Marry Me, G. Hauser [ereader for textbooks .txt] 📗

stare at him.

Exhaling tiredly, Fabian suddenly wished he’d had a better

attitude at that interview. Maybe he could be the one to get paid, to stare at Braxton over a desk.

“Oh well, fucked it up.” He headed home and tried not to get

depressed again after such a nice night out.

~

Scott opened the limousine door and reached out his hand.

Braxton took it and was hauled out of the car and into his arms.

He leaned against Scott’s chest and enjoyed his handsome good

looks. “Wanna come up?”

Scott appeared shocked. “Damn. Just made plans. Can’t

cancel. Been wanting this man’s ass for ages.”

“I don’t want to know who.” Braxton held up his hand and

made a move to stand apart from Scott. He never invited men up

to his place. He must be very lonely indeed.

Scott drew him close and Braxton moaned, yearning being in

the arms of a man, and felt his cock swell as Scott groped him

between his legs.

“Next time.” Scott touched Braxton’s nose playfully and

walked around the car, climbing in and driving off.

Braxton watched the car vanish. “How bad is it when a whore

like Scott Baldwin won’t fuck me?” He shook his head and

opened the lobby door with his key, making his way to his unit.

Once inside, he stripped off the tuxedo, changed into a pair of

gym shorts, and grabbed a white carton of leftover Chinese food

in the refrigerator to reheat. He was beyond hungry—he was

dizzy. As he stood over the sink, eating the noodles and chicken

with chopsticks, he thought about the week ahead. Between the

workload and these three ‘dates’ he wished he could hop a plane

to London and vanish for a few months.

He needed help.

He needed Fabian.

Still chewing his last bite, he texted Brianna, ‘ did you hire

him yet? ’

She immediately called.

Braxton swallowed his mouthful of food and put the

container on the counter. “Hey.”

“No, I thought I’d call him Monday. Why are you home? Is

the auction finished?”

“No. It’s still going on, but my gig was.”

“How did you do?”

He opened the fridge and removed a bottle of water. “Raised

ten grand for three dates.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.” With one hand holding the phone, he used his teeth

to open the plastic bottle, spit the cap into the sink, and gulped

the water. “One for five, one for three, and one for two. They

progressively lost interest.”

“I doubt that. I bet it was the venue. Ya know, the places they

were going to dine as well.”

Braxton didn’t think of that. “Well, I got one old geezer, one

stud who looks like he’d be the first one in the men’s room to

suck a cock, and a very young woman, whose parents bought

me.”

“Uh oh. I’d be more afraid of the last one. That has marriage

written all over it.”

“You’re funny. You know that?” He leaned back on the

counter and looked at his noodles that were in the white carton.

“I’m lonely, Brianna.”

“Aw… You need to date people more than once, Brax!”

“I know. I just don’t like anyone enough to go out again.

Christ, if they get on my nerves in one day…”

“You’re too much of an A-type. You have to slow down or

you’ll have a coronary.”

“I can’t. I have too much work to do. I simply can’t.” Braxton

stared at the food and tossed the remainder out. He sat on his

sofa and slumped over. “I need Prozac, don’t I? Like something

to calm me down?”

“I don’t know. But you need to stop trying to do everything.

Look, do you want me to see if I can get in touch with Fabian

now to ask him—”

“No. Not late on a Saturday night.”

“I can just email him so he has it in the morning. I don’t mean

call.”

“Can we? You think he can start on Monday?”

“He had a temp contract. Didn’t you discuss when it ended?”

“Didn’t you ask him on the application when he could start?”

“I think he wrote ‘immediately’ but they all do that.”

“Fuck.” Braxton ran his hand through his hair. “Yes. Email

him. I don’t want to lose him.”

He heard Brianna giggle.

“You know what I mean. The man is overqualified and,

well…”

“Gorgeous?”

“He’s probably straight. Or seeing someone. Just because

he’s not married doesn’t mean he’s—”

“Braxton.”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take a long hot bath and rest? You’re about

to have a stroke.”

“I have three dates next week with people I don’t even

know!” He closed his eyes and cringed.

“Dinner. You just have to eat a meal. Okay? Maybe you do

need Prozac, or valium, or Xanax…”

“Okay.” He held up his hand. “Enough. Just email him.”

“Will do, boss. And congrats on the ten grand. Wow, that’s

just unbelievable. Think of all the cash you raised for cancer

research. At least give yourself one pat on the back.”

Braxton smiled. “Thanks, Brianna.”

“Good night, Braxton.”

He hung up and looked at his phone. A dozen text messages

were there. One by one he checked on them to make sure no one

was in crisis…like he was.

~

Fabian was lounging in his sweats and T-shirt, his laptop on

his knees as he sank into his sectional sofa in front of the TV, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was catching up on

emails and the social sites when an email popped into his box

from PRTodd.Brianna@BraxtonTodd.com.

Fabian’s heart began pounding as he realized who it was

from. Opening it, expecting the usual kiss off, he had to slow

himself down because he read it and couldn’t believe it.

‘ Mr Rhys, I am happy to offer you the job of assistant to Mr

Todd, beginning Monday or at your earliest convenience. Please

be in touch with our office as soon as possible to accept this

offer or to let us know you have decided not to join our team.

Regards, Brianna Cambridge

cc: Braxton Todd.’

“Are you shitting me?” Fabian reread it again. “You’re

offering me the job?” He blinked and stared into space. “Do I

want to work for a dick like you?”

Fabian opened up a link he had saved of a photo of Braxton,

shirtless, looking absurdly handsome.

“Oh, hell yeah. Who am I kidding?”

Fabian checked the time and wrote back. ‘ Yes. Thank you

very much for accepting my application. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning. ’

Did he give a shit