Hearsay (12 page)

Roman downed half his glass of scotch in one gulp, wishing the hard liquor would burn away the conversation he'd overhead as thoroughly as it was burning his throat.

The fact that Derrick may have been involved hadn't been that big of an issue when they had first met. Roman was busy getting out of his dysfunctional relationship with James, and back then he'd only seen Derrick as the insanely hot associate he would've loved to be able to ask on a date. Then they'd spent a few minutes talking at one of the firm's holiday parties two years after Derrick started working with them, and Roman had fallen under his spell.

His flirty smile made Roman's stomach do little flips at the most inconvenient moments, and he always got goosebumps all over when their gazes locked. But, as attracted as he'd been from the time he first laid eyes on Derrick, the fact remained he hadn't been in a position to act on their mutual attraction. Roman had been attached to the biggest douche in the universe at the time, whereas Derrick had the option to go out with whoever he wanted.

For years Roman had fluctuated between forbidding himself from thinking about all the things he wanted to do with and
to
his employee, and praying Derrick didn't find someone before Roman was free to pursue a relationship with him. This was why he'd been ecstatic when Derrick told him he was single the first time they had lunch by the Gapstow Bridge. But his relief had been short-lived. Life had thrown him a hell of a curveball, and, instead of moving forward the way he'd wanted, Roman was forced to a screeching halt. Alternate bouts of rage and depression hadn't changed his situation, and he'd finally come to accept there could never be anything between Derrick and him.

"But we're both single and a little desperate right now, and he has such a pretty cock."

Roman finished the rest of his drink and slammed the glass on the polished surface of the bar cabinet.
 

He'd always known there wasn't a chance that Derrick hadn't been with other men in the past several years. Not only did he have the exotic coloring and facial features that some people would kill for, but he was also charming and sexy as hell. The gay men of NYC had probably started knocking on his door the moment he hit puberty. Derrick believed in love over lust and was rather traditional when it came to long-term relationships, but only an idiot would think the guy never took advantage of some of the opportunities presented to him.

Roman knew Derrick wasn't a virgin, and, of course, he didn't have a problem with that. Hell, he didn't even have that big of an issue with the fact that those rumors Sergio and Alan mentioned about Derrick and Tyler being lovers had turned out to be true. But he drew the line at listening to Derrick talk about fucking Tyler. He considered being manipulated into sitting at the same table with them mere hours after they'd had sex, and maybe even hours before they had sex again, a personal affront.

Derrick hadn't told Tashana Woods the name of the man he was meeting the previous night. Or maybe he had and Roman hadn't heard him, but he'd known it was Tyler Coleman the instant he walked into the conference room and saw them sitting together.

His stomach had tightened at the sight of them. He'd felt a burning sensation in his chest and had started breathing faster than usual when he saw Derrick smile at his
friend
.

And Roman had known.

He'd damn well known.

Roman stripped off his shirt, poured himself a third drink, and walked over to his desk to boot up his laptop.

Keeping busy had been his default antidote for emotional distress since he was a kid. Back when he was in college, he'd thrown himself into his classes, internships, and extracurricular activities while he worked up the nerve to come out to his family. Three years ago he'd worked fourteen hours most days while he dealt with James and the financial crisis. He'd been so exhausted that he almost fainted in court one day. And ten months ago, before he was able to calm down and figure out a new direction in his life, he'd been handling so many cases that he'd ended up sleeping in his office for three weeks straight. Not Alan, Sergio, or his parents had been able to convince him to go
home
.

A suite in a five star hotel wasn't a home, and that's where he had been living since walking away from James. Eventually he'd purchased this house. His mother had insisted it was a huge step in reclaiming his life, and one simply didn't argue with Ruth Bradford. Plus the house boasted a rare interior court garden that Roman had been unable to resist. Not because he was all that into green spaces, but because it reminded him of Derrick, whose paternal family was from the south. He had mentioned during their lunch dates how pretty he thought Louisiana was, and Roman knew Derrick would've loved the courtyard that was more reflective of a house in New Orleans.

But his four-floor townhouse wasn't a home either. He'd been living in it for the past eight months, and it still felt like just a place… a place that looked like a showroom, was depressingly void of warmth, and was kept in tip-top shape by a cleaning service.

Roman lifted his glass and sipped a smaller amount of scotch as he surveyed the golden-colored tufted sofas, the coffee tables and end tables, and the lamps in the library.
 

He hadn't had the energy or desire to shop for furniture other than what he wanted to go in the library and his bedroom. He wasn't in the mood to entertain, and he didn't give a rat's ass how the other rooms looked. He'd given carte blanche to the interior designer his mother hired and paid her astronomic fee, but he hadn't bothered to add any personal touches to the place. Some days he thought it was time he stopped by his storage unit and retrieved the few art pieces he'd managed to hide before James got his hands on them, but he didn't see the point. Art wouldn't bring him happiness. He didn't know if anything ever would.

He swallowed the scotch and opened his email program to read the motivational quote his mother had emailed him that day.

"Your task is not to seek love, but to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

Rumi

Out of the dozens of quotes his mother had sent in the past year, this was the one that had given Roman pause, prompting him to analyze his reasons to back off from a possible relationship with Derrick.

He was an employee.

He was twelve years Roman's junior.

He had mentioned he didn't know if he could deal with watching the love of his life waste away.

And that was that.

Roman had then evaluated those reasons until he'd felt sick to his stomach and ultimately decided Derrick deserved better than being with a man that couldn't share every part of himself.
 

Up to the moment he'd read that quote, Roman had been convinced that he was being courageous by sacrificing his feelings in favor of Derrick's needs. That he was being noble by keeping his distance and letting Derrick find someone who wouldn't bring limitations into his life. The decision was emotionally taxing, but wanting the best for Derrick had been a driving force that had kept Roman strong.

It was all about Derrick's happiness, he'd told himself time and again. About the quality of the many, many years he had ahead of him. Roman was doing the right thing by not interfering with it.

Or so he'd thought.
 

Reading that quote from Rumi had made him consider the possibility that he could've been more concerned about protecting his own heart than he'd been about protecting Derrick's interest. Getting close to Derrick only to have him walk away once he'd learned the truth about Roman would be devastating, and he'd been through a lot of pain in the past few years. He wasn't sure he could handle that additional distress.

For the longest time, he'd truly believed he was being selfless and even a little heroic, but what if he was just being a coward? What if he'd avoided Derrick mostly because he was scared of taking a risk and getting hurt?

He lifted his glass and said, "Here's to you, Rumi. I have you to thank for making me second-guess myself…" He gulped down his drink, placed the glass on the desk, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And a modern day saint and savior of children to thank for my homicidal thoughts…" He wiped his mouth again. "Fuck you both."

"But we're both single and a little desperate right now, and he has such a pretty cock."

Roman took off his glasses and buried his face in his hands.

Following Alan's suggestion and asking Derrick to second-chair on the Coleman case was something Roman had done in a moment of weakness. He'd regretted his words the instant they left his mouth, but seeing Derrick's face light up with pleasure and excitement had rendered Roman incapable of withdrawing his offer. He knew he'd made a mistake by asking but told himself spending hours with the man he needed to avoid at all costs wouldn't be quite so difficult.

Turns out he had been wrong.

It never crossed his mind that Derrick would dare to lie to Roman about his relationship with Coleman, and being in the presence of the happy couple, or whatever the hell they were, was more than Roman could take.

He didn't want to witness their closeness and silent communication.

He didn't want to drive himself insane trying to guess if they'd spent the previous night in bed.

"This week's been hell and if the guy thinks that sucking me off and fucking me through the mattress will help him, who am I to object? Plus, I'm horny. I'm so horny I could fuck a tree. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I got laid?"

He admitted there was a chance Derrick and Coleman weren't fucking, but they
had
fucked, maybe as recently as a few hours ago, and Roman didn't like it.

"I don't like it at all," he mumbled, fighting a bout of nausea but happy to see the scotch was doing its job.

He hadn't been extremely bothered by thoughts of Derrick's hypothetical lovers in the past, but meeting one of them was a completely different story. Roman could never have foreseen how much it would distress him.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes slowly, minimized the email program, and clicked on a folder that contained pictures in which Derrick had been captured front and center. Roman had taken them with his phone at the firm's most recent picnic at Central Park. Doing so made him feel like he was some kind of creepy stalker, but he didn't regret his actions. Avoiding Derrick meant it could be months before they ran into each other by accident, and he hadn't been able to restrain himself. He needed to see Derrick, and pictures were perfectly safe.

Instead of taking a chance and giving Derrick the opportunity to clarify something he'd said months ago, he had stayed away and resorted to sneaking pictures of the man.
 

"Jesus, Roman," he muttered, getting up and grabbing the bottle of scotch from the bar cabinet. "You're pathetic."

"If the guy thinks that sucking me off and fucking me through the mattress will help him, who am I to object? Plus, I'm horny. I'm so horny I could fuck a tree. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I got laid?"

He shook his head at the obsessive, repetitive thoughts to no avail.

A vision of Derrick with pleading eyes, flushed cheeks, and kiss-swollen lips combined with the memory of his cock pushing against the soft material of his pants made Roman hard instantly. Derrick was a beautiful specimen of a man. No doubt he would look breathtaking in the throes of passion, and Roman wanted to see it. More than anything, he wanted to be the one fucking Derrick through the mattress. He wanted to be the one making him horny… the one making sure Derrick never went more than a few days without getting laid.

He unbuckled his belt, lowered his zipper, and slid one hand down his pants, holding himself in an almost painful grip.

He had no idea how often Derrick had sex, but it had been over a year and a half for Roman. He wouldn't necessarily "fuck a tree," but he would definitely fuck Derrick until neither of them could move.

Don't go there. You know it will never happen.
 

"But what if Sergio's right?" he asked the empty library. "What if Derrick didn't really mean what he said?"

Do not go there.
 

It was true that not taking a chance made him a coward, but he couldn't forget there was more at risk than his heart.

He wants you, too. And things aren't as bleak as you think sometimes. Science has advanced incredibly in the past thirty years.
 

"No."

It could work…

"You're forty-four," he reminded himself. "You're already at a disadvantage, and you know severe stress will only worsen your condition. You can't do this to yourself. Fuck, man. You can't do this to Derrick."

But you're already stressed out. What if—

"No!"

Roman took his hand out of his pants and rolled his shoulders. Bottle firmly held in his other hand, he stumbled back to his desk and turned off the laptop without looking at the pictures.

"This stops tonight," he said in a tone that should've been much firmer. "You have to let this stupid dream go."

Removing Derrick from the case was the smartest thing he'd done in the past few days, and, once he had taken care of the Coleman case, Roman would find a way to avoid temptation on a permanent basis.
 

No opening up to Derrick about the reason that kept him away.

No putting him on the spot by making him repeat something he had already stated.

No awkward moment.

No emotional pain.

They both needed to move on.

Chapter Nine

Derrick arrived at the Trenton Building at seven o'clock in the morning the next day.

Making the decision to pursue Roman had been extremely easy. Coming up with ways to approach his boss if he didn't reinstate Derrick as second-chair in the Coleman case? Not so much. After countless hours of tossing and turning and entertaining the most ludicrous ideas, he'd given up on getting any sleep and finally gotten out of bed.