Learning Curve, Disciplinary Action #2 (Patreon)

This is unbeta'd/unedited. It still needs to be polished so ignore any plot holes if you see them. Now for the warnings. In order to prevent getting dinged by the bots, please see the attached form for trigger warnings as there are quite a few. Eta: Evander is a little fucking odd to say the least. He is what i imagine the Mulvaneys would have been without Thomas. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cgFXXNEMvXsnmWSpA2d4gd3ZpByYl1ZRXBMzYG4xkLY/edit?usp=sharingMatteo Cruz woke as the Earth violently shook beneath him, prying open heavy eyelids as the sour smell of beer and sweaty gym socks assaulted him. He groaned, arching his back until something sharp jabbed him between the ribs. His head was pounding like a bass drum. How much did he drink last night? He’d stopped counting after his third beer and his fifth shot.Living in a frat house was wild.“Get up, bro,” someone snapped, hovering above him. “What’s this kid’s problem?”Was he the kid in question? He blinked, wincing as he sat up. Vision swimming, he rubbed his face with the heel of his hand. “What’s up?”The Deetz frat house had a…lived in feel to it. The couch sagged, the recliners were cracked at the seams, and the ‘coffee table’ was nothing but three milk crates zip-tied together. Maybe that’s why Micah had let him couch surf for so long. It’s not like he could break anything…except maybe their massive television mounted on the wall opposite him.He threw up his arm like a vampire as someone whipped open the heavy blackout curtains, grimacing as sunlight stabbed through his eyelids. What the fuck? When the sparks finally cleared, he realized two people stood before him.The one who’d kicked the couch, the Delta Tau Zeta president. Brett? Brant? Brendon? Tyler? They all looked the same to him, Vineyard Vines-wearing douchebags doused in too much cheap cologne and wearing shorts that showed a little too much thigh. Behind him stood Micah, mirroring the president’s stance, though shifting uncomfortably and giving a pinched look to Matteo like he’d done something.“What’s up? What’s up is you’ve been living on our couch like some kind of leech for weeks, asshole. You’re not even a student here. You need to go.”Matteo blinked at the blunt statement, his heartbeat throbbing in his temples. He looked at Micah but he dropped his gaze to the floor. Fucking figured. Micah St. Clair was a lot of things–rich, entitled, audacious–but kind wasn’t one of them. He’d only let Matteo stay there because he owed him. Well, owed his grandfather. Micah had happily used Roger Koch’s connections to get him into this school after the scandal broke. Something Roger would have done for Matteo too…if not for the photos that surfaced. First online. Then in the papers. Matteo bet Cal had laughed himself sick over Matteo’s downfall. Matteo would have.“Can I talk to you alone?” he asked Micah.Micah’s nostrils flared, tone sharp. “What’s to talk about? I think I’ve more than paid you back. Like, I get that your dad and grandfather bailed on you after the homo shit, but that’s not my problem.”Matteo flinched at the word but said nothing. Micah wasn’t done. “Look, you know I don’t care where you stick your dick or vice versa but you can’t live on couches forever.”“What am I supposed to do? I have a criminal record. There’s no way anyone is gonna hire me to do anything. I have no place to go,” Matteo said.Micah huffed, face twisting cruelly. “Kind of ironic, no?”Matteo frowned. “Huh?”“This is like karma for the way you treated Cal. You were a total dick to him.”“So were you!” Matteo shot back. “You spit on him and blamed me. You got him booted off the lacrosse team. Hell, you’re the one who told me I should go beat his ass.”Micah shrugged. “You killed his dog, dude.”“What the fuck?” the frat president said. “That’s so fucked up. Like people are one thing, but animals? That’s some psycho killer shit.”“Calm down, Abercrombie," Matteo muttered. “His dog is alive...and thriving.” Better than Matteo, anyway. They still stared. He blurted, “And, not for nothing, but the dog was chasing me. It’s not my fault she didn’t look both ways before crossing the street.”God, his head was pounding.Out of all the things he’d done–and there were a lot–the dog was his biggest regret. He liked animals. They were way more loyal than people. His stomach churned as he thought of Baby. Was she okay? Was someone remembering to feed her? Cleaning her litter box? Had his father dumped her at a shelter? She was so old there was no way anyone would have adopted her. His heart twisted, the pain knife-sharp. He missed her raspy purr. The way she’d curl up on his chest when he was upset. Should he have taken her with him?How would you do that, stupid?The guy looming over him scoffed, “I want you out in an hour.”“An hour?” Matteo gasped. “You can’t just let me stay one last night while I try to find somewhere else to go?”“An hour,” he said again, already turning.Micah was still there, hovering, looking like he didn’t know if he was going to flee or say whatever it was still on his mind.“What?” Matteo finally snapped. “Stop standing there looking constipated and just spit it out.”“Maybe you should call Bastian.”“What?” Matteo mumbled. “The scholarship kid?”Micah shrugged. “He used to fuck old ladies for money, right? Good money. Maybe he could hook you up like he did Cal?”Matteo blinked. “Didn’t he get a full ride to Duke?” he asked, before truly processing the rest of what he’d said. “You want me to turn tricks for money?”“Why are you acting so high and mighty? Your options are limited, man. Like you said, you’re a criminal and you have zero marketable skills.”Matteo’s face flushed. Had it really come to that? From trust fund baby to sugar baby in less than a month? “I don’t want to fuck hundreds of people for money,” he said almost to himself. “Especially old ladies.”“Suit yourself,” Micah said. “But you’re too much of an asshole to have any friends but me. Where are you gonna go?”He had no fucking idea.“Cal got a rich boyfriend out of it. Maybe you can too? Oh, hey, auction off your virginity or something.”“I’m not a virgin, asshole.”“You’ve bottomed before?” Micah asked, judgment dripping.“Well, no. But that doesn’t make me a virgin.”“It might make you one in the eyes of those creep sites where they just want to be the first one to dick you down.”The idea of letting some random stranger inside his body had his breaths coming faster. Could he fuck a stranger? Some rich, old dude who just wanted him as a novelty? He wasn’t good at faking it. He shuddered at the thought.“A one night stand, you mean?”“Hopefully not,” Micah said. “Maybe if you rock his world, he’ll keep you.”Matteo doubted sex with him would rock anyone’s world. He’d fucked a couple of girls while at Roosevelt Prep and traded hand jobs with Cal after prom. But other than that, his experience was limited…and selfish. He’d had to close his eyes just to keep it up with those girls. They just didn’t do it for him.“I don’t know if I can be some decrepit guy’s sugar baby,” Matteo said.Micah shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you can’t stay here. Don’t forget your bag. It’s still in my room.”“Yeah, I hear you,” Matteo muttered. “Can I just have a minute to wake up? Last night was rough.”Micah huffed. “You just can’t handle your liquor. You would have been a terrible college student. For multiple reasons.”Matteo didn’t justify it with an answer. He didn't need to. Micah was already disappearing upstairs, Matteo long forgotten.He knew Micah wasn’t wrong. From a very young age, it was clear the things that mattered to his father would never matter to Matteo. His family had hoped he’d be as smart–as successful–as his parents. Those hopes were dashed early. Before he was even out of first grade.That’s when they’d diagnosed him with dyscalculia.While plenty of people overcame their brain’s jumbling numbers, Matteo had never figured out how. A slew of tutors and specialists had tried, but every failure meant his father just replaced them. It wasn’t long before Matteo realized he was actually quite stupid with most subjects…except English.By then, his mother was already gone, tucked away overseas where her bleeding heart couldn’t drain Cruz resources anymore.His mother…Amalia Hart.Known for her only literary work. A book of poetry that had garnered her the German Book Prize. That’s how she’d come to the US in the first place. A book tour for the English translation. Her rising star and talent had dazzled his father. There was nothing he loved more than crushing someone’s spirit. Two years into their marriage she’d given up writing altogether.How long had it been since Matteo had even been in the same room with her? Twelve years? If he called her, would she even answer? She lived back in Germany now. A fairy-tale place called Mittenwald. She’d taken him there once as a little boy, but never again. He didn’t even have her number. He couldn’t exactly ask his father. Besides, contacting his mother would only cause trouble for her. Adrian Cruz had spent years terrorizing her into submission.Matteo pushed thoughts of his mother away. Nobody was coming to save him. At least Cal had his intelligence to fall back on. Matteo was a fucking moron. The only thing he’d ever excelled at was writing, and his father had made certain no son of his would be some starving artist.He was so deep in his pity party that he didn’t even register the television turning on until one of the guys–a beefy jock with a buzz cut–crashed on the opposite side of the couch. Another–wearing a backwards ballcap–perched on the arm of a recliner.“Dude, put on ESPN,” ballcap demanded.“Fuck that shit,” buzz cut said. “Don’t you ever get tired of watching a bunch of sweaty dudes slap each other’s asses? I need to check the Nasdaq.”“Why? You gonna invest that hundred dollars in your sock drawer?” ballcap shot back with a cackle.Matteo tuned them out, pulling his phone from his pocket. He wasn’t sure if his father had just forgotten to tell his business manager to cut it off or if he was using it to keep track of him. Either way, it was all he had left of any value.“Can’t believe that dude’s a billionaire at twenty-four. Like…must be nice. But I guess when your best friend is someone like Julian Fairchild you have an easier time finding investors,” ballcap said.The other grunted. “I heard he was granted the patent while still in high school. Like tenth grade. In high school, I was so faded, I once forgot my own address. This dude’s printing prosthetics for babies and shit.”“Maybe when you have a name like a supervillain, you have to be extra nice,” ballcap said. “What kind of name is Evander Frost anyway?”“A made up one.”Matteo’s head snapped up, heart pounding as he locked on the screen.Everyone knew Julian Fairchild. Rich kid with a heart of gold just like his actress mom, who’d married a philanthropist and then adopted like five kids. Big on the charity scene. But it wasn’t Julian who had Matteo’s undivided attention.It was Evander.Evander Frost.The housekeeper’s son.The nerd Matteo used to throw spitballs at when he lingered after school to help his mom clean. The awkward, bookish boy with crooked teeth and Coke-bottle glasses who never seemed to fit anywhere.And now…He was hot.Jaw-cut-from-marble hot. Broad-shouldered and confident, his expensive suit showing off all the ways puberty and power had transformed him. And apparently he was rich. Like, stupid rich. His picture-perfect smile was plastered across the TV as if it had every right to be there.“Meet Evander Frost,” the anchor said. “The wunderkind CEO behind OrthoTech Innovations, which just went public last quarter. Shares opened at a stunning thirty-two dollars and have already doubled, leaving early investors—”“Dude,” the ballcap frat boy interrupted. “I’m telling you, if I had that kid’s brain, I’d already own an island.”“Shut up,” buzz cut said. “You’d lose it in a poker game.”Matteo’s ears buzzed. He leaned in, pulse thudding in his throat. This couldn’t be the same kid. Evander Frost, billionaire. He wanted to laugh. The laugh stuck in his chest. He’d once made that kid cry just for fun.On the screen, Evander spoke, voice deeper, steadier–richer–than Matteo remembered. “Our mission has always been accessibility. When my best friend lost his hand and couldn’t afford the prosthetics on the market, I 3D printed him one in the school’s lab. It wasn’t perfect–” He gave a self-depricating laugh that had Matteo rolling his eyes. “–but it worked. That’s when I realized technology could be more than just innovation. It could be freedom. Our company isn’t about profit margins, it’s about dignity.”Matteo’s stomach twisted. He remembered mocking Evander once for carrying around a notebook full of equations, calling him ‘calculator boy.’ It wasn’t the most creative insult, but he’d been eight. He hadn’t thought twice about it. But hearing him now, commanding the world’s attention, it burned.Matteo’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to think about Evander Frost. Not then. Not now. Not ever.But the screen kept playing.“We’re scaling production,” Evander said. “Pediatric limbs are our priority, but we’re developing adaptive tech for veterans and accident victims. Our goal is global distribution by next year. Accessibility isn’t charity, it’s necessity. And necessity should never be reserved for the wealthy.”Matteo’s throat felt tight. “Who is that guy?” Matteo asked, feigning ignorance.The two frat boys looked at him like they’d forgotten he existed. “Which one?”“The one who’s not Julian Fairchild,” Matteo said faintly.“Oh. His name’s Evander Frost. He just got hella rich overnight.”Buzz cut whistled. “Yeah, now he’s even richer than Fairchild.”“He must be swimming in pussy,” the other added.“Right?”Matteo’s lip curled. Evander, swimming in girls? Hardly. He might be hot enough now, but Matteo knew better. Evander had never been into girls. It was the one thing they’d had in common. Back then, he’d made it painfully clear he’d only ever love one person.And that person was Matteo.But that was before.His gaze slid to the screen, stomach lurching as he noted just how close Evander and Julian Fairchild stood, tuxedos brushing, easy smiles shared. It made no sense. If Evander had a type, Julian wasn’t it. He looked nothing like Matteo. But people changed. Especially after what Matteo had done.He chewed his lip, thumb flying over his phone. OrthoTech Innovations. Manhattan headquarters. No home address. Figures. The internet could tell him Evander was a 6’2” Scorpio with a Virgo rising, that he was named after some character in his mother’s favorite book, Amalia Hart’s favorite book. But not where he actually lived.Fuck.Matteo bolted upstairs, two at a time, barging into Micah’s room.“Jesus, ever heard of knocking?” Micah yelped. “What if I’d been jerking off?”“Relax,” Matteo snapped. “You’re the one who told me to come get my bag.”Micah pointed lazily toward the desk. “There.”“Thanks, but that’s not why I’m here. I need a favor.”Micah barked a laugh. “Another favor? Couch-surfing for three weeks wasn’t enough?”Matteo bit back his temper. “My family’s the only reason you aren’t at community college, St. Clair. You owe me.” His voice softened. “Help me with this and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”Micah narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like bullshit. But go on.”“Your dad still has that PI on retainer, right?”“Probably. Why?”“I need him to dig up everything on Evander Frost. Where he lives, who he’s dating, if he’s with Julian Fairchild, everything.”Micah’s eyebrows shot up. “A relationship? With Julian Fairchild? Like, son of Julia Fairchild? The Oscar winner?” He shook his head. “What the fuck are you up to?”Matteo straddled the back of the desk chair. “What you suggested. I’m gonna do what Cal did.”Micah’s jaw dropped. “Whore yourself out to a billionaire?” He gave Matteo a long once-over. “I mean…you could pull it off. Pretty enough. Some closeted daddy might keep you.”Matteo rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not gonna be an escort. I’m gonna get him to marry me.”Micah started choking, laughing and coughing all at once. “What?” he wheezed.“What? You don’t get it. We were childhood friends,” Matteo lied smoothly. “He had the biggest crush on me.” He left out the part where he’d treated him like garbage. “Our moms were best friends. Practically family.”That part was true, at least. “If you were such besties, why don’t you know where he lives?”Matteo’s chest tightened. “When my dad exiled my mom back to Germany, he fired their family and kicked them off the property. I haven’t seen him since.” He let his expression fall, just enough. “I…I miss him.”Micah groaned. “You better get better at acting before you ‘accidentally’ bump into him.”“I will,” Matteo muttered. He had to. Evander had always been kind, even when Matteo hadn’t deserved it. Always tinkering, always building, always trying to show Matteo something cool. Always smiling. And always–always–looking at Matteo like he hung the moon.He’d blown him off every time.Not anymore.“Can you just call your dad?” Matteo pressed. “Have him get me what I need. Once I’m in front of Evander, the rest will fall into place.”Micah stared. “Your level of delusion should be studied by science.”Matteo ignored him. He wasn’t delusional. He was pretty. That was worth something. Thick brows, hazel eyes, hair models would kill for, lips people stared at. His father had crushed his mother’s career, but he’d crushed Matteo’s too, shredding modeling contracts, sneering that Matteo was too pretty, too girly. A disappointment. A waste.He’d show him.He’d marry Evander Frost. He’d make sure the world saw it. And Adrian Cruz would choke on it.“Oh, and one more thing,” Matteo said, ignoring Micah’s groan. “I need to borrow some clothes.”Chapter 2Evander“So, no to Fox News, yes to CNN?”“The answer is always no to Fox News,” Evander said, his eyes crossing slightly at the complicated pattern on his PR manager’s thousand-dollar suit. Twenty-eight-year-old Harvard graduate, Baxter Crowe, was excellent at his job, but he was…eccentric.He wore expensive plaid suits, brightly colored shirts, comically large bow ties, and thick brown-framed glasses. He also had deep brown eyes and a perfectly rounded halo of tight curls. None of it should have worked together, but where anyone else would have looked like they’d gotten dressed in the dark, Baxter looked fashion-forward. The cameras loved him.He was the antithesis of the company’s CFO, Julian. The cameras loved him, too, probably because one had been trained on him since he was in diapers. With his blond hair, blue eyes, couture wardrobe, and golden-retriever baby face, the two couldn’t have looked more different. Anywhere they went, heads turned. Which was perfect for Evander, who preferred to stay out of the spotlight as much as they’d allow.Most of the time, the two mixed about as well as oil and water. The only time they seemed to agree on anything was when it came to harassing Evander. He often threatened to fire them both. Julian liked to tell Baxter that Evander had only hired him so there was someone else in the office with a name stranger than his own. Baxter had quickly reminded him that Julian Fairchild was hardly John Smith.He dragged his attention back to the other man.“Also, you need to work on your tone. You don’t want to sound too rehearsed, but you also don’t want to sound too flat. And you have to stop sounding so…condescending,” Baxter said, just as the office door opened and Julian let himself in.Baxter spared him a glance, rolling his eyes at the CFO’s fitted gray pants and black cashmere sweater, then turned his attention back to Evander. “Oh, and burn that black turtleneck. Who even approved that? No–where did you even get that? I threw out all your old clothes. Did you…hide some from me?”Evander opened his mouth, but Baxter cut him off with a sharp look. “It was horrific. You looked like you were being swallowed by a boa constrictor…or some kind of carnivorous plant.”Julian tipped his head back and laughed, making them both cringe. He had a laugh that would give Vincent Price nightmares. It was disconcerting to hear it exit that startlingly attractive face…like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.Julian sprawled into the chair opposite Evander’s desk. “I told you not to wear that. Just when I think you’ve finally absorbed all my lessons, you boomerang right back into engineer mode. The black turtleneck died with Steve Jobs. Let’s not resurrect it.”Evander gave them both a disgruntled look. “If you don’t want me dressing myself, then make sure my outfits arrive the day before an appearance, not an hour after I’m due on camera. What kind of idiot doesn’t understand Manhattan traffic?”Baxter waved his hand. “It was an issue with the stylist, not the courier. She’s been fired. She didn’t understand my vision anyway. That’s why I’m handling your wardrobe myself from now on.”Evander stared pointedly at Baxter’s outfit.The man scoffed. “I’m planning your wardrobe, not mine. You could never pull off a look as sophisticated as this.”He wasn’t wrong. Almost everything Evander owned was black or white so he didn’t have to think too hard about what matched. He had more important things to do. He found all of this both trivial and exhausting. He had a schedule and he liked adhering to it, but these two were constantly getting in the way of his regimented life.Still, he tsked. “I’m not paying you more than I already do. You assigned yourself this task. You’re already getting paid three times what any other PR manager would.”Baxter gave him a benevolent smile. “That’s because I’m five times better than any other PR manager. Hotter, too.”Julian gave him an appreciative once-over. “He’s got you there.”Baxter curtsied. “Nobody will ever pay me what I’m truly worth.” He didn’t wait for them to deny it, just turned back to Evander with a disappointed look. “We have to work on your face.”Evander blinked rapidly, then looked accusingly at Julian. “My…face? I thought we already did that six years ago with the braces and the lasik and the forcing me to meet up with that militant drill sergeant you call a personal trainer.”“Ingrid is one of the best personal trainers in the state,” Julian chided before Baxter could chime in.Evander gave him a flat stare. “When I told her I couldn’t run on the treadmill, she called me a weakling and said men in her country could crush my head with their thighs.”“She doesn’t like excuses,” Baxter said primly, shrugging a shoulder.“She apparently also doesn’t like broken bones or doctor’s notes,” Evander countered. “I had a fractured foot.”Baxter rolled his eyes. “Beside the point. And that’s not what I meant. We have to work on your resting bitch face. And your resting judgy face. And just…your whole face honestly.”Evander’s brows knitted together, swinging his head to Julian once more. “What the hell does that mean?”Julian snickered. “It means your face has subtitles.”Evander rolled his eyes. “If you’d stop making me do the talk show circuit like I’m a stand-up comedian and not a biomedical engineer, I wouldn’t have to try to hide my disdain for these idiots.”The last time he’d done an interview on a late-night talk show, the host had called prosthetics robot arms and asked if he made things like Iron Man. He had zero tolerance for morons. What he did wasn’t a joke. Sure, some of his prosthetics had superhero themes, princess themes, even the occasional unicorn. But that didn’t make it something to turn into a punchline.He didn’t understand why any of this PR nonsense was even necessary. He just wanted to stay in the lab and work on the next generation of products. Why did he need to pretend he…liked people? He didn’t want to be approachable. Being approachable made people think they could approach him.“Not everyone is a genius, dude,” Baxter said, then placed a hand on his own chest. “I am, but the average person–like our poor, sweet Julian over there–well, their IQ barely makes triple digits.”“Hey!” Julian said, face dropping comically. “I’ll have you know my IQ is 131, thank you very much.”“That’s cute,” Baxter said, before returning his full attention to Evander. “As I was saying, stop going completely blank when someone is talking to you. It’s giving serial killer. Try smiling for a change.”When they continued to stare at him, Evander tugged up the corners of his mouth into what he hoped was a smile. Both of them recoiled.“Oh, yeah, no. Don’t smile either. You look deranged,” Julian said.Evander glowered at them. “So don’t smile. Don’t frown. Don’t look at people like they’re stupid–even when they clearly are–but also don’t make my expression blank?”“Yes,” the two said at the same time.Evander huffed out a breath through his nose. “Maybe one of you should do this. Isn’t that what I’m paying you for?” he asked Baxter.Baxter rolled his eyes. “No, you’re paying me to make sure you look like the intelligent, soft-hearted, rich protagonist every woman and gay man in the city fantasizes about marrying.”“How does that in any way help my business?” Evander asked, exasperated. “We have all the money we need. Why do I have to keep trying to be…personable? I’m barely a person. Let Julian do it. He’s the CFO. Everyone loves him.”Baxter spared Julian a glance. “No, everyone loves his mother. They just see him as an extension of her.”Julian made an indignant sound. “What did I ever do to you?”“Nothing, baby. I’m just being honest. You’re not used to it because you grew up privileged and surrounded by yes men.”Julian crossed his arms over his chest. “You hardly grew up in poverty, asshole. You were raised on the Upper East Side. The only one who can cry poverty is Evander—and even he spent most of his formative years in a mansion. It just wasn’t his.”“You’re both giving me a headache. Can we please go to lunch now? I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I can feel my blood sugar plummeting as we speak.”“Fine, but this is going to be a working lunch,” Baxter said, snatching his bag and sliding his tablet and laptop inside before sauntering out like he was dismissing them.Evander looked at Julian. “He gets that he works for me, right? Not the other way around?”“I’m…honestly not sure,” Julian said, staring after the man.They followed him out of the office. Unlike Baxter, he and Julian brought nothing but their phones and wallets. As they passed Octavia’s desk, Evander rapped his knuckles softly on the surface, snagging her attention from the phone call she was on.“One moment, please,” she chirped in her customer service voice.She hit the hold button, then gave Evander an impatient look. “Yeah?” she snapped.How did he end up hiring such impertinent people? She made big eyes at him, her false lashes reminding him of some kind of exotic moth when she blinked.“We’re going to lunch. Want us to bring you something back?”She immediately brightened, plopping her chin onto her palm. “Are you going to The Deli?”Evander looked at Julian, who shrugged then nodded. “Yeah, sure.”“My usual,” she said. “Please?” she added, almost like an afterthought.Evander nodded. “We’ll be back before the call with the board.”They were almost to the ornate gold elevator doors when she called, “Don’t forget my Diet Coke or I’ll quit on the spot.”Evander huffed but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her, shaking his head.When they made it to the lobby, Baxter arched a brow. “It took you long enough. Where are we going?”“The Deli,” Julian supplied when Evander didn’t.Baxter’s mouth flattened and Evander heard him mutter, “Of course. You people love a bougie sandwich.”Julian gasped, clutching his metaphorical pearls. “You people? Wow.”Evander opened his mouth to reply, when his attention snagged on movement in his periphery, a figure peeking around the entryway, watching through the glass.He casually shifted to get a better look. The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he realized those eyes were trained on them.Well, him. The stranger continued to stare as Evander pretended to listen to the two of them drone on about the board meeting at three. There was something odd about the way the person just…watched him. He’d almost be concerned for his safety if his stalker wasn’t being so obvious.When they started walking, the figure slipped from view. Evander’s brows knitted, the whole thing feeling like a one-sided game of hide-and-seek. Curiosity ate at him as they navigated the revolving glass doors, somehow managing not to turn it into a Three Stooges episode.When they spilled out onto the busy sidewalk, Evander took a deep breath, tilting his head up at the scent of rain on the wind.The sky overhead was dark, ominous. The rain would start before the end of the day, maybe even before lunch. None of them had brought an umbrella. But all that was forgotten when his stalker darted from hiding and deliberately planted himself in Evander’s path, ‘accidentally’ colliding with him hard enough to make them both grunt.Evander reached for him on instinct, gripping his shoulders to keep him upright.“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry,” the stranger lied.They were staring down, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t a stranger at all. His heart began to gallop. He’d know that voice anywhere. Smooth. Smug. Dripping with privilege.Of course. Matteo Cruz.When Matteo tipped his head back, his eyes went wide. “Evander?!”He had to fight not to laugh in his face. He’d forgotten how conniving he was. “Matteo?” he asked, hoping he was doing a better acting job now than he ever had on late-night talk shows.Julian and Baxter both frowned, confusion plain.“Do you two know each other?” Baxter asked.Matteo’s pretty mouth split into a smile that punched straight through Evander’s carefully crafted armor. “We grew up together.”Julian’s eyes went wide, his gaze snapping to Evander’s. Evander gave the smallest shake of his head. He didn’t want Matteo thinking he’d ever had any sort of impact on his life–even if he had. He’d told Julian about him before, but never by name. Only as the destructive force that had shadowed his youth.“You guys go on,” he said, pretending distraction as he stared at the boy who had once embodied every fantasy he’d ever had. “I’ll catch up. Don’t forget Octavia’s Diet Coke or she says she'll quit.”“Like anyone else would hire her rude ass,” Baxter muttered as they walked away.“Fancy seeing you here,” Evander murmured, letting himself drink him in.Was he wearing lip gloss? Fuck. He was still so beautiful. Beautiful. Cunning. Manipulative. Spoiled. Stuck up.“Right? What a coincidence,” Matteo said, still clinging to Evander’s forearms. “How are you?”“I’m doing well. You?” Evander asked, deliberately formal.Matteo shrugged. “Just doing the college thing, trying to avoid going home. You know how it is.” His tone carried the slightest edge of mania.Evander studied his face, unblemished skin, porcelain veneers, eyelashes so long they looked as fake as Octavia’s. When Matteo cleared his throat, that tiny smirk tugging at his mouth, Evander realized he’d been caught staring. He was expected to say something.He forced himself to release Matteo. Matteo didn’t do the same.“So…your family’s doing well?” Evander asked.Matteo flinched like he’d been pinched, but recovered quickly. “You know my father. He always lands on his feet.”“Mm. That does seem to run in your family,” Evander said, eyes dropping pointedly to Matteo’s hands still gripping him. “Are you going to keep those, or can I have them back?”Matteo released him like he’d been burned. “Oh my God. Sorry, I’m just…so surprised to see you.”And the Academy Award goes to…“Yes. Same. This is all quite…surprising,” Evander said, letting his gaze sweep appreciatively over Matteo’s form.Matteo thought Evander was checking him out. And he was. But not in the way Matteo expected. He was cataloging. The sweater was a size too big, the pants an inch too long. The shoes, name brand, yes, but scuffed at the toes. His hair was at least a month overdue for a cut, and the shadows under those pretty blue-green hazel eyes screamed sleepless nights.Borrowed clothes. Or secondhand. Either way, Matteo hadn’t gone crawling back to his father. Or maybe Adrian Cruz had finally drawn a line? The one thing he wouldn’t tolerate was the world knowing he had a gay son. Whatever the reason, Evander knew exactly why Matteo was there. And fuck, if that knowledge didn’t feel…satisfying. Matteo had come to him first. How fun. “How’s your mom?” Matteo asked, voice bright with mock cheer.That caught him off guard. “Back in Germany. With your mom,” Evander said, frowning.“Oh. Right.” Matteo’s face faltered before snapping back into a smile, too quick, too polished. “You’ve gotten so…tall,” he added, dripping false awe.Evander smirked. “Last time you saw me I’d just turned thirteen, so…”“Oh, right. I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since I was nine,” Matteo said, almost breathless.You haven’t seen me…but I’ve seen you.“Is it that weird?” Evander asked, arching a brow. “You hated me.”Color rose in Matteo’s cheeks, his mask slipping. “I didn’t…hate you. I was just a brat.”Evander chuckled. “Yeah. You definitely were.” He reached out, knuckling gently under Matteo’s chin until their eyes met. “But are you still?”Matteo’s pupils blew wide at his words. Interesting. That was new. The boy’s cheeks flushed, his tongue darting across his bottom lip. “I guess, given the right circumstances… and the right…man?”Evander’s phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the spell. Baxter.He answered curtly. “Yeah, I’m coming. Sorry. Just order for me...you know what I like.” He dropped his voice as he cut the call, giving Matteo a dark, deliberate look that left him visibly flustered.Was it really this easy? Matteo Cruz, his deeply-embedded childhood crush, standing there and practically offering himself up. While Matteo hadn’t seen Evander since he was thirteen. Evander couldn’t say the same. He’d kept tabs on Matteo, watched him grow up to be even more beautiful, even more spoiled. Had the pleasure of watching his life crash and burn…twice. But it wasn’t enough. As a teen, Matteo had starred in most of Evander’s fantasies, of both the sexual and revenge variety. He’d imagined tearing him apart in a thousand different ways, but never once had Matteo made it this simple. There was always a chase, a…seduction. He’d never expected the mouse to willingly scurry straight into the trap. It seemed almost cruel how easy it was. Almost.“I’m afraid I have to get going,” Evander said softly.The flash of panic across Matteo’s face was delicious. “Can we, um…exchange numbers? I don’t want to lose you again.” “Lose me?” Evander murmured. “I-” Matteo started, then cut himself off, flushing a deep red. Evander nodded, amused, throwing him a lifeline. “Sure.”He held out his phone, watching Matteo scramble to do the same. They exchanged with a quick tap.Evander made himself wait, just long enough to let the tension coil, before asking, “Would you like to have dinner with me, Matteo?”Matteo’s smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. “Really? Yeah. Um, yes. When?”“Tomorrow night.”Matteo gave a jerky nod, trying on a shy act that was equal parts endearing and irritating. “Sure. That would be great.”“Do you need me to send a car?”Matteo’s eyes went comically wide. “Oh, no. That’s fine. I can have my driver bring me. Just text me where you’d like to meet?”Evander didn’t hesitate. “How about my place?”“Your…place?”“Yes, the place where I live,” Evander said, smirking openly now.Matteo bit his plush bottom lip, pretending to weigh it. “I normally don’t go to a stranger’s house…but then, I guess you’re not really a stranger.”Evander didn’t confirm or deny. “Tomorrow. Eight o’clock?”“Okay.”“I’ll send you my address…for your driver,” he added smoothly.Matteo nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”He stepped back, turned, and walked away. Evander watched, patient…until Matteo predictably glanced over his shoulder, smiling and waving like it was scripted. There it is. Always playing a role. Always working an angle. Julian’s blood was singing. The thrill zipping through him better than any drug.Baxter and Julian could keep their talk shows and their prime time news specials. This was what Evander cared about. This was his idea of fun. He’d come to him. Matteo had come to him. Maybe there really was something to manifestation? After all, every time he’d pictured his perfect life, Matteo had played a role. Just maybe not the role he anticipated. He whistled as he walked, a pep in his step, as he strolled down the street. The first drops of rain were starting to fall, as he reached the restaurant at the end of the block. When he found their table at the back of the restaurant, his food was already waiting. But he was too distracted to eat, blood sugar be damned. Julian pounced the second he sat. “Was that him?”“Mm,” Evander said.“Him?” Baxter asked, leaning in. “Him who?”Julian’s face twisted. “The spoiled little shit who made Evander’s life hell as a kid. The one he never stopped obsessing over. Matteo Cruz.” Julian shook his head like he couldn’t fathom it. “He’s the one you’ve been keeping tabs on this whole time? Are you crazy?” Evander huffed a laugh. Jury’s still out. Baxter peppered him with questions. “Who’s Matteo Cruz? Why is Julian so horrified? Is that kid really your type?”Evander didn’t bother denying it. Pretty. Mean. Broken. Yeah, that’s my type.He didn’t bother to answer any of his friend’s questions. “Do me a favor,” he told Julian. “Call Boyce. Ask him why he didn’t report that Matteo never went back home after the picture scandal broke. Ask him who he’s been sleeping with these past few weeks.”“What scandal?” Baxter asked, just as Julian said, “You’ve had Boyce keeping tabs on Adrian Cruz’s son this whole time? The whole time? That’s insane…even for you.”Julian was so peculiar. He hadn’t batted an eye at Evander keeping tabs on his childhood crush/bully. But knowing it was Matteo Cruz was a bridge too far? “Is it?” Evander countered, distractedly, picturing those gorgeous blue-green eyes with their flecks of gold. The way he’d looked up at him. He couldn’t wait to see that look again under…different circumstances. Julian blinked at him. “You know it is. Look, I know you two have a…complicated past. I get it. We all have that one person we crushed on no matter how mean they were to us, but…don’t do anything stupid.” When Evander just smiled, Julian closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. “You’re already plotting something stupid, aren’t you?”Baxter startled at that. “Stupid? Stupid how? You can’t afford any scandals right now.”  Evander shrugged. “I didn’t seek him out. He came to me. How is this my fault?”Julian groaned. “You’re not actually going to get tangled up with Roger Koch’s grandson…right?” His tone was pure dread. Baxter inhaled his water wrong at the revelation, coughing hard enough to draw stares. Julian gave him an irritated look, before continuing a bit louder. “The man is teflon. He’s survived a scandal that put most people in prison and somehow recouped the entire fortune he lost in a ponzi scheme. He’s indestructible. A nuclear bomb could hit and the only thing to survive would be roaches and that fucking lunatic.” When Baxter’s coughing fit subsided, he wheezed out, “Roger Koch? The billionaire who collects politicians like they’re Pokémon? The man financially backing every right-wing screwball in congress?”“The very same,” Evander said calmly, sipping his drink. “You didn’t answer my question,” Julian said, pointing with his fork. “You’re not planning on dating this kid, right?”Evander smirked. “Date? No.”Not yet, anyway. He had much better things in store for Matteo. “I don’t like the look on your face,” Baxter said flatly.Julian nodded. “For once, I’m with him. I know Matteo was a monster, but you were kids. You said you’d moved on. You can’t still be holding a grudge.”A grudge? Please. This wasn’t about grudges. This was about potential. About a boy who could have been so much more, if only someone had guided him, loved him, given him the…strong hand he needed. “His father was an abusive dick, his mother abandoned him. He was nine. I was thirteen. What kind of weirdo would hold a grudge over that?”“The kind paying a private investigator to keep tabs on a kid he hasn’t seen since puberty,” Julian said, exchanging another concerned look with Baxter.They just didn’t understand. Matteo was more than just his childhood bully, more than a crush. They were soulmates. Destined. He’d just been biding his time. Baxter narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, Julian’s right. Your mouth is saying one thing, but your face is waving a dozen red flags.”Evander leaned back, calm and certain. “Matteo is…special. Like you said, we’ve always had a complicated relationship. But I always knew we’d meet again…one way or another. I never thought he’d come to me on his own. And I’m not one to squander an opportunity.”“I can’t tell if this is a romance or a thriller,” Baxter muttered. “You sound like a Criminal Minds episode right now.”Evander only smiled. “Me? He engineered this whole meet-cute. He came to me, desperate, wearing another man’s clothes, hiding his reversal of fortune. I’m his hail Mary before he has to admit defeat.”Julian looked both terrified and impressed. “You got all that from a five-minute conversation, Sherlock?”Evander nodded absently, already mapping out tomorrow night.“A Hail Mary? What does that mean?” Baxter asked. “I feel like I started this movie in the middle.” “About six weeks ago, photos of Matteo and another guy surfaced. It wasn’t even that scandalous, just making out in the back of some seedy club. But it was the last straw for Adrian. He booted Matteo out with nothing.” “What an asshole,” Baxter said, shaking his head. Evander nodded. “I thought he was just teaching him a lesson. That he’d let him feel the sting of poverty, then invite him back in. Force him to find a nice girl. Maybe make him get married and fake it for a few years before he couldn’t take it anymore. But this is so much better.” “Him not running back to his father is better?” Baxter asked. “For whom?” “Maybe his father didn’t give him the opportunity to repent this time,” Julian said, taking a sip of his iced tea. “You know how much he loves throwing around his Catholic faith.” “True,” Julian agreed. “But cutting off your children is a family tradition in the Koch/Cruz family. Once upon a time, Roger cut Matteo’s father off, too. That’s why they don’t have the same last name. He made him change it to his mother’s maiden name. Cruz. But unlike Matteo, Adrian fell in line within days.”“What does any of this have to do with you?” Baxter pressed.Evander smiled, pinching his own lip as he thought about the way Matteo looked up at him from beneath those sooty lashes. “He’s hunting. And I’m his target. He just realized I’m filthy rich. He knows I used to have a crush on him, so he’s gonna try to seduce me into buying him his old life back. If there’s one thing my Matteo can’t live without, it’s money.”“Your Matteo?” Julian echoed, sharing a look with Baxter. “Mm,” Evander said, still smiling. “He’s always been mine.” Julian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You literally just said you have no intention of dating him.”“And I don’t,” Evander said smoothly. “I don’t have to date him to give him what he needs.”“Which is?” Baxter prodded.“Food. Clothing. Shelter…Money.”Julian frowned. “You think he’ll take charity from his former housekeeper’s kid?”“That’s how you know him?” Baxter blurted, eyes going wide. “You were the help and he was the boss’s brat? What is this? A PassionFlix screenplay?”“My mom was the help,” Evander corrected. “And no, I’m not letting him off that easily. That would harm more than help.”“What makes you think he’ll agree to this…what is it you're offering exactly?” Evander’s smile sharpened, though his tone softened. “Redemption. I know Matteo better than he knows himself. He’s selfish, spoiled, shallow, but under all that, there’s a boy who could be so much more. He just needs someone willing to take their time with him, to break him down and build him back up the right way. Someone who won’t give up on him. He needs me.”Baxter mouthed he’s crazy to Julian, not subtle at all.Julian scrubbed a hand down his face. “To what?”“I told you. I’m going to give him what he needs,” Evander said, growing tired of the conversation.Baxter sighed, patience thinning. “So not a handout but…a job?”Evander’s eyes glinted, his smirk tender and terrifying all at once. “He’ll definitely work for it, but I think we’ll leave HR out of it…just this once.”