Payoff (Market Garden, #6)(9)

Rolex shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I can . . .” He paused, looking Jared up and down. “There’s a robe in the bathroom.” Gesturing at the door off to the side of the suite, he added, “If you want to wear that so you don’t get cold.”

Jared glanced down at himself. He did his job naked, of course, but for the first time, he felt uncomfortable and, yes, a little bit cold. “Thank you.”

Rolex offered a faint smile, then got up and went into the bathroom.

Turning to Tristan, Jared whispered, “Are you okay?”

Tristan nodded, but that was the extent of his response.

Jared lay across the bed and reached over the footboard for Tristan’s hand. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Swallowing hard, Tristan met his eyes. He took a breath and looked like he was about to speak, but then his eyes darted to the side just as the bathroom door creaked quietly.

Rolex stepped out, a fluffy white dressing gown in his hand. He’d put on what Jared guessed were his workout clothes—track pants, a plain T-shirt. It was odd to see him dressed so casually after the expensive suits he’d worn whenever he’d come to Market Garden, but what about this moment wasn’t odd?

Jared sat up and took the dressing gown. “Thanks,” he said as he pulled it around his shoulders.

“You’re welcome.” Rolex’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them. Then he picked up his wallet, watch, and mobile off the table. “I’ll just step out for a few minutes.”

No one said another word. Jared had no idea what could be said at this point, so he just avoided both Rolex and Tristan’s eyes until the door to the suite had closed, and he and Tristan were alone.

He reached over the footboard again and took Tristan’s hand. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I just can’t do it.” Tristan looked up at him, and he seemed more hurt than anything, though he was still hard to read.

“Do what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. He’s no different to other tricks, is he?”

It took Jared a moment to realise that was an actual question that Tristan wanted an answer for. “Uh. No. Guess not. No different.”

“Then why—” Tristan lifted his shoulders. “Why do I get upset to see some stranger f*ck you?”

“Uh. Why are you asking me?”

“It’s not even some weird delayed response to anything that happened.”

Jared held Tristan’s hand in both of his. “Whatever this is, it’s been brewing for a while. The whole evening’s been off.” He paused. “And this isn’t the first time.”

Tristan flinched, but nodded. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. It’s like that thing that happened to my cousin. She’s a hairdresser. Did really well for like five years and suddenly gets all these crazy allergies that mean she can’t get anywhere near shampoo and hair dyes. It’s like her body went, ‘that’s enough now,’ and just stopped.”

The comparison struck Jared as odd, but he figured it probably made sense. It was just so strange that it would be Tristan. Tristan was always so in control of the situation. Hell, Jared had learned most of his tricks from him, ever the eager student. They were friends, they were colleagues, and sex with a pro was better than any he’d had. Not that he had extensive experience dating fellow hookers. But date they had. Cinema, chatting in coffee shops before work. Mates-with-benefits, though there was always the lingering thought they could be more. For one, neither of them had been dating anybody else. Both of them had mentioned—repeatedly—how much easier their thing was than dating outside the Garden, because other people usually freaked out over dating a sex worker. Same people probably who wouldn’t mind paying one.

“So what’s the upsetting part? That we were kissing?” If he managed to establish new boundaries, things might end up less awkward when they were working together. Assuming they could work together after this. He couldn’t even see how they’d get through this evening, never mind another one.

“I don’t know which it is.” Tristan leaned forwards, but his face was still distant. “Watching you kiss someone else, I . . . hell, maybe it’s the ‘stranger’ part. I don’t think I’d mind that much if it were a friend. I quite like threesomes, normally.”

Jared regarded him silently for a moment. “So is it him?” He gestured around the room as if that somehow implied Rolex. “Or me?”

Tristan lowered his gaze. Barely whispering, he said, “I think it’s both.” He shook his head. “It’s you. Him. Any john. Me.”

Frustration coiled inside Jared’s chest. Whatever was bothering Tristan, he desperately wanted to get to the root of it so he could help, and it drove him crazy that this was the one time in the history of the universe that Tristan couldn’t articulate his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

Tristan took in a long breath as if he were about to speak, but let it out. He stayed silent for a long time, and the only sound in the room was the soft hiss of his thumb running back and forth across Jared’s.

Finally, he pulled in another breath and met Jared’s eyes. “I think things have changed between us.”

Jared’s heart dropped. “In what way?”