said. But I couldn’t help wondering what kind of punishment I’d just signed the disgruntled employee up for. “Mr. Rivera, I—”

“I told you to call me Gio,” he said. “From now on. I think you’ve earned that.”

“Okay, Gio.” The name still felt strange on my lips, but it gave me a thrill all the same. We were getting close. “I was just going to say I don’t want to get anybody fired.”

He looked at me strangely. “Who are you looking out for? Him or me? Has that man earned your loyalty? Do you even know his name?”

“Of course not. That was stupid of me to say. I was just feeling insecure. Like who am I to say who deserves what?”

He nodded. “Let me make it simple for you. I look out for you, and you look out for me. Always.”

I smiled. “That does make it very simple. I really want to do what’s right. For you.”

He leaned against the counter and gave me a lazy smile. “You want me to be proud of you, don’t you? You want to please me. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me.”

I faltered, unsure of how to answer. “Um… yes. I’ve never had—”

Jesus, what was I saying? Was I just going to spill my guts to him? Tell him what a shitty fucking home life I had? Tell him that sometimes I imagined slicing my father’s throat, and even worse, sometimes I imagined slicing my own just to get away?

“I understand,” he said. “You may not know this, but you communicate so much with your eyes it’s almost scary. I ask you questions all the time, and I rarely get a straight answer from your lips. But your eyes… They give you away every time.”

“Really?” My face colored.

What had I inadvertently communicated to Gio over the month we had been working so closely together? Could he see my darkest secrets? Could he sense how I felt about him? Did he know I had fallen so hard I was afraid I’d never be able to look at another man again without seeing his face?

“Like that,” he said. “You’re like an open book. Like a Shakespearean tragedy unfolding in front of me. So sweet. So vulnerable. I just want to make everything okay for you, Peter. Will you let me do that?”

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling my throat tighten around a sob. “I want you to make everything okay.”

He nodded. “You’re dismissed for the rest of the day.” He pulled a credit card out of his wallet and handed it to me. “Go to the mall and buy whatever catches your eye. Doesn’t matter what you spend. I can afford it. And get something new to wear that isn’t a suit. Choose something you love.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, not even trying to hide my shock.

“I’m positive. You want to make me happy, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then go spend a lot of fucking money. Try to shock me. I’m going to check my statement, and if the amount doesn’t make me do a double take, I’m going to be very unhappy.”

I tucked his credit card into my pocket and wandered out of the apartment in a daze. What did he think was a lot of money? A hundred dollars? A thousand? I headed over to the pool hall to get Theo, because I was going to need some help.