Take Me

Chapter Three: Bar

Kaz's driver eased the town car to the curb outside the bar Milo had given him directions to after they left the restaurant. The entire drive had given him a chance to bury the roiling nausea caused by flashbacks of his life imploding so he was left with boiling anger. Celeste was getting f*****g married—a year after . . . he couldn't even bring himself to think of it without exploding or going on an insane rampage through the city. Love sucked. Having a day to celebrate it sucked worse. Finding out the girl he once loved was getting married on said day was cause for damage. Serious damage. Preferably to a bottle of tequila.

The second the car glided to a stop, he threw open the door and headed straight into Santino—an upscale hole in the wall that harkened back to the quiet bar days. No dance floor here. The bouncer outside nodded as Milo approached, knocking on the door once. It was members only, for people who liked to drink alone and not be bothered.

“He’s with me,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder at Kaz, who he assumed trailed behind him.

The bouncer nodded again just as the door slid open. Milo continued in and headed straight for the massive mahogany bar that dominated the space. The lack of Valentine’s Day décor made him feel marginally better. Thank God for tiny miracles. Unfortunately, the lack of people drinking themselves to an early grave showed just how in love the entire city was. And the nausea he’d kicked came back mixed with a new level of pathetic. Was he the only broken-hearted SOB in a city of millions? Impossible. But it sure seemed that way.

Peter, the bartender, grinned at him but the second he recognized the blood in Milo’s expression he immediately filled a shot glass with the most expensive tequila they had in stock. Milo threw back its contents. The golden liquid carved a burning trail down his throat, easing his rising temper. He slammed the shot glass down and Peter immediately filled it again. The guy was getting a ridiculously large tip tonight.

“Straight up?” he asked, pointing at the slices of lime in a wooden bowl and the salt shaker.

In response, Milo downed the second shot without giving the tequila training wheels Peter indicated a glance.

“Straight up then.” He filled the glass again. “Would you like to drink it straight out of the bottle to save time?”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm today,” Milo growled, rethinking the huge tip idea. He took a seat on the leather barstool as he swallowed the third shot.

Finally, the hot anger turned into warm annoyance. The tequila was doing its job. A few more and he would be in happy oblivion. He couldn’t wait. With the half a slab of ribs in his stomach, it would take most of the bottle before he was good and drunk. And hopefully stupid.

What started off as a night of eating his feelings away had turned into getting plastered until he blacked out and all the events prior to arriving at Santino ceased to exist.

Peter whistled. “Who screwed you over?”

Milo glared. “You don’t need to keep pouring. Just leave the bottle and I’ll take care of myself.”

The bartender shrugged and moved a step toward Milo’s left where Kaz had taken his own seat. “I’m assuming you’re a guest of this fool?”

Kaz said in that deep, serious voice of his, “I’ll have a scotch neat.”

“What kind?” Peter asked back.

“Top shelf black label,” Milo answered for him after downing his fourth shot. He glanced sideways at Kaz who nodded. The man treated him to the same assessing gaze he’d been given when they first met this morning. “This one is on me. And don’t argue. Your money won’t be accepted here because you’re not a member.”

Kaz looked at Peter who confirmed Milo’s statement with a nod as he slid the glass of scotch toward him. Milo slipped off the barstool and indicated one of the most private booths with a tilt of his head.

Wrapping a large hand around his drink, Kaz unfolded his impressive height off the stool and sauntered over to the booth with the swagger of a man who owned any room he was in. Even an empty one. Milo took a moment to study his broad shoulders that tapered to slim hips and a nice ass before he closed his fingers around the tequila bottle’s neck and followed. He slid into the opposite bench of their booth.

"I'm far from the last person to tell you this, but shouldn't you, at least, think of slowing down?" Kaz asked after taking a languid sip of his drink like a man who had all night to spend with someone about to get slobbering drunk.

Milo covered an unattractive burp with the crook of his elbow then said, “The drunker I get the better I will feel.”

His impromptu drinking companion snorted. “Said every alcoholic in the world.”

To make his point, he swallowed another shot. He'd lost count at this point. This was good. Losing count meant he was well on his way to being blackout drunk. “This is for one night only. Trust me.”

The soft lighting and brick interior gave the bar a masculine feel that fit Kaz so well. Milo stared at him from across the table through hooded eyes.

“So…” Kaz tilted his glass toward him. “What are we drinking to?”

He refilled his shot glass and raised it. “To bitches who break your heart.”

They touched glasses.

After taking another sip from his scotch, Kaz fished out a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo with a dragon design from his inside jacket pocket. In practiced moves, he tapped out a cig and sandwiched it between his lips. Then he flipped the lighter open and sharply turned the wheel with his thumb. The flame danced for a moment. Seconds later, he exhaled, filling their space with smoke. The entire process was hypnotic to watch. Milo admired the man’s balls for not caring if he minded. In truth, he didn’t. Models smoked like chimneys.

“What’s the story?” he asked after another drag. “It’s obvious Celeste is more than just a friend.”

Milo was sufficiently drunk enough for the walls to come done. Soon the loss of his inhibitions would follow. But before things got crazy, talking things through in drunken commiseration seemed like just what he needed.

“Celeste and I started going out my junior year of college. She was the best damn thing that ever happened in my life. Before her I was just coasting along, content to keep moving forward without a real goal in mind. She was the one who convinced me to aim to become the editor-in-chief of Rebel after Cassandra retires.” He shook his head in disappointment. “She showed me what I could do if I applied myself.”

With an unreadable expression, Kaz listened. He nodded once in a while to show Milo he was paying attention as if the seriousness of his features hadn’t been an indicator of his rapt interest in what he was saying. So continue on he did between more shots.

“I was so in love with her that I was willing to move to Tokyo for a year just so we wouldn’t have to do the long distance thing.”

“Ah, that explains your proficiency in Nihongo.”

“Damn straight. Hers too.” He slapped the tabletop, welcoming the sting in his palm. “Three years into our relationship, I was ready to settle down and start making babies with her. Or so I thought. You saw her tonight. Wasn’t she the most beautiful thing on two legs you’ve ever seen?”

“I’ve seen better,” Kaz muttered into his second glass of scotch that Peter sent over along with an ashtray.

“Well, to me, she was the sunshine after a long winter. I was f*****g crazy about her.” He snorted. “I had everything planned. Valentine’s Day. Reserved the best table at our favorite restaurant. I even had the ring. Harry Winston. A karat for each year we were together. Princess cut—”

“Because she was your princess,” he interrupted, disgust clear in his statement.

“You’re getting it.” Milo had guzzled enough of the tequila that his long awaited numbness finally arrived. He could get through this next part without falling apart. “Everything was going smoothly. I was in my best Armani and she was in this sexy emerald green Stella McCartney I borrowed from the Rebel closet just for her. I pre-ordered all her favorite food including the baked Alaska she loved that I completely abhorred.”

“Don’t tell me, the ring was in the dessert.”

“Hell no!” He licked at the tequila that didn’t quite make it all the way into his mouth. “I wasn’t going to leave a ring like that in the hands of the wait staff. I had it tucked inside my breast pocket, waiting for the right moment. Little did I know she had plans of her own.” He shook his head ruefully and sighed long and loud. "She waited until the middle of dessert. With a serious expression, she reached across the table for my hand. When I moved to lace our fingers together and she refused. It should have been my first red flag.” His lips disappeared into a tight line. The tequila moved from comforting to sickening. The room may have begun to spin a little. "With a serious face, she began telling me that in the last six months she'd met someone else and had been seeing him behind my back. I was so shocked all I could do was stare.”

Kaz cursed under his breath in Japanese, scratching his eyebrow with a thumb. The smoke from his second cigarette curled toward the ceiling.

“Kuso is right,” he repeated. "Afterward, she got up and walked out. When I got home all her stuff was gone. She’d packed and moved out while I was preparing for what should have been the most romantic night of our lives. I hadn’t seen her again until tonight. And f*****g engaged. Probably to the same prick she was screwing around with behind my back.” Tired of using the glass, he drank straight from the bottle. What the hell? He was beyond caring at this point. “I never thought anything could hurt more until I saw her all gorgeous and f*****g happy and there I was attempting to drown myself in a platter of baby back ribs. I didn’t think she could ever break my heart twice, but she managed it quite nicely tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaz murmured.

The sincerity in those blue eyes raised Milo’s ire. “Don’t pity me. I may look pathetic right now, but come morning I will be fine.” He tilted his head back, mouth open, and poured more booze down his throat. The bottle was dangerously running low. Then he slurred out, “There’s no such thing as a happily ever after, Kaz. Be good to remember that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because mine just ripped out my heart and stomped on it with size eight, stiletto Christian Louboutins.” He slid out of his side of the booth and slipped in beside Kaz.

Beneath the scent of scotch, he smelled of musk and spice. Of course. A masculine scent for such a masculine man. Milo could never pull off that kind of cologne. He opted for cooler scents. His inhibitions had finally left the building when he leaned in and pressed his nose against the swath of skin above Kaz’s shirt collar. The man didn’t flinch away—a testament to his confidence.

Then he said, “Goes to show what happens when you let your guard down. Love will eat you alive and spit you out.” Without thinking of the consequences of his actions, he snuggled closer against Kaz and rested his head on the other man’s strong shoulder. "That's why after what that b***h Celeste did, I promised myself I would never fall in love again. For an entire year, I buried myself in work and became Cassandra's executive assistant. I'm learning everything I can about how Rebel operates, making important contacts in the fashion industry like Kenji, and preparing myself for the day I could take over."

“Sounds like a good plan,” Kaz said. He shifted and settled his arm around Milo’s shoulders, pulling him in closer.

All Milo could think was how warm the man sitting beside him felt against his own body. No matter how hot under the collar he got from the massive amounts of tequila he’d been drinking, he couldn’t get enough of the heat that emanated from Kaz.

To think this day started with him being so intimidated by this serious, eloquent, handsome-as-sin Japanese business man. Now that they’d spent some time together, and he’d bared his soul, there was nothing intimidating about him at all. In fact, beneath his stoic shell was a s*x appeal Milo found quite attractive. He was drunk enough to admit that to himself. He’d been working around beautiful people long enough to appreciate high quality when he saw it.

“Have you ever considered being a model?” he murmured up at Kaz. "I'm pretty sure Brioni would hire you on the spot for anyone of their catalogs."

Husky laughter reverberated from deep inside the guy he sat so close to. The sound hit Milo in all the right places. He lamented the fact that layers of clothing separated them.

“You, my friend, are sufficiently drunk.”