Paul got back into the cab with his latte. He gave the cabby the address for his building. As he sipped his latte he began to calm down. Jason should never fuck with him in the morning, before his coffee. If he had not adequately made that point clear this morning he would make it crystal fucking clear in Jason's fucking written agreement.

He would create a line in all CAPS that said, "Do NOT fucking wake me up abruptly, with stupid fucking kinky sexual demands, and without my fucking coffee.

Paul's phone rang again, Jason concerned voice asking, "Where are you, babe?"

"I'm drinking my fucking latte in the back of a fucking cab. Bye the way, he has better fucking manners than you do. He got me a fucking latte, before trying to expose me to bullshit. Leave me alone, Jason. I'll call or text you in the morning." Paul slammed his phone closed and turned it completely off.

Jason was already in Paul's building waiting for him. He knew the moment that Paul saw him he would probably explode in anger, but he did not care. He went inside the building and met with the doorman. He said, "My boyfriend Paul is angry at me and he's on his way here. I want to try and talk to him before he goes upstairs."

The doorman looked confused, and asked "Do you mean Mr. Paul Thoreau?" Jason nodded and said "Yes."

The doorman looked dubiously at Jason and crossed his arms. "I think you may be mistaken. Mrs. Thoreau is upstairs waiting for Mr. Thoreau."

Jason was floored. More than floored, he was devastated. He had been safe worded, now lied too... and fucking generally strung along. Paul had told Jason he was divorced.

He was surprised because he generally regarded himself as street smart. Maybe Paul was the player. Maybe he was playing him for a fool. Maybe he was running some game on Jason. He would get to the bottom of this. He sat down on the nearest couch, and waited for Paul. The doorman continued to scowl at him. About ten minutes later Paul walked into the lobby, nursing his latte, his mood obviously black.

The doorman said with a pointed look on his face, "Mrs. Thoreau is waiting upstairs and there is a Mr. Jason Cross is here to see you."

Paul ground out, "jesus fucking christ! Are you fucking kidding me? That is JUST FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!" He stormed toward the elevator.

Jason quickly got up and followed behind Paul to the elevator. Once inside, Paul leveled a look at Jason and said, "you are not going to fair well with my ex-wife and I have no fucking clue what you think you are doing by coming upstairs with me."

Jason was not sure either, but he felt that the relationship was at stake. His instincts told him that whatever Paul and he had shared, thus far, was worth fighting for. He could handle Paul's anger and moodiness. Clearly he had to setup some protocols to make sure Paul's needs were better cared for.

What he was less sure about was the dissolution of Paul's marriage, and what threat that posed to their relationship. That was the real reason he was following Paul upstairs. They arrived at the Penthouse suite.

Jason realized that Paul was wealthy but did not expect this level of opulence. He had the penthouse. They exited the private elevator and entered the suite. Mrs. Thoreau was standing in the kitchen mixing a pitcher of martinis. She glanced up to smile at Paul, but was surprised to see Jason follow Paul into the apartment.

She said, "Good morning darling. I was just packing up the last of my things and wanted to make one final toast. Who is your friend?"

Jason stepped forward, authoritatively and said, "Jason Cross. I"m a financial analyst at Paul's firm."

Mrs. Thoreau leaned back against the bar and looked at Jason and asked, "Why are you here this morning Jason?" "Because I work with Paul, I care about him, and I want to support him."

Paul interuppted, "Liliana, when will you be leaving? I need to collect your key."


Mara Copa

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