Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
That was it. Darius walked into the back, grabbed the suit, and tossed it at Mr. Thompson.
“That was your last chance. Do not enter my shop again.”
The man actually looked shocked. “What? You’re leaving it like this?”
“I am.”
“You said you’d fix it.”
“You’ve not paid, and I owe you nothing.”
“I’ll tell everyone about you.”
“Go ahead. But do it some place other than my shop.”
The man stomped away, nearly running down a much younger man who was approaching the door.
Darius took a deep breath. Why was his timing so fucking bad today? He wasn’t in any shape to deal with even the best customer now.
The young man glanced back at Thompson, and Darius glared at the old man as he tromped down the stairs. Maybe the motherfucker would fall and break his neck.
“I’m sorry,” the young man said. “Is this a bad time? My boss said you make the best suits, so I—”
“No, it’s not a bad time at all.” Not if I can keep from being an arsehole. “Who was it that sent you?”
The man looked flustered, like a puppy that couldn’t quite figure out the world yet. It was fucking adorable.
“Mr. Shipton. I just started working for him. I’m Ryan, by the way. Ryan Sewell.”
Thank God, Ryan wouldn’t be a troublemaker if Thorne sent him.
“Good morning, Ryan. I’m Darius, the owner.” And currently the only fucking employee. “Mr. Shipton is an excellent customer, and I’m confident you’ll be pleased with my work.” Anyone would be. “Would you like a cup of coffee or… I guess it’s early for wine, but I’m happy to pour you some if you’d like.”
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
“Then step right this way, and I’ll get you measured.”
By the time Darius had the numbers he needed, he’d sloughed off the rage Thompson had stirred.
From now on, he needed to be more selective about who he took on as a client. He had a good client base. He didn’t have to deal with arseholes, no matter how wealthy they were. While there might not be a large pool of customers who could afford hand-tailoring, there were enough. He wasn’t going to starve. In fact, he might be due for a long vacation.
“Thank you for coming in, Ryan. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”
Darius used to scold himself for flirting with the customers. Then he realized how much most of them enjoyed it, even if they didn’t realize what was going on. If he read things right, and he usually did, Ryan identified as straight now, but his cock might tell him differently one day.
Flirting with clients was one thing, but he had a firm rule that employees were off-limits. So he was annoyed as fuck that the second Ryan waved a shy good-bye and shut the door, his mind turned right back to Marc and all the nasty things he wanted to do to him. He needed a competent assistant far more than he needed another man to fuck, but Marc’s arse was perfection, and he longed to get his hands on it.
His business was doing well, but the last thing he needed was any kind of scandal associated with the shop. He wasn’t in the closet, and he flirted openly, but he still had plenty of clients who had no idea he was gay. Not every man who wanted fine clothes was as interested in cock as Darius was. Several of them would likely try to run him out of business if they knew what he got up to most weekends.
Of course, Marc wasn’t his employee yet. What was his story? He said he had experience in fashion, but Darius had a feeling he was exaggerating the extent of it. His tone of voice had said he was covering something up. Darius knew that tone well because he often used it himself.
Maybe Thorne could tell him what he wanted to know. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found Thorne.
Thorne answered just as Darius thought it would go to voice mail. “The suit was perfect as you well know, so I doubt that’s why you’re calling.”
“It’s not.”
“Well, then?”
He loved making Thorne wait. The man was one of the least patient people he’d ever met. “Your boy’s friend, Marc. Tell me what you know about him.”
“Riley is not my boy.”
Darius smiled. “That’s interesting, because he made sure I knew you were not available.”
“Did he now?” He could hear the pride in Thorne’s voice.
“He did. Don’t worry, I told him I’d never fucked you.”
Thorne made a choking sound. “You would.”
“Would you rather I’d left him guessing?”
“No, I—”
“Tell me about Marc.”
“Why?” Thorne asked. “Are you interested?”
“Who wouldn’t be? He wants a job as my assistant.”
Thorne chuckled. “Another one quit on you?”
Darius scowled. “The arsehole didn’t even bother to turn up and tell me he quit.”