Into His Arms

"Get the luggage ready by next noon" The assistant nodded, running his fingers through the sheaf of papers. The dining room was lit, in beauty and style, its gold luxury glistening off every proper corner and nook of the wall. Cupboards flushed with glass crockeries, vases and fresh flowers adorned the right while the left of the big-sized table was embraced in portraits "Sir, but we have that lunch in the afternoon...after our official meet" That remark wasn't quite appealed by him. His eyes wavered at the mention, twisting the silence into a peak of warning for the young lad, who now in his shining suit and tie, flinched. Through those sweaty brows, he looked up at his master, who now had pulled down his shades. "Lunch isn't the appropriate word. It is a buffet, Frank" The latter nodded vigorously, his breath gasping at the way his name had been pronounced. Only he knew how insulting it would be to hear one's name spoken, spelled from those thick lips. Fresh and one which could convey or rather spit curses without even actually saying it. That harsh tone mingled in pride and absolute manliness could scare even a lion that had consumed ten he-goats. "I apologize, sir. The buffet it is" He stood up. Pulling in the sides of the black Gucci coat, he smirked. Now that figure is a spellbound factor, one with which even a man would drool but Frank knew he wouldn't. Not only because he had engaged Gale but also because that trust his master had within him, needed to be maintained at all dear costs. Now, he stood next to him, both hands buried in those rich Louis Philippe pockets, as he stared hard at his assistant, the trust he had grabbed from another well-embraced company, King Liar thirteen years back. "So, as always, send someone in for the package." Frank bowed in respect. "Yes sir." He made sure to keep an eye on his master, till the door closed behind. Then a smirk or a giggle perhaps fell from his lips. Just thinking how his master craved food brought forward it always. "It is indeed a lovely afternoon" Frank stayed on put with his good manners. Keeping all the papers inside, except for that personal diary where schedules and all important facts went in, he opened the door for his master. Cars rich in glory and pompous splendor came shining into the pavement, but undoubtedly, the richest businessman in the city could always stay on the top. The red Ferrari of the latest edition with its open sunroof showing off that great lean body was more than enough to keep the cameras and the lively attention of every man on him. However Frankie shared no part of him, instead acted more like a servant than an assistant. Out he walked, dressed in those same suit and tie, however now red and white, those matching colors Frankie had said, looked bad on him. Now that wasn't new; he always did what was wrong. The flashing cameras subsided when Frankie and the two security guards outside Royal Egmore gave space.  And in walked the living legend, the boy who caught every eye and melted them; Tony Parker. The richest and most gorgeous. Yet, the scariest ever. "Please sit down" Tony dragged his eyes over every single chair. The one which had been marked his, stood next to the wall. Had been all fine, set up in the luxurious cushion seat but a problem. Right next to Lady Hasey; the annoying business rival of Tony Companies. "I need it changed" It wasn't a scream neither a whisper.  Just an order.  "SERVANTS!". Now that is the shrill yet commanding voice of Mrs. Fancy, the coordinator of this 'buffet' as well as the most royal woman whose lack of love had pushed her into a business crisis a few years back. Nevertheless, she had pulled herself back only after Tony offered her a million dollars. That on the other hand wasn't his idea but his dad's who had passed away just the day after.  But that scream she had, was not only for the pride and gratitude but also a tinge of libido she had. What was surprising was it stood strong even in her forties. .All those dignitaries seated around the dining table were rushed about and pushed, or rather forgotten about even though they represented many more productive companies and ownerships. However, they didn't complain, even when their seats were pushed aside, or shuffled about. They remained or rather pretended to be engrossed in talks, phones, or simply silence. Tony remained, as the man of the show, just beside Frankie, who was keenly jabbing his sweat from the queer attention. "Sir, it is done", he uttered on seeing the seats beautiful and changed now. But Tony didn't walk forward, instead stood still like a stone, rigid and flaccid. "Sir?" "Give me a minute" And around the settled table, upstairs he walked, making straight into the bathroom.                                                                         Tony's POV. The white clean tiles of granite flourished the smooth floor. The marble shining off a state of love birds hanging in a corner. The fresh smell of flowers in a vase kept beside the basins; cleaned and occupied with handwashes, each of them overlooked a large white mirror capturing reflections of everything passing through the way. Behind, many wooden doors opened to private spots, not even a sound echoing from either. Tony looked up in confusion, whether he had been mistaken. But just then, a toilet flushed and a door flung open. Out he walked, just as had been envisioned a few seconds before. Tony stood, thunderstruck as the lad made to the basins without giving him a second glance, washing his hands. He, however, remained staring. "..Excuse me?", he gathered his voice. The boy looked up at the glass, to see both their images standing side by side, the unfamiliar one pushing some toilet paper to his hands. "Umm...Thank you.", he replied, grabbing it. Tony ran his eyes over him again. Lean just like him. However strong for such young blood. That jawline could cut through anything. Skin, white and pale looked anemic but as beautiful as it could embrace his perfect nose and thick blue eyes. That grown hair ran over his forehead, concealing it and its piggy tail reached up to his neck. The apron hung lifelessly over him, while those jeans hung on, exposing his sexy legs. What was really attractive were those lips. Thick, fleshy and so red unlike his color. It when squished, made an image on Tony, which from then on became his guilty pleasure. "Beautiful....", his voice whispered. The words brought the latter, to remain still, dumbfounded, and absolutely hysteric. "Name?" Tony found his voice again. But the boy stood no further. Instead, tried to make a run for the door but a hand-blocked him.  In stark consternation, the boy asked firmly, "I do have a mouth, mister. But please don't make a scene here." "Why would I make one?" "I don't know...You look rebellious" Hearing that, Tony almost fainted in delight. This feeling not walking away. "Then tell me, why shouldn't I make one?" He bit his lip, turning on the rich guy. "Umm..because my missus really wants this to go well" Tony nodded approvingly. "Have you asked her why?" He shook his head. Tony decided to let it be, but not without a favor. "I swear I won't make a scene, fine?" Those admirable lips lit up in a smile, one that tightened his cheeks and jaws. Tony almost cummed. "But I need something in return..." His blue eyes gazed. "Anything of my service, sir" Tony sneered. "Come to my office tonight. We can have a talk. A fun one, I assure you" The lad gasped. The silence pitter-pattered, while two men stood, staring at each other. One in a sudden trauma while the other in a strange fluttering.