Demming by Avril Ashton

Fifteen

Hart stomped into his office after yet another futile meeting. It was impossible working with people who refused to acknowledge that he was a grown man, capable of handling business. He’d had to bite his tongue more than once to keep from cursing out everybody. That would only bolster their thinking.

“You okay?” Kenya followed at his heels as he dropped into his chair, rubbing his temple.

“Yeah, I just…I gotta get out of here.” He needed Sawyer. Losing himself in the other man’s embrace was the only thing that would make him feel better. There were still a whole lot of things he should be focusing on, but that could wait. His need for Sawyer couldn’t.

“Um. There’s a call waiting for you on line one,” Kenya said. “It’s Sydney.”

Hart lifted an eyebrow. Looked as if his thieving ex had finally crawled out of hiding, and he knew why. A smile curved his lips as he waved Kenya off, waiting until she left, closing the door behind her, before picking up the phone on his desk. “Sydney,” he greeted her. “Long time no hear. How are you?”

“Fuck you, Hart!”

“Wow, where is all this anger coming from?” He chuckled as he sat back, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “I mean, you were the one who cheated and ran off. Is there—Is there something else I should know about?”

“Where is it?”

And there it is.“Where is what?” There’d been a point when he’d loved Sydney, but that time was long gone. All he felt was disgust at himself that he hadn’t seen who she was way sooner. She’d taken his painting just to be spiteful because he refused to welcome her back with open arms after he walked in on her fucking her client, a married A-list actor.

“You stole the painting!”.

“No, that’s all you. I simply retrieved what belonged to me.” When she cursed at him, he jerked forward. “Let me be clear, the only reason you aren’t locked up is because I’m not the vindictive type, but that can change if you’re feeling brave and bold. I took back what’s mine. Be grateful I’m not putting you and your sticky fingers on blast. Now, it was nice knowing you. Lose my number and forget you ever knew me.” He hung up with a sigh and got to his feet.

Okay, he was definitely out of there after that conversation.

A short while later, he snuggled into Sawyer’s arms, body humming, feeling the after-effects of being well-fucked. He pressed a kiss to Sawyer’s shoulder as the other man stroked his head, chuckling as he shared the Sydney phone call.

When his laughter died away, Sawyer said, “I noticed you’ve been preoccupied these past few days. Something happening at work?”

Hart had tried his best to not show it, but clearly, he hadn’t done a good enough job. He blew out a breath. “This deal I’m working on…” He shook his head. “The other side has worked with my dad in the past, a lot. They know him, have gotten used to the way he did business. Now I’m the one sitting where my old man used to be and all they see is his kid.” He moved out of Sawyer’s embrace and sat up. “It’s like they refuse to see me as anything else. A few of them were around when I was growing up so that’s all they see and it’s frustrating because they’re not allowing me to be who I am.”

Sawyer stroked his arm, giving him the space to vent. Because that’s what he was doing. He didn’t know if any of it would change. Maybe time would be the decider. He just didn’t know.

“They don’t take anything I do or say seriously, and can I tell you how fucked up that is when this deal has the potential to be the most lucrative one in our company’s history?”

“I’m sorry,” Sawyer murmured, tugging him back into the comfort of his naked chest. “People can be fucked up sometimes.”

Hart snorted. An understatement if ever there was one.

“What’s your recourse? Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Not really. This is my deal so I’m not letting anybody else negotiate it. I sought it out, I brought it to the table, and I know it inside and out.”

“Can you change who’s on the other side then? Take it to another company? Whoever you’re dealing with now can’t be the only ones out there.”

They weren’t, but they were top of the list where this particular project was concerned. Although... He cocked his head. That had been his father’s list. Every company he dealt with was in their Rolodex because his father put them there. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” He grinned. “I’m building affordable student housing and a shopping complex. I should seek out smaller companies, minority-owned.” He tapped himself on the head. “I hadn’t even thought about that, as I’ve been too busy following in my father’s footsteps doing the same old shit with the same old—literally—people. Thank you.”

Sawyer kissed his nose. “Glad I could help.”

He said it as if it didn’t matter, but to Hart it did. So much. Hart gazed at him, staring into his eyes. “I’m glad you walked into my office that morning.” He pushed Sawyer back and straddled him. “I’m so fucking glad.”

* * *

“What putthat look in your eyes?”

Demming blinked at his mother, who sat across the table from him. It’d been just the two of them for dinner, Bryce too busy with his band to spare some time for them. Demming didn’t mind, but he knew his mother did, so he’d tried his best to keep her distracted throughout the dinner she’d prepared for them, telling her stories of the different places he’d traveled without giving too much away.

Her question came at the end of their meal as she sipped a coffee.

“What look?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, you just seem…different. Not so reserved as before.”

He didn’t know what she meant by reserved—he wasn’t aware he’d been like that with her—but he did get what she meant about him being different; he felt different and it was all due to one man. He’d planned to tell her about Hart, so this was the perfect segway. He cleared his throat. “I’m seeing someone.”

Her eyes widened. “You are?”

She didn’t have to look so shocked. “A man.”

It should have been impossible for her eyes to get any bigger but there they were, threatening to take up her entire face. “A man?” She cocked her head as if she hadn’t heard him perfectly the first time.

He didn’t have any reason to believe she wouldn’t be supportive, but he still tensed. “Yes.”

“Oh honey, I didn’t know you were…that you liked men.” Her expression turned from shocked to wounded, as if he’d kept a major secret from her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t—I’ve never—He’s my first.”

She stared at him, a smile slowly growing until it almost eclipsed her features. “He must be someone special then.”

“He is,” he agreed hoarsely. Now he had to tell her Hart’s identity. “His name is Hart Taylor-Asamoah.”

Her nose wrinkled, eyes squinted. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He’s Emmanuel Asamoah’s son.”

She blinked at him, expression turning cautious. “Is he?”

“I didn’t mean to be”—he waved a hand—“involved with him. It just—It happened and I don’t regret it.”

She took his hand, cradling it in hers. “He’s the reason you’re happy.”

He nodded.

“That you’re still in town.”

Another nod.

Her smile trembled, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I would like to meet him,” she said softly.

“And you don’t care about his father?”

“Honey.” She cupped his face. “The only person who ever blamed that man for your father’s death was you.”

He was beginning to realize that yes, he was the only one who’d turned Emmanuel Asamoah into the villain, responsible for all of his family’s problems.

“I don’t care who you love, you or your brother,” his mother continued. “As long as they make you happy and bring out the best in you.”

Would his father have told him the same thing? Demming wanted to believe so.