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bearā€™s arse.ā€ The derisive note in his voice was suddenly too much for Blake to bear, and as for him denigrating Blakeā€™s teamā€¦.

ā€œIā€™m on it, Dad. Iā€™m interviewing a candidate for the position tomorrow.ā€ He picked up the folder which contained all the details and brandished it at his father. ā€œWill Parkinson: excellent qualifications, glowing references, seems ambitiousā€”he looks perfect.ā€

Justinā€™s jaw dropped. ā€œA man? Youā€™re interviewing for a male PA?ā€

Christ, I knew I shouldnā€™t have said anything. ā€œYes, Dad. You got a problem with that?ā€ No sooner had the words left his lips, than Blake knew it was a mistake. Justin Davis bristled, his jaw clenched.

ā€œFar be it from me to tell you how to run things, sonā€¦ā€ his father began. Blake stared in frank astonishment. The man does nothing but tell me.

ā€œThen donā€™t, Dad.ā€ Blake watched as Justin snapped his head up, eyes wide. ā€œI seem to be doing pretty well without your advice, donā€™t I?ā€ Blake picked up the morningā€™s newspaper and turned to the financial pages. ā€œWe made ink again. Profits are upā€”again. And the new markets are proving to be a success.ā€ He threw the paper down onto the desk, a gauntlet of sortsā€”if his father dared to pick it up.

Justinā€™s lips narrowed. ā€œI canā€™t deny youā€™ve turned the company around, Blake.ā€ Well, that was a first. ā€œAnd starting up a department for translating books into other languages, well, itā€™s not an avenue I ever explored, certainly, but it seems to be paying off.ā€ Justinā€™s eyes locked onto Blakeā€™s. ā€œBut I canā€™t say Iā€™m happy about this idea of yours of selling theseā€¦male/male books.ā€ His mouth twisted as he spoke, as though the words themselves left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Blake gave his father a patient smile.

ā€œHave you even looked to see just how much business those books are bringing in? Gay fiction is a huge market, Dadā€¦ and itā€™s a genre thatā€™s growing more popular all the time.ā€ It was clear from Justinā€™s expression, however, that this argument cut no ice, and for a second, Blakeā€™s gut twisted. If his father felt this way about gay fictionā€¦. Blake waited to see if his father would add anything, but Justin kept silent.

Blake walked toward the door and opened it. He turned to his father.

ā€œThanks for stopping by, Dad, but I really do have a lot on for today.ā€ He smiled, hoping that Justin would take up the hint. To his relief, his father gave a brisk nod and made his way to the door. As he passed Blake, Justinā€™s eyes met his.

ā€œHappy Birthday, son.ā€ He paused. ā€œWill you be seeing Melissa this evening?ā€

Blake kept his face straight. ā€œNo, Dad, not tonight.ā€

Justinā€™s expression revealed his disappointment. ā€œOh.ā€ He obviously wanted to say more on the subject, but after a glance at Blakeā€™s face, seemed to change his mind. Nodding once more, Justin filed past his son and out of the office, Blake watching from the door as his father exited the floor. He let out his pent-up breath in a long push of air.

Closing the office door behind him, Blake sat down behind his desk and leaned back into it. It had been tough growing up without a mother. Blake and his father had muddled on as best they could since her death from lung cancer when Blake was thirteen, but theirs had not been a close relationship. The two men were nothing alike. When Blake first realized he was gay at the age of sixteen, heā€™d fought against the very idea. He already felt alienated from his fatherā€”there was no way he wanted yet another thing to expand the yawning chasm between them.

As to what made him hide his sexuality? Vivid memories of when his uncle Dominic came to visit. Dominic was his motherā€™s brother and not one to hide the fact that he was gay. All Blake knew was that his father hated Dominic, and that was enough to keep him in his warm, safe closet for the foreseeable future. Dates with Melissa so far had been briefs forays to clubs and a couple of dinners. Certainly nothing intimate. Blake was hoping sheā€™d get the message and give up, the same as all the would-be girlfriends his father had organized in the past. So far not one of them had commented on the fact that Blake hadnā€™t made a move to get them into bed. And as long as it stayed that way, Blake was happy.

Blake took out his phone, scrolling through to find Jennyā€™s number. He stared at it for a second, his thoughts conflicted. It had been a while since heā€™d required Jennyā€™s specialist services, but right now, he needed. God, how he neededā€¦

His mind made up, Blake called the number, smiling as he heard Jennyā€™s voice on the other end. Jenny always sounded as though she was smiling.

ā€œHi, Jenny, Blake Davis here.ā€ Blake was happy that he didnā€™t have to hide with Jenny: the woman was discretion personified. Well, in her line of business, she needed to be.

ā€œBlake!ā€ He could hear the note of delight in her voice. Theyā€™d progressed from ā€˜Mr. Davisā€™ to ā€˜Blakeā€™ over the course of the last two years, and Blake could now chat easily with her. ā€œWhat can I do for you?ā€

ā€œPlease tell me you have someone available for tonight?ā€ Blake couldnā€™t quite keep the desperate tone from his voice. Jenny chuckled in his ear, as he heard the click of her nails on the keyboard.

ā€œHappy Birthday, by the way.ā€

Blake laughed. He shouldnā€™t have been surprised Jenny knew it was his birthday: she obviously prided herself on providing an excellent service for her clients, and knowing little details like birthdays added the personal touch. ā€œThanks, Jenny.ā€ He waited, more clicking audible at the other end of the line. At last he heard her sigh of satisfaction.

ā€œOoh, youā€™re going to like this one.ā€ There was a gleeful note in her voice that sparked Blakeā€™s interest. ā€œHeā€™s new on my books, been with me about three months. But

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