Bad Boy Billionaires 2 : The Wall Street Shark(11)

"I'm okay now," Evan said. "I've learned my lesson. It's not going to happen again." He knew he should have felt more traumatized about being raped. He knew how serious an issue rape was, and how it was often ignored with men. But he just couldn't remember the act itself or anything else about that night because he'd been unconscious through all of it.

Jeffery hugged him and said, "I have to go. I'll call you. Maybe you should think about moving back home for a while. Kenny would love it, and you can have your own bedroom."




 

 

Evan stepped back and looked him in the eyes. "If I ever do move back home I don't want my own bedroom, Jeffery. You know what I want. We've talked about this before and I'm not going to change my mind." They'd been over this a million times since Evan had moved out. Evan wanted them to be a real couple with a traditional marriage. He didn't want an open relationship, he didn't want to do three-ways, and he didn't want a husband who screwed every good-looking young man he came in contact with. And though the open marriage gave Evan his own advantages, he was willing to give all that up forever just to be a family again. It was the one issue where he wouldn't back down.

As always, Jeffery changed the subject. "I'll call," he said. Then he kissed him goodbye, turned, and headed down the hall until he reached the staircase. As he grabbed the banister, he glanced back and sent him a smile.

Evan stood in the doorway and listened until he couldn't hear Jeffery's feet tapping on the stairs anymore. He wondered if he still had time for a short nap before he had to get ready for Kenny's reading. This would be the first time he would be out in public without having a drink and he started to feel a little shaky again. It would have been nice if Jeffery had been able to join him just this one time.

Chapter Four

It always made Evan smile when he tried to explain to people what he did for a living. He wrote historical romance novels, with covers that had women in long flowing gowns and large English manor homes in the background. He'd been doing this since he'd graduated from college, thrilled and grateful to find a niche in an industry known for its constant rejection.

When most people heard he was a published author the first question was always the same: "What's the name of your book?" This was usually followed by, "What's your book about?" These questions made Evan smile even more. Most people didn't read historical romance. They read mainstream fiction, the latest bestselling nonfiction, or whatever else they'd heard or read about in the mainstream media that was trending. Most did not understand there were career writers who focused in genre fiction and catered to a smaller, dedicated group of readers who tended to read up to ten or more novels a week. Evan had learned early in his career it was easier to just say he worked in publishing and leave it at that.

This wasn't totally off base. He did do freelance jobs whenever his agent found something interesting he thought Evan might like. The last freelance piece Evan had done was for a book of essays that examined a popular textbook on romance novels that would be used to teach on a university level. Although these publications were usually more academic than creative, Evan enjoyed the diversion once in a while. Not being creative had its advantages. 

He didn't feel creative that evening. He still felt shaky, slightly paranoid, and self-conscious about all the weight he'd lost at Havilland. All of his thirty-inch-waist slacks hung on his hips and he needed a belt to keep them from falling down. Even his jackets and sport coats felt loose in the shoulders. But he didn't want to disappoint his son, so he put on a pair of beige slacks, a white shirt, and a black sport jacket. On his way to the avenue to get a cab, he phoned Cadin and told him not to stop by on his way back to Brooklyn. Cadin offered to drive him uptown to Kenny's school, but he was stuck in traffic on Seventh Avenue South and Evan was already running late as it was.

When the cab pulled up to the school, Evan climbed out and slipped through side door where a group of kids were hanging out next to a brick wall. He kept his head down; he walked directly to the staircase and headed for room 304.

At the top of the stairs, he turned without looking and bumped into a tall kid carrying a gray backpack. He knocked the backpack out of the kid's hands and he stopped to help him pick it up. But when he bent down to help the kid and he said, "I'm so sorry. I'm in a hurry," their eyes met and the kid sent him a seductive glance. He stared at Evan's lips for a moment and said, "No problem at all, dude. You can bump into me anytime." Then he helped Evan stand up and looked him up and down with eyes that made Evan feel as if he'd just stepped out of the shower stark naked.