"Listen to me, you sneaky little fuck..."
James slammed his hand down on the desk, snarling into his headphones. "No.
No fucking way, Warren. You listen to me. I want that equipment delivered, and
I want it delivered quietly and on time. We spend an amazing amount of capital with your company, and I have clients arriving in twelve hours."
Twelve hours to get the compound ready for three scenarios. Then five days to ensure that everything went off without a hitch. He had been planning this week for three months, and getting the table in was the last piece of a vicious fucking puzzle.
Three months of work for an income of one and a half million dollars.
James would be damned if Warren's lack of planning on the mainland fucked this up. He got the assurances he needed, Warren sniveling and simpering, the fool. The last thing he wanted to hear when he finally hung up on the man was a sharp knock on his door.
"What?" He didn't allow visitors in his cabin.
Guard's voice came through the door. "Let me in, James. Your fucking phone has been busy all damn day."
"I'm been working." Asshole. He wheeled over to the door, checked the monitor. "Are you alone?"
"No, I have twenty naked twinks with me waiting to rush you as soon as the door's open. Of course I'm alone, James. Come on." He could almost hear Guard's eyes roll.
He worked the locks open, one after another, click, click, click.
Asshole. Pushy, bossy, beautiful fucking asshole.
He swung the door open. "What do you want? I'm working."
"I want to check in with you and make sure we're all set for this week. I have clients to greet at the airport in less than two hours, and I've been trying to get a hold of you since this morning." Big, blond, and beautiful, Guard towered over him, all muscles and stupid Hawaiian shirts.
"That shirt is atrocious." He wasn't going to back up, even an inch. Except that he couldn't shut the door with Guard there.
Guard's annoyed look was replaced by a shit-eating grin, and he brushed at his shoulder with one hand. As if lint would be caught dead on anything as atrocious as that. "I like it. It brings out my eyes."
"So would a sharp spoon." James wheeled himself backward.
"You're in a fine mood." Guard stepped in, closing the door behind him and coming toward James.
James kept backing up. "I'm busy." Too busy to play with Guard. Too-too.
"Then let's get right down to business. Where are we with the medical?" Guard hit a few buttons on his iPhone and looked at James expectantly. God, the son of a bitch was beautiful.
"All set but the table and the lights. I have confirmation from Warren that delivery is in four and a half hours."
"That's cutting it close. The doctor wants a chance to look things over before the patient comes in."
"He can look in the morning before the scenario starts. I have a private meal arranged for both parties." Their scenario didn't start until seven a.m.
"The doctor comes in at five, the patient at seven, and we've set them up on two different ends of the island. The last thing we need is for them to run into each other before the fantasy begins." Guard's voice was deep and husky. A voice for seduction.
James ignored Guard's voice and his so very loud shirt. "That's your job, stud. Lock the patient in his cabin if you have to. Whatever. How about Mr. Valenti? That's a delicate situation, and I want it handled right."
Body modifications were a sensitive thing, and that man was in for a week, paid double.
"All the forms have been filled out, as have the waivers. He has a private cabin. It was a smart move, bringing in medical fetish guy's partner as a consultant on Mr. Valenti's fantasy -- an excuse to get him here, but nothing really for him to do. With Mr. Valenti, that is." Guard scrolled through his iPhone, made a few notations.
"That's what you brought me in for." James checked his files. "I have a group of five pros in for the Vicuna/Nedders scenario. Medical files on record, no one new. Oh. Kevin Matthews has given notice; he got a movie deal. We'll need to hire a replacement leather daddy for an on-call status."
"No shit? That sucks -- he was fucking good at his job. Five pros, huh? Can you double check we have enough kitchen staff and food on hand?" Guard was good with details. Not as good as he was, but good.
"Absolutely. Carmen and Luis are in the kitchen, and they brought in Carlos and Tino. No booze available for any scenario, as requested."
"Cool. The Vicuna/Nedders couple are already here, ensconced in their private bungalow. Everyone else is still running on schedule. So from what I can see, we're good to go." Guard looked up from his electronic files, met his gaze.
"Of course we are. I made the arrangements. Have you heard from Damien?"
One of Guard's eyebrows went up. "You mean in recent history?"
"No, I mean in your lifetime." Jackass.
Guard stuck out his tongue. "I've had the same fucking business emails you have. That's it."
"Huh. He'll have to stop in eventually. He'll need money." James wasn't stupid. He cut all the credit cards off if the sneaky bastard didn't check in.
"I suppose." Guard shrugged and shook his head. "Whatever." Then the light blue, laser eyes were trained on him. "You going to have dinner with me tonight, after all the guests are settled?"
His body responded immediately, viciously, the desire that he ignored every second of every day flooding him. Torture. Having Guard this close and not begging for a touch was torture.
"Sure. Carmen's making me pizza."
Guard smiled warmly. "Chicken and onions?"
He nodded. "Feta cheese."
"Make it a double and tell her I want the nice cream soda, not that pink Crush shit."
"I just have good taste. In men as well as food." He could feel Guard's look, right in his gut.
He opened his mouth, then spun around, headed back for his computer. Guard deserved someone whole. James didn't participate in the physical world if he could help it.
James heard a low growl and something that sounded suspiciously like "damned stubborn asshole," and then Guard called out, "I'll see you at ten," and the door slammed closed behind him.
James closed his eyes, let himself remember when there were three of them -- healthy, whole, laughing, loving. If the boys would just give up on him, this whole thing would go easier.
Guard was proving to be stubborn, though, and Damien was probably too mean.
The phone rang, caller ID showing the number for their pilot's cell.
Time to get back to work.