* * * *
Ambrosio was so ecstatic at the idea of Mireille coming to LA that he barely noticed Vez's ham-fisted efforts to engage him in stupid conversation as they drove to Sotheby's.
"I Googled Mr. Wolfe," Vez said.
"And?" Ambrosio lamented that it was twelve thirty-nine P.M. here, but only four thirty-nine in the morning in Japan. He waited at the lights that would let them merge onto the 405 Freeway. He was desperate to call Mireille, who was on a silk-buying trip in the remote mountain provinces of KMshin'etsu.
"He's supposed to be sixty-two but he looks damned good for his age."
"Yeah, he does." Ambrosio prided himself on having landed such a hot, hung husband.
"I thought it might be plastic surgery but I've made a practice of studying him. Not a single tuck behind the ears. Not a tuck to the forehead. Nothing."
Ambrosio couldn't believe Vez would say these things to him. His eyes began to burn. It wasn't the sun. He'd had all his windows tinted and his dark glasses were snug on his face.
No. This was anger, pure and simple, burning up inside him.
He'd never wanted to kill a human so badly. Not in three hundred years on earth.
"How do you think he stays so youthful?" Vez asked.
"I don't know. A painting in the attic?" Ambrosio's attempt at humor seemed to tick off Vez, who responded with, "No, I'm thinking it's all the cock you give him."
"What?" Ambrosio was so shocked he almost hit a telegraph pole as the lights changed and he barreled onto the freeway entrance.
Steady now. He's just fishing.
"Yep. I know you're an item. Everyone knows it. Virginia tells me you two are married."
The words hovered between them a moment like a stinky fart nobody would lay claim to. Ambrosio almost opened the window to get rid of the imaginary smell.
"No, she never said that to you." She can't know. We were so careful. Not only that, not a single human was at our wedding!
"You're right." Vez sounded disappointed. "She didn't. I just thought you might come clean. I've seen the way you two look at each other."
Ambrosio relaxed a little. "I think the world of him. He's the best boss I ever had. So knock it off with this bullshit, yeah?"
"Why won't you go out with me?"
"Because I'm not attracted to you, Vez."
That seemed to surprise his co-worker. "Ouch," he said.
When Ambrosio didn't respond, Vez lapsed into silence, save for the irritating drumming he began on the dashboard with his fingertips.
"You have a boyfriend?" he finally asked after they'd driven in silence for several miles.
"None of your business." Ambrosio hated being questioned about his love life. Wolfie had good reasons for not wanting to reveal their relationship status to his staff. It had proved catastrophic when Ambrosio first started working with him soon after they met.
Wolfie had been so good to Vez. He'd sponsored his green card and paid for his trucker driving classes when Vez had met them in Albuquerque a few years ago on another assignment. That had been a weird one. A Western costume museum in the middle of damned nowhere.
Vez got his license, but then changed his mind. He turned up at the museum one day, saying he wanted to work for Wolfie, who'd encouraged the man after seeing him work.
Ambrosio tried to tamp down his anger. Vez was the first human Wolfie had hired in decades. Miguel, the second. Trevor, a vampire, had been with Wolfie for twenty years. He and the pixies had been their only coworkers invited to their wedding. Ambrosio had always trusted Trevor, but now, Ambrosio wondered.
Where were all of Vez's questions coming from? He felt very awkward about working with the guy any longer. In his experience, humans never let sleeping dogs lie. They tortured and abused them.
He knows something. He's not just fishing. Somebody said something.
But who?
As they reached their destination, he received a text from Wolfie.
Vez knows about us. He told Miguel he's got a crush on you and followed you home the other night. Be careful.
Ambrosio's skin went cold.
Careful? He'd be more than just that.
A Rock-It Cargo truck pulled in the laneway beside him.
"Go help him load up the trunks, please," he said. "I need to call the Sunset warehouse staff and make sure they're waiting for us."
"No, you're not. You're going to call Wolfie...I mean, Mr. Wolfe, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear."
Ambrosio swiveled his head toward Vez. If it hadn't been broad daylight and if he hadn't needed the guy to help him on this job, he'd have killed him on the spot.
He just stared at Vez, who seemed to wilt under his apparent scrutiny.
"Just kiddin', man," he said, and got out of the SUV.
He longed to call his husband, but was surprised when his cell phone rang. It was Mireille.
"I was sleeping," she said, her voice drowsy and low, "And I got the sudden feeling something was wrong. What's going on, Ambrosio?"
He talked quickly, telling her about Vez and his desire for her to move to LA.
"Wolfie really said that? That he wants me there, too?"
"Absolutely, he did. He said he misses you, too."
"I'm there," she said. "I miss you so much."
"I miss you too, sweetheart." As they ended their call, Ambrosio decided it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but keeping his husband safe and happy, keeping his secret, their secrets, intact.
He missed more than anything the sound of Wolfie's voice. He pushed down the small, shouting voice inside him that tried to tell him it was all about to go to hell in a hand basket.
Or maybe a bustya.
He called Wolfie and felt the sensation of pure pleasure wash over his whole body. Nothing and nobody mattered more than his sensational, loving, sexy, passionate Mr. Wolfe.
Chapter 5
Ambrosio hated spending time away from Wolfie. It took longer than he anticipated to get the trunks into the warehouse on
