Playing with Fire Page 5

  The sound of a door opening grabbed my attention. At last.

  Only, it wasn’t Damon.

  A guy in a white tunic and checkered pants stuck his head around the door. “You Pete?” From behind him came the clatter and noise of what had to be a very busy kitchen.

  I nodded warily.

  “Well, get your ass in here. You don’t want to be late, do ya?”

  Late? Late for what?

  I didn’t wait around to be asked again. I stepped past him into a bright hallway, boxes and crates piled neatly behind the door. He beckoned for me to follow him and we turned right into a large restaurant kitchen, bustling with at least ten people, and that didn’t include the servers who darted in and out of the swing doors, dressed in black and armed with trays.

  “Wait there.”

  I did as instructed, flattening my body against the wall to stay out of everyone’s way. The place was a hive of activity: dishes being prepared and placed under hot lamps, dirty dishes being piled into sinks full of hot water, sauces being poured, vegetables chopped, pans stirred…

  When a dark-haired guy in a smart gray suit appeared, it was obvious he was Someone: heads turned in his direction and voices were lowered. He glared at the assembled workers.

  “Right, Donny’s in charge, and you’d better make sure every single frigging plate is goddamn perfect, you hear me? Because tonight I’ll be one of the customers, and if I see so much as a spinach leaf out of place, I will come down on you like God Alfrigging Mighty when this shindig is over, you got that?”

  “Got it, chef.” The phrase echoed around the tiled kitchen, heads bobbing nervously.

  He gave them one last baleful stare before turning to gaze at me. “Right, let’s get outta here. Damon’s waiting for you upstairs.” He led me out into the restaurant, where a piano played softly and customers spoke in low voices over candlelit tables. Disappointment welled up inside me as we weaved through them. A goddamn restaurant. So much for a leather club. It looked like the only thing in the cards tonight was dinner. Dinner? What the fuck kind of payback is that? We reached the front desk, where a sharp turn left revealed a staircase covered in red carpet, at the top of which was…

  Damon, leaning against the wall, his gaze focused on me.

  Holy fuck.

  Damon waited beside a closed door, wearing an expensive-looking dark blue suit and white shirt open at the collar, a white handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket. I resisted the urge to lick my lips.

  The chef walked ahead of me up the stairs and stopped in front of him. “He’s all yours. Don’t be too long. You know how she gets.” He flashed a grin in my direction.

  That was when I saw it. The resemblance. I only had to look at those two together to know the chef had to be Damon’s brother. A little younger, sure, but no doubt about it. What the fuck?

  He pulled open the door and disappeared, leaving me standing there with Damon.

  Now what?

  Damon looked me up and down in silence, which got my heartbeat racing.

  “Hey.” Any smart-ass remarks I’d planned flew out of my head at the sight of him, because fuck, he looked downright gorgeous.

  He regarded me with a smile. “You’ll do.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I glared at him. “Now tell me what I’ll do for?” I glanced at my casual attire. Next to Damon, I felt unkempt.

  He doesn’t seem to think so, does he?

  I gave an internal snort. That’s because he’s read the script. He knows what’s coming.

  “I get that you have questions,” he said calmly, “but guess what? I’m not about to answer any of ’em. All you need to know is you owe me after that dirty stunt you pulled, and this is where I collect. Some of it, at least.” He pointed to the door. “Through there.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me what I’m walking into?” I wasn’t panicking, but that surge of disappointment was back. Ever since his text had arrived that morning, I’d been fantasizing about this. Where we’d go. What we’d do. Scrap that—what he’d do to me. The way I figured it, we were about to have dinner, possibly with Damon’s brother, and that wasn’t exactly a scary prospect. Definitely not my idea of payback either.

  Damon snorted. “This is all you’re getting. You’re my date tonight, and it’s my mom’s sixtieth birthday.” He pushed open the door. “And now get in there.”

  His date? His mom?

  Jesus fucking Christ, I’m a dead man walking here.

  I quickly pulled myself together. How bad can it be?

  He stood aside to let me enter. I stepped into the warm room and my jaw dropped.

  In the center of the room, all the tables had been pushed together to form one huge table, around which sat about thirty people, chatting, laughing and drinking. There were old folks yapping and little kids darting around, making a racket. A table set up under the window was piled high with brightly wrapped gifts, and there were balloons everywhere. Music with a Latin rhythm played in the background, and overall the atmosphere was nothing like the elegant restaurant downstairs. This was louder, brasher, livelier.

  It was a freaking family get-together, and I’d just walked in as Damon’s date. Shoot me now.

  Me meeting the BF’s parents—it never went well. I know at twenty-eight, I’d not had the experience all that often, but yeah, every freaking time it ended up being a dreadful occasion. This night has all the hallmarks of a disaster waiting to happen, and Damon isn’t even my boyfriend.

  “You gonna introduce this pretty boy, Damon?”

  I stared at the speaker, an older man in a wrinkled brown suit who was eyeing me like I was the entrée. It gave me the creeps.

  Damon stared too, eyebrows arched. “Uncle Ed, this is Pete. And keep your paws off of him, he’s mine.” He winked at me before grabbing my arm and leading me around the table. Judging from the looks and comments we were getting, I wasn’t expected. By the time we reached the head of the table, the air was buzzing with chatter.

  “Hey, Mama, happy birthday.” Damon bent over to kiss his mom’s cheek. When he straightened, I was caught, pinned by a pair of dark brown eyes so like Damon’s it was uncanny.

  “And who’s this?” Her voice was loud. She squinted at me, before reaching into her capacious purse to pull out a pair of glasses. When she put them on, she regarded me so intently that my heart pounded even harder.

  “This is Pete, Mama.” I waited for him to say more, but the bastard clammed up, his eyes gleaming as he glanced at me. It was then that I got it.

  He’s leaving me to sink or swim. He’s gonna be no help whatsoever. The fucker.

  She lifted her penciled brows. “And who is Pete when he’s at home?”

  “I’m Damon’s next-door neighbor, ma’am,” I said politely.

  His mama slowly raised her head to look at her son. “Mm-hmm.” It was easy to see who Damon got his attitude from. This was no sweet little old lady. Damon’s mama was a sharp operator.

  Yeah, tonight was going to be terrifying.

  His mama looked me up and down, and my heartbeat went into overdrive. One glance at the people assembled told me there was some money in this room: their clothing had that expensive air about it. In my chinos, shirt and old jacket, I was feeling distinctly under dressed.

  She speared me with an intense stare. “Damon’s neighbor? Then you two aren’t dating?”

  I jerked my head up to look at Damon, silently pleading for some guidance here. The fucker didn’t even look in my direction. He called out a name and left me standing there while he walked around the table to hug some woman in an elegant dress.

  I was on my own, apparently.

  “No, ma’am. We’re not dating.” Never mind what Damon had said. Damon was elsewhere.

  Up went those penciled eyebrows again. “You’re not dating, yet he brings you to my birthday party. I see.” She smirked. “So are you doing him or is he doing you?”

  Christ Almighty. Definitely not a sweet little old lady.
I nearly choked. There was no fucking way I was about to answer that question. From across the room Damon snuck a peek at me and I glared at him. When this is over…

  “So, Pete, what do you do?” she asked in a pleasant tone, like butter wouldn’t melt and she hadn’t just a few seconds ago asked me if her son and I were fucking.

  I recovered quickly, silently swearing massive vengeance on my bastard of a neighbor.

  “I’m a landscape gardener.”

  “Oh.” She smiled. “That must be interesting. Have you done any work on Damon’s yard?”

  I glanced across the room at him and caught his attention. He raised a wine glass to me, and I smirked. “Yes, ma’am. I pollinated his flowers for him,” I said in a loud voice.

  Damon nearly spat out the mouthful of wine he’d just taken. His mom, however, laughed out loud.

  I decided to play nice, even if Damon wasn’t. “You have a very large family, Mrs. Ramos,” I said politely.

  Her eyes lit up. “They’re wonderful. Every year I get taken out for dinner by my children and their families. I’ve celebrated my birthday in some of the finest restaurants in San Francisco, but this is my favorite, for obvious reasons.”

  I got that, if her son was the chef here. I gazed at the people nearest to her. “And is Mr. Ramos here?”

  Her smile faltered. “We lost my husband three years ago, to a heart attack.”

  “I keep telling her she should find herself a toy boy.” Damon strolled over, his important conversation apparently over. His gaze met mine. “She’s still young enough to find someone to pollinate her flowers.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  His mama batted him on the arm. “Hush, you. We’re not talking about that again. And I’m not done here. Go talk to someone. I want to talk to Pete.” Damon laughed but did as instructed. She patted the empty chair next to her. “Sit here.”

  Like I could refuse. I sat down between her and Damon’s brother, my heart quaking.

  “Tell me about yourself. Do you have family here in San Francisco?”

  “No, ma’am. My mom died of lung cancer about six years ago, and my dad went not long after her.”

  Her eyes widened. “No brothers or sisters?”

  “No, ma’am.” In spite of my nerves, I had to admit the atmosphere in the room was great. It must be nice to be part of a large family.

  An explosive snort next to me had me turning. Damon’s brother huffed. “Think yourself damn lucky. When this pack gets together, anything goes.” He extended a hand. “I’m Max, Damon’s brother.”

  I shook it. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

  Max grinned. “You should have seen Papa. Damon is the spitting image of him.”

  “Is he the oldest?”

  Max nodded. “I’m three years younger.”

  “And you’re the chef here.”

  He gave me a wry smile. “Some nights, yeah. Other nights I run my restaurant.”

  Fuck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was your place.”

  Max didn’t appear perturbed. “Why would you? We’ve only just met.” His gaze flashed in Damon’s direction. “It’s not like Damon told us he was bringing a guest either.”

  His mom cleared her throat. “Are we going to be eating any time soon? My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

  Max’s laugh was loud and raucous. “Yeah, Mama, real subtle.” He addressed the room’s occupants. “Okay, people. Take your places, please, so they can start bringing in the first course.” He got up and kissed his mom on the cheek.

  She chuckled as he walked over to the door. “He’s always the same. He’s left the manager in charge downstairs, but will he let him do his job?” Around them everyone hurried to take their places around the table, parents settling their children, the noise level gradually dying down.

  “You’ve survived then.” Next to me Damon let out a dry chuckle. “Looks like you didn’t need me after all.”

  No way was he off the hook yet.

  “Nice of you to warn me,” I hissed. “Seriously? Meeting your entire family?”

  Damon grinned. “You haven’t met them all yet. Wait until dinner’s over.”

  It was going to be a long night.

  * * * * * *

  I had the feeling the evening was drawing to a close. When I peered at my phone, I got a shock. It was getting on for eleven o’clock. Christ, these people can talk.

  I’d had my share of conversation for the night. Damon had introduced me to his siblings, and that had been quite the education. I guessed Damon’s parents had instilled in all their six kids an admirable work ethic. His sister Martella owned a very swanky hair salon in Sausalito. Lauren—she was the one elegantly dressed—had a dress shop near Fisherman’s Wharf. Leo owned a car dealership downtown. The baby of the family was Paula: at twenty-five, she’d just finished law school and was working in a successful law firm. They were all friendly and polite toward me, all of them engaging me in conversation at some point during the evening.

  Paula seemed the most at ease. We chatted about her studies and her ambitions to rise up within the law firm. When a natural lull in the conversation occurred, she leaned back on her chair and sought out Damon. “Well, I’m gonna ask, seeing as none of this lot have had the guts. What’s going on, bro? You never bring a date to these affairs. Why start now?” She gave him a sweet smile. “Is there something going on we should know about?” She didn’t seem to care that I was seated close by.

  Damon fired her what could only be described as a warning glance, but she met his stare with one of her own, clearly not about to budge. He chuckled. “Nope, nothing going on, sis.” His gaze latched onto mine for a moment, before he went back to his conversation with Max.

  Paula arched her eyebrows. “I see.” I was trying not to smirk and carried on talking to Leo, who was only a few years older than me. He was telling me all about his wife’s garden, and what a disaster it was, and did I have any tips for him? All around us was the buzz of voices.

  “So what’s with Pete?”

  My ears pricked up at the mention of my name. Max was talking quietly to Damon. I did my best not to look in their direction, but strained to listen.

  “What about him?” Damon’s voice was low and even.

  Max snorted. “Come on. You haven’t brought a date to meet the family in years. The last one was Michael, and it was that long ago, you were still in college. There’s probably only me and Martella who are old enough to remember him—”

  “Not going there.” Damon issued the words in a low growl that took me by surprise. Our eyes met once more, and I glanced away quickly, embarrassed to have been caught looking. Not so fast, however, that I didn’t miss the expression on Damon’s face. There had been something different about his eyes, maybe a touch less aggression than normal.

  Whatever it was, I got the impression it was something I was not supposed to see.

  * * * * * *

  The guests departed one by one, while I sat drinking coffee that Max provided, until there was only me, Damon, Max and their mom. Damon gestured to his watch to indicate it was time to leave.

  Mrs. Ramos gave me a warm hug, which surprised the hell out of me.

  “It was lovely to meet you, Pete. You make sure Damon brings you to the house for Thanksgiving, you hear?”

  I peeped at Damon’s face, which was turning very pink. I tried not to grin. “I’d like that.” Thanksgiving was usually a quiet time for me. The idea of being around Damon’s family again was a pleasant one.

  Max shook my hand firmly. “Good to meet ya, Pete. Make sure you come back and eat here some time, okay? I’ll sit you at the best table.” He gave Damon a sideways glance before smiling at me. “You can even bring Damon.”

  Shit. I was trying so hard not to laugh.

  After Damon and I had said our goodbyes, and we walked out of the restaurant’s main door, I turned to him and gave him a bright smile. “That went surprisingly well.”

  Damon narrowed hi
s gaze. “Too well.” I was yanked by the arm into the alley where my evening had begun.

  “What are you doing?”

  Damon propelled me through the alley until we reached the red dumpster, where he pushed me up against the wall, out of sight of the street. My heart hammered and my throat went dry.

  Damon stared at me, his eyes black. When the kiss came, it was as harsh and brutal as I’d hoped, his tongue going deep, his teeth tugging at my lips. When he reached down, popped open the button on my chinos and forced his hand into my briefs to grab my dick and squeeze it, I wanted to groan aloud with pleasure.

  Except he stopped, his breathing loud and uneven.

  “Just so we’re clear, we are not done yet,” he gritted out. “That will be after I get you to my place and in my bed.”

  I said the only words that made sense. “Yes, sir.”

  Damon’s breathing hitched and his hand tightened on my cock. “Then let’s find a taxi and get the fuck out of here.”

  He had no disagreement from me.

  * * * * * *

  The taxi ride from hell.

  All I wanted was to feel his hands on me but what I got was Damon keeping his distance, like there was a walrus sitting between us. I got it, sure: you never know if your cab driver might turn out to be a homophobic asshole, but still… I glanced in Damon’s direction. His expression was impassive, like he hadn’t just informed me we were going back to his place so he could fuck me. No emotion showing there whatsoever. Yeah, this was Damon indulging in a little mindfuckery. He was doing it on purpose.

  Not that the knowledge helped alleviate my aching cock.

  “Have I pissed you off in some way?” I asked. It was one reason for his silence, but I couldn’t think what I’d done to warrant such a…

  Wait a moment.

  I got it. I fucking got it.

  “You didn’t expect that to happen, did you?” I said with a triumphant air. “You thought you’d throw me in at the deep end and I’d drown in a pool of humiliation?” That I hadn’t was nothing to do with me—that was all down to Damon’s family. I snorted. “Your family knows you really well, don’t they? You didn’t anticipate that they’d support me. Your little plan backfired.”