A buzz.
A shiver.
A river of acid that raced down his spine.
Sid adjusted his posture, moving his body like delicate glass, searching for the alchemic point where he could justbe. Some days he never found it, but it was within reach today, and the fire ants having a party in his nerves went back to sleep.
He opened the second email.
Sid,
Seeing as you ignored my first email on this matter, I’m going to take your silence as agreement. With that in mind, I’ve consulted the trust, and we’ve gone ahead and started the process to recruit your assistant.
Years ago, you may remember that you argued the case for the trust to employ less of my “toff student mates” (your words, not mine) and grant opportunities to local people from disadvantaged backgrounds. I’m paraphrasing, obviously, but I think that’s what you meant that night in the Red Lion when you called me a posh cu*t with a silver spoon up my arse.
Either way, the trust took your advice. Your new assistant will be joining us from the rehabilitation scheme at Manchester Prison on April 13th.
Details attached,
Benjamin
Sid slow blinked, running his scratchy gaze over the email again, but nothing changed. Not that the start date was a surprise, but the rest of it? Sid tried to picture the stuffy board of trustees who controlled the finances of Wilburn Manor agreeing to hire newly released convicts and failed. Spectacularly.
Is he having a fucking laugh?
Sid clicked on the attachments. The first was a form that told Sid nothing he was interested in save the name of his new sidekick: Dante Pope.
The second was a photograph for the ID laminate all Wilburn employees were required to wear at all times, though Sid had long ago lost his.
Sid’s laptop was ancient enough that it took a minute for the image to coalesce as anything remotely human. He diverted his attention to his weed tin and rolled a joint fat enough to take the edge off his daily dose of pain.Sorry, Mum.
He sloped outside to smoke. While he’d been indoors, the manor house had wound down for the evening. Off-site employees had gone home, leaving behind the small collection of residential staff. Most lived in apartments in the old house. Only a couple of the bungalows near the gardens were occupied, and no one cared that Sid smoked weed. They knew why.Everyone does. Sid pulled harder on his smoke, willing unwanted images of his last relapse not to swamp his mind, but the taste of mud lingered on his tongue all the same.“We don’t know how long he was down. He was alone when he fell—”
“Fuck’s sake.” Sid snuffed out his smoke and stomped back inside. Brain fog was his least favourite symptom, and yet somehow it had never clouded the memories of the worst moments of his life.
Irritated, he returned to the couch in a daze and sat down. With his mind elsewhere, it took a moment to remember the photograph now lighting up his laptop. Then tousled chestnut hair came into focus. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and a face that was too young for the gleaming caramel eyes that were somehow flat and furious at the same time.
Eyes were Sid’s obsession. He leaned forward, lost in the man’s complex gaze, diving headfirst into it without stopping to make sense of what it meant. He stared at the long, silky eyelashes and the tiny lightning bolt tattoo that completed the perfect face. The man was... damn, he was beautiful, and a different heat crept over Sid, a pooling warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. A warmth he had no business feeling for...what was his name again?
Danny?
No.
Dante.
Dante Pope.
Your new assistant.
Right.Fuck.Sid sat back and forced himself to broaden his gaze. To take in the prison-issue sweatshirt and the dull grey wall behind Dante Pope andrememberwhy he’d lit up Sid’s inbox in the first place. But despite Sid’s frustration with Dante Pope’s very existence, his honey-brown eyes were so compelling Sid couldn’t look away. He stared and stared andstared,and the warmth in his blood began to manifest as something deeper.
Something he couldn’t ignore in case it was the last time it ever happened.
Sid closed his eyes, but Dante Pope’s entrancing face didn’t go anywhere. He wasright there, in Sid’s mind, with his arresting gaze and full lips.
Those lips.
Those eyes.