Say Yes Read online

  Say Yes

  J.R. GRAY

  Published by J.R. Gray

  © 2017. J.R. Gray

  Say Yes

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to real people or real places are used fictitiously. Any other names, businesses, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1546813019

  ISBN-10: 1546813012

  Cover Design: Rebel Graphics

  Formatting: Rebel Graphics

  Some people are lessons.

  Learn from them,

  grow from them,

  and move on from them,

  but never ever let them drag you down

  to their despicable level.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Yes Sir preview

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  “He’s dead.”

  James hadn’t even taken off his coat before she said it.

  “What?” The fabric slid down his arms and crumpled on the floor as he forgot to catch it. His knees went weak as he looked into his mother’s eyes. “This morning you said— they said—” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I would have skipped finals.”

  It wasn’t on purpose. She didn’t do it on purpose, he told himself over and over.

  She turned her back on him, beige stilettos clicking on the marble floor as she crossed the foyer to refill her drink at the bar. “We need to have a discussion.”

  James bent over to pick up his coat, realizing there wasn’t a servant waiting to whisk it away. He threw it over the back of a stiff chair she’d had reupholstered since he’d last been home.

  “What about?”

  She brought her martini glass to her mouth, sipping at the clear fluid with red lips, before she spoke. “With your father gone, we are going to have to make some changes.” She offered James one of the fake smiles she gave the ladies at all her charities.

  The house was dead, all the life had gone out of it, sucked into the void with his father. It was a vacuum, impossible to breathe in. Sorrow welled up in his throat. James pushed his fingers into his hair, realizing he hadn’t gotten it cut since the semester started, and it was starting to curl at the ends. Her shrewd gaze held him, and he knew what she was thinking. She hated it when he was anything but presentable to her standards.

  “Such as?” It took an iron control of his feelings to keep it together. It was a trap. He’d never planned on coming back. But then his father got sick. His eyes started to burn.

  “James, I have a lot of responsibilities. With your father passing—and all of my obligations—things are going to be tighter.” She pursed her lips.

  “Tighter how?” Getting any information out of her was harder than getting money out of her.

  “As you know, your tuition has been paid for in full.” Her thin lips set in such a way he could tell she wasn’t happy about that fact. “But I don’t think I’m going to be able to spare anything else.”

  His apartment flashed before his eyes, and the platinum card suddenly felt heavy in his wallet. “What do you expect me to do, Mother?”

  She shrugged one bony shoulder and turned away. “What does any college kid do at your age?” she paused. “Get a job?”

  It wasn’t her responsibility to support him. He was eighteen, after all. Still, it was a cold knife of betrayal to the chest.

  “Are you cutting me off?” He glanced around the massive house, loaded with priceless artwork he knew cost more than his condo. It was paid through the end of the year, which was three more weeks. He could hang out there for the holidays, but then what?

  “Honey.” She knit her brow and came over to rub a hand down his back. “I am a widow now. I have to be able to sustain myself.”

  Widow. It all hit him again. The ache in his chest spread out, engulfing him until he couldn’t breathe. He pulled away from her touch like it was poisonous. “Where did they take him? I want to see him.”

  “Mr. Dale came over and took the body. He’s in heaven with God now, James.”

  He recoiled, suddenly having a bad taste in his mouth. “You know he didn’t believe in God.”

  “Your father would be so disappointed in you speaking like that, James.” Her red lips curled up in a sneer.

  James stared at her for a moment. “He rarely went to church. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “He went every day toward the end. You weren’t here.” She lifted her chin, pointing her nose in the air. Snobbery like that couldn’t be taught.

  James found himself speechless. His father had only attended mass on holidays to appease her.

  “He didn’t believe in God.”

  “Don’t you dare speak ill of the dead.” The venom appeared. There was always a story or an angle. He’d been living it for as long as he could remember.

  All James could do was laugh. “Okay, Mother.” He turned and collected his coat. “Let me know when the funeral is.”

  It was twenty minutes until close and each minute felt like an hour. James had three papers to write and two tests to study for. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced around to check for his manager before sliding it out to check who the message was from. Another from the Black Flags. He groaned to himself and left it unread.

  “James, can you close up? I have to make my kid’s play all the way in fucking Brooklyn.” His manager’s voice came from the front of the store where he’d been resetting the window display.

  “Yeah, sure.” He’d been asked to close more and more often. It only added about half an hour to his shift, but he didn’t have far to go to the dorms, whereas his manager had to go all the way to the boroughs.

  “I’m leaving my spare keys next to the register.” He slipped past James to go out the back.

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks, man.” The door slammed, and he was alone.

  James took out his phone and read the message. As usual they were drinking at some place in lower Manhattan where the drinks would be fifteen dollars a pop. No thanks. He could drink a bottle in his dorm room for half the price of one drink out.

  A rush of cold air swirled around him, and James looked up to see a tall man walk inside. He stepped from behind a display to get a better view. James could tell with one look he was a serious client. He wore a four thousand dollar Armani suit, perfectly tailored to his muscular form. The man slid one hand into his pocket and flashed James a smile as he approached.

  “Good evening. Is there something I can help you with?” James asked, putting a similar smile on his own face.

  “I need a new tie.” He brushed his fingers over his tie. “I seem to have gotten something on this one while I was at lunch.” He moved his hand to reveal a dark red spot there.

  It looked more like blood than ketchup, but James didn’t say a word. “I don’t have the same tie, as it’s from last year’s collection, but I have a few I think would look great with your suit.” He held out his hand to lead the client toward the back of the store.

  He’d be here late, and for only the commission of a tie. Sleep was overrated.

  “Great, I have a dinner meeting tonight, and I would prefer not to wear a tie with blood on it.”

  James stopped and stared at the back of the guy’s head for a long moment before he remembered himself and followed. “How much time do you have? I can get the stain out.”

  He looked over his shoulder at James and raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of gray mixed with the dark hair at his temples. James stifled a groan as he looked him over. He was exactly James’ type.

  “My cleaner can’t even get blood out of silk.” He looked doubtful.

  James shrugged. “My grandma taught me a few tricks when I kept coming home bloody.”

  “Why would you be coming home bloody?” He took a step toward James.

  “Because I liked to fight.” James didn’t offer more of an explanation. He stepped past to collect a few ties.

  “Resourceful. I don’t have time, but as I love this tie, can I leave it with you?” He brought his hand up to loosen the knot at his neck.

  “Of course. I can have it cleaned and brought back to you.”

  The man held out his card. James took it and glanced at the name, Mr. Charles Walton. He pocketed the card and accepted the tie.

  “Have a look at these while I bag your tie, Mr. Walton.” He laid out the selection and walked to the register to set the tie there. It would be easy to clean and maybe it would gain him a client. Returning clients were the only way to make money in this business.

/>   “Can you come give me an opinion?” Charles asked from the back where he stood in front of the full length mirror.

  “Of course.” James hurried back, glancing at the clock. It was after nine.

  Charles held a tie in each hand, comparing them in the mirror. The knuckles on his left hand were badly bruised and lightly scabbed. James was insanely curious about how he’d come by the wound.

  “The teal brings out your eyes.” James reached out for it. “May I?”

  Charles handed over the tie, and James stepped behind him to tie it. He was tall, over six foot, but Charles was at least two inches taller than he was. Charles’ blues blazed in the mirror, watching his every move. When he finished, he stepped around Charles and dropped to a knee to check the length. Charles’ eyes flashed with something unreadable, and he brought a hand up. James stiffened, thinking Charles was going to grab him by the back of the head, but at the last minute Charles dropped his hand back to his side.

  “Looks good. What do you think?” He stepped out of the way so Charles could look at himself, but his gaze followed James.

  “What was your name?” He took a step toward James.

  “James.” He offered Charles one of his own cards.

  He pocketed it without a look. He took yet another step forward and fingered the bottom of James’ tie. “James, tell me, how many of your employees can afford to shop here?”

  “Not many, I suppose.” He knew why Charles asked. He currently wore a tie which came from this very store. One his father had bought him.

  “Then your father owns the place?” He didn’t release his grip.

  “No, I got the job because of my knowledge of suits, from years of wearing them.”

  Charles cocked his head to the side. James was never uneasy around men, but Charles set him on edge.

  “I see.” It was clear he still didn’t understand, and James wasn’t about to spill his life story.

  “You have good taste.” He released his hold on the tie and checked his watch. “I’m going to be late.”

  “I’m sorry. Let’s get this tie rung up for you so you can be on your way.”

  Charles shook his head. “They can wait.”

  James was at a loss for anything appropriate to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “What would you dress me in if you had your choice?” He slid his hand back into his pocket. James guessed it was a tell.

  He would undress Charles if he could, not dress him. “Are you in the market for new suits, Sir?”

  Charles sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes momentarily widened, easing the crow’s feet there. “I think I am.”

  James could tell he was trying to be intimidating, but after his father, no one was scary.

  “What are your measurements? Let me pull something for you.”

  Charles smiled, and James got the impression most people saw him as a wolf.

  “I’ve put on a bit of muscle. I don’t think I’m getting a good fit. I think you should measure me.” He started to unbutton his jacket.

  James dropped his gaze down the front of Charles. “Where are you feeling like you’re not getting a good fit, Sir?” He could have laughed if the tension in the room hadn’t ratcheted up drastically. He had a mind full of sarcastic comments, but bit them back, to not ruin the sale.

  The flash of emotion returned to Charles’ eyes. James wondered what he’d said.

  He smoothed a hand down over his flat stomach, drawing James’ attention there. “The waist.” He shrugged his jacket off and held it out.

  James took it and hung it up, before dropping to his knees in front of Charles again. “Let me check your inseam again, too. Just in case.” It was shameless to flirt with clients, but if it meant a sale, he wasn’t above it, and although he’d never been with a man, James found Charles very attractive. He’d always liked the salt and pepper look but from a safe distance so as to appear as straight as possible.

  Charles didn’t move as James pressed the measuring tape to the inside of his thigh. It was clear he wasn’t shy. James stayed where he was to wrap the tape around Charles’ waist. A low growl filled the space between them. He looked up and licked his lips. Charles was looking at him like he wanted to eat James. The images that filled his mind would get him fired in a heartbeat.

  “Let me pull some things for you and bring them to the dressing room.” He got to his feet and away from Charles as fast as he could.

  It was easier to breathe the further away he got. He pulled some of his favorite pieces from their stock, unable to get Charles out of his head. He would look good in anything, James was sure, but he thought a younger, skinny legged fit in the slacks would accentuate Charles’ form much better. When he returned, he found Charles on the phone. His voice had dropped to almost a growl.

  “When I tell you to wait, I mean wait,” he said and paused. “Do you think it’s any of your business where I am? I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t let them leave.”

  He lifted his eyes to James’ and pulled the phone from his ear. James could hear a feminine voice on the other end talking softly as Charles hung up. “My assistant.”

  James wasn’t sure he believed him, but it wasn’t his business. “If you need to go we could always set up an appointment.”

  Charles shook his head. “No.”

  “I was thinking—”

  Charles cut him off. “I want to see how it looks on.”

  James nodded. “Of course. Right this way.” He opened up a room and hung the suit inside before turning to step out of the large space.

  Charles blocked his path. He looked like a predator. He started to unbutton his own shirt as he stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

  Charles caught James by the tie and yanked him closer. James stood without a hint of fear. With his reputation, there weren’t many left who didn’t fear him.

  “Why don’t you stay?” It had to be voluntary. There was nothing if it wasn’t. Any man could get off on force. He wanted the control freely given. It was so much more erotic.

  “Need help putting your dick in your pants?” James’ lips curled up a hint.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of help with you on your knees.” He stared at the tie on James’ neck. Charles wanted to string him up with it. It had been a long time since he’d let loose with a man.

  “I think I’ll ruin my suit if I kneel in here.” He was witty. Another point in his favor.

  James was quite a bit younger than Charles was, but he made up for it in cocky. His dirty blond hair fell into his eyes, enough for Charles to grab a handful of. Even if he’d never preferred blonds, there was a first time for everything.

  “All the more reason not to be wearing it.”

  “It’s my job to get you out of your suit, not for you to get me out of mine.” His dark green eyes shone in the low light behind rectangular glasses. He had such a thing for glasses. Charles knew he was being toyed with. It was an unusual sensation for him as he usually did the toying.

  “It’s not going to be any work at all for you to get me out of my suit. I think yours will be the challenge.” He undid his belt, and James’ eyes went to his groin. He’d known James was into men. He had a sense for these things.

  “You’re not going to get me out of mine.” So cocky. It would be fun to break him of it.

  “We seem to be at an impasse.” Charles pulled his belt from his loops and halved it in his hand. He could already see the marks on James’ pale skin.

  “It appears so.” He surprised Charles and took the belt from his hands as he stepped past. “This belt looks so worn. Let me find you a stiffer model.” James flashed another smile, showing large canines and a mouth full of gleaming white teeth before he exited the room.

  Charles gripped himself. There was only one thing he loved more than submission: having to work for it.