I'm convinced of it. Yet, the fact that he was sitting alone in a gay bar suggested he might be open to the "experience." That was the hook that caught me. From then on, I made it a point to approach him every time I found him at the bar. I started by inviting him to try the cocktails he liked, but then he had to go and show an unexpected interest in my own tastes.
"What are you drinking, Xavier?" He asked one evening, his voice low and curious.
"Blue Arrow." I replied, swirling the vibrant cocktail.
"Is it good? I haven't tried that one."
"It's a bit of a strong cocktail." I warned, watching the way his eyes tracked the glass.
"Can I try it?"
"I won't buy you this one." I said firmly.
"No, just buy me the usual." He countered, a small, daring smirk playing on his lips. "Let me try it from your glass. Do you mind?"
"Go ahead." I managed to say, though the request caught me entirely off guard.
He didn't seem like the type to share a drink with a stranger, but watching him sip from my glass was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. What is it with this guy? I wondered. For the first time in my own establishment, I felt a flicker of genuine nerves over something so trivial.
Connor was curious, and although I'd made it a habit to buy him at least one drink every visit, we would usually just sit and engage in small talk before one of us departed—either because of the hour or because I'd found an easier conquest for the night. The fact that I started ordering potent drinks I knew he hadn't tried, just so he would ask for a taste of mine, made me furious with myself. It still does.
It's annoying that I'm putting in this much effort. But he has incredible resistance, and he's determined not to let me get close.
Eventually, Thursdays became the days I could count on finding him there. But that's irrelevant now. The last time I saw him, I felt as though I was hitting the absolute limit of my patience. To top it off, work stress and endless marriage discussions had soured my mood entirely.
Seeing him there that night was a relief, but I was tired as f*ck from dealing with the world's bullsh*t. I didn't have the energy to be smooth, and the strain was likely etched into my features clearly enough for him to see I'd had enough. I couldn't even manage a decent flirtatious remark.
"You look dejected."
Haaah. F*cking Connor. Remembering the way he said it—jokingly, yet with a serious glint in his eyes that suggested he cared without wanting to pry—makes me regret losing my cool after he left.
I wanted to touch him so badly. More than I ever have.
I wanted to drag him to the back of the store and finally do him the way I've been dreaming of for months. But since that night, the bastard hasn't returned to the f*cking bar. It's messing with my mind.
"Sir, we have arrived."
"Alright." I muttered, shaking off the memories.
The meeting for the arranged marriage turned out exactly as I'd hoped. As soon as I entered, the girl's father made a point of expressing how disrespectful my delay was. I used his outrage to my advantage immediately.
"It is unthinkable to be kept waiting for this long!" The man blustered, his face reddening. "If not for who your family is, I would not have stayed here for this!"
Most women who attended these meetings were either forced by their families or were already seeing someone else. However, there were always a few who genuinely wanted a partner hand-picked by their parents.
"Dad, it is all right, please." The daughter interjected softly. "The traffic must have been troublesome at this hour."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Oslic." She continued, offering a polite smile. "I am Natasha Feller, your date for today."
"Good afternoon, Miss Feller." I replied, my tone clipped. "We did take a wrong turn coming here. My apologies for the lateness."
"It's alright, at least you're here now. That's what matters."
"Right. But sadly, I am not here to find a partner as you are." I stated bluntly, watching her smile falter. "I wish I had arrived on time to say this, but I am not interested in marriage yet. I apologise."
"What?! You brat!" Her father roared, slamming a hand on the table. "Are you rejecting my daughter with such blunt lies? Your grandfather said this was agreed upon!"
"Then it is my grandfather who lied to you, not me." I told the old man, meeting his glare with cold indifference. "I have merely come here to say this out of respect for you and your daughter. I have a tight schedule, so I will be taking my leave. Once again, Miss Feller, my apologies. I hope you find the right partner soon."
"This man is insufferable!"
"Ah... Yes. I—I understand." Natasha said, placing a restraining hand on her father's arm. "Thank you for your honesty."
It was a relief that the woman had enough sense to stop her father. She seemed like a complete pushover, and likely was, given how I could hear her trying to placate the old man even after I'd walked out. But she wasn't my problem.
The only problem I have right now is that I don't enjoy sex anymore. Not unless I picture Connor while I'm f*cking someone else—and even then, it's a poor substitute. I've been struggling with this since before he vanished. At this point, after failing to enjoy a one-night stand because he wasn't the one in my bed, I haven't been able to get laid at all.
It's getting f*cking frustrating. I want to have sex, but I seem to be fixated on that bastard.
"What is the next meeting about? Do I have anything else on the schedule?" I asked Eva as the car pulled away, needing to know if I'd have a moment to breathe at the office.
"You only have one meeting scheduled at four in the afternoon with Xentia's manager." She replied without looking up from her tablet. "But this one is a virtual meeting, as he is currently overseas."
"Alright. Let's get back quickly. I want to rest before the Xentia meeting."
"I will tell the driver to take a shortcut."
The only thing Eva is good at is her cold efficiency. Otherwise, I would have fired her long ago, considering she reports back to the old geezer every time I breathe in a way he doesn't like.
*Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.*
Like right now.
Sigh. I can't even breathe. The fact that my phone is vibrating is proof enough that she's already talked.
"I'm listening." I snapped into the receiver.
"You idiot! You did it again!" My grandfather's voice crackled with rage.
"Yes."
"Xavier Oslic, do you have any idea who that man is? If you marry that girl—"
"Yes, I know." I interrupted, my voice flat. "But I don't care. I didn't like her. She's a pushover. At the very least, my future wife should have some semblance of character. Make a better attempt next time, geezer."
"Xavier Osli—!"
I cut him off with a sharp *beep*.
"You're quick on updating him, as usual." I remarked to Eva as I tucked my phone away.
"Thank you, Sir." She replied, her tone devoid of any real remorse.
The fact that she actually looked proud of her betrayal sickened me. However, I've grown used to it—better the devil you know. As I stepped out of the car, the sight of the company headquarters stood out strikingly against the skyline. My other reason for keeping my homosexuality a secret flashed through my mind: despite everything, I felt a fierce sense of pride in being part of this d*rn company.
Silent bows greeted me as I strode into the building, exactly as it should be. I had made it a strict rule for every employee to offer a silent greeting; I loathe the overlapping cacophony of vain hellos. It is nothing but mindless noise.
That was precisely why I had stopped that woman when she stepped out of the lift earlier. She had greeted me when she entered and again when she left. Loudly, too. I hadn't even wanted to look at her, my mood already soured by the tedious meeting I was heading toward. Yet, despite my irritation, I am glad I stopped her.
She really could be related to Connor. The thought nagged at me, a persistent itch in the back of my mind. But even if she is, what is my next move once I confirm it? I am not about to become a common stalker just to meet a guy I want to f*ck. He will probably appear again one of these days at the bar, acting as if it were perfectly natural to disappear and resurface at whim.
Should I just wait?
*Bing!*
The sharp chime of the lift echoed through the lobby as I weighed my options. The employees' lunch break would be ending shortly. We were timed perfectly to avoid the thundering masses, though it hardly mattered. Space was always made for me. A lift should never be crowded if I am on board—that was the unspoken rule the staff had established for themselves. It was a rule I thoroughly applauded.
Eva pressed the button for the 21st floor where my office is located. We were the only ones on board, but then, the doors slid open at the fifth floor—the very floor where I had stepped out earlier to confront the woman resembling Connor.
"Heh." I let out a sharp, dry chuckle at the sudden thought. What were the odds that she would be the one standing there when the doors slid back? How ironic would it be—
"I'm telling you, I didn't eat your pudding! Ask Patricia, she saw the culprit from really up close!"
"I know nothing about that."
"She ate it— Gasp?! Hey! Stop!"
The man I assumed was her coworker physically blocked her from stepping into the lift. Her momentum halted, finishing my thought for me. Look at that. That is irony for you, Miss.
"I'm telling you it wasn't me!" She glared at him over her shoulder before snapping her head forward, finally meeting my eye. Her coworker began to speak, his voice trembling as he greeted me.