The boss’ party was in full swing, all sorts of laughing and tinkling silverware going on in there. He? He was officially off work.
Speaking of the boss, Anton came in, looking unbelievably good in a tux, his hair pulled back. Growling and grumbling, the man went to the fridge and poked around.
“Stay out of my stores, bossman.” He leaned back against the pantry, grinned.
Anton looked over at him, an eyebrow quirking. “Your stores?”
“Yep. I order it. I mete them out. Mine mine mine.” He chuckled around the mouth of his beer.
Anton watched him drink, waited until he was done before answering him. “I pay for them. Mine. Mine. Mine.”
Greg grinned, rolled his eyes. “What did you need, man? Was something missing from the meal?”
“I was trapped by an overly enthusiastic young lady.” Anton rolled his eyes.
“Oh, dude. You missed the filet? That’s a shame.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any of it left?” Anton made eyes at him.
“I suppose I can make you one, even if I’m off the clock.” He chuckled and headed for the fridge. Spoiled man.
Anton’s face lit up and he went and sat on one of the stools at the island. “Haven’t you realized yet that you’re never truly off the clock? My appetites can’t tell time.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I just haven’t trained them yet.” He heated his pan for the sear. “There are some leftover potatoes. Do you want them?”
Anton shook his head. “No, I’m good with just the meat. If you had two pieces…”
“There probably are, yeah.” His boss was all about the protein. “Rare, yes?”
“As usual.” Anton pulled at his bow tie, growling a little.
“It’ll be five minutes, man.” Rock salt. Pepper. Sear.
He did love his equipment.
The tie came off and then Anton sighed and put it back around his neck, doing it back up again with tight little movements. “I don’t understand why dressing well always involves strangling oneself.”
“Don’t ask me. I’m not the tie type. I’m the tattoos and leather type.”
“Mmm… I do love the smell of leather. And I bet that would be a far different party than this one.”
“You know it, bossman. My parties are very different than yours.” Incredibly. Man, he needed to get laid in the worst way.
“Will the meat be long?” Anton asked, getting up and wandering restlessly around the kitchen. “The moon’s almost full.”
“Two minutes. Are you into the moon, man?” He knew lots of people who were.
Anton looked out the window, and loosened his tie again, taking it off altogether. “Yes.” The word was little more than a growl.
“Cool.” He found a plate in the warmer, swirled a little brown butter down on it, and slid the steaks on.
Anton strode back as soon as he’d plated the steaks, all but grabbing the plate from him.
“Easy, man. You want some berries and cream for dessert?”
“Depends.” Anton sat and cut each fillet into four, and then speared each piece, barely seeming to chew before he swallowed it down.
“On what?” Christ, wolf it down.
Those dark grey eyes met his, almost glowing. “On how it’s being served.”
“Your guests got it on a silver platter…” Sex on a stick.
Anton looked at his plate like he was going to lick it clean. Of course when the man looked back up at him, Anton wore that same look. “I prefer a more personal service.”
“More personal?” Was he being flirted with?
“Indeed. More personal. You are my chef after all, are you not?” Anton’s gaze was intense.
“That’s what it says on the job description, bossman…” The question was did Anton play the same games he did?
Oh man, look at the way those eyes caught the light. “Then feed me some of these berries and cream.”
He headed to the refrigerator, found the leftovers and a plate. “You want to do this here, with everyone watching?”
Anton glanced around the room, looking surprised when his eyes lighted on the kids doing the dishes and jabbering quietly together. “No. My rooms.”
“I…” He stopped, met Anton’s eyes. “Is this going to lose me my job here? I’m off the clock for this, you know?”
Anton’s eyes flashed. “This has nothing to do with your job.” Just listen to that growl.
“Good answer.” There was a little voice in the back of his head going, ‘wait, what are you doing, are you stupid?’
It was completely drowned out by the voice singing the ‘we’re getting laid’ song.
Anton stalked into the pantry and opened the hidden door, disappearing down the corridor. He followed, berries in hand, trying hard not to spill any. When he got to Anton’s room, it was lit solely by the moon shining through the open window, and the dancing flames in the fireplace.
Anton himself lounged in the middle of the large chair, one leg flung over the chair’s arm. There was an air of the predator emanating from the man.
“So, how do you want to do this? You just want a bite?”
Anton shifted, sitting up in the chair and patting his lap. “Have a seat and feed me properly, Greg. Though I won’t forget your offer to bite.”
Oh, hell. That was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He just stared, caught in the look in Anton’s eyes.
Anton licked his lips. “Anytime.”