The echo in Sacha’s head made him jump. He swung his gaze up from the floor to find Jonah in front of him, clutching a paper bag from Sacha’s favourite Russian-owned bakery. The scent of kolbasa reached him. “You bought a Russian breakfast?”
Jonah smiled, though concern still coloured his bright gaze. “For you. I didn’t know what any of it was, so I got eggs and bacon on mine.”
“Show me.”
“Move over then, unless you’re going somewhere?”
“I am not.”
A pause stretched out while Jonah waited. Sacha blinked and collected himself, and somehow sliding back into Jonah’s bed was easier than it had been in his head.
Jonah emptied the bag. He’d ordered open sandwiches with sliced egg and kolbasa sausage for Sacha, and eggs and bacon for himself, topped with tomato and dill. Bastardised for Englishmen, it wasn’t an exact translation of the simple zavtrak he’d once eaten back home, but it was close enough that his heart suffered another gentle contraction. “What made you choose Karaway for your breakfast, Jonah Gray?”
“Is that what it’s called?” Jonah claimed his sandwich and set it on his lap. “I just googled Russian breakfast places that delivered. I don’t even know where it came from, though it didn’t take long, so it can’t be far.”
“It is ten minutes from here,” Sacha said. “Walk south and turn right.”
Jonah side-eyed him. “Do you live nearby?”
“To what? You, or the bakery?”
“Both.”
“Yes, that is my answer.”
“You don’t want me to know where you live?”
“That is not what I said. I gave you the answer to your question.”
“I know. But it sounds like you’re being mysterious on purpose.”
Sacha unwrapped his sandwich, biting his lip to contain his grin. Jonah likely didn’t know it, but he was just like his mother. A people person. “I am not being mysterious. It is very clear. Walk south from here and turn right, and you will find my home.”
“Do you live alone?”
“Of course. Do I strike you as someone who would share his space?”
Jonah didn’t answer for a moment. He bit into his breakfast and chewed thoughtfully. “Honestly? When I see you scowling around the office, no, I can’t imagine you living with anyone. But you’re not always like that. You seem happy enough when you’re here.”
“That is with you,” Sacha retorted without thought. “I do not spend this time with anyone else.”
“Why me?”
Sacha shrugged, reaching for a nonchalance that didn’t exist. “Why not?”
“See? Mysterious.” Jonah let it go and polished off his breakfast. Then he left Sacha alone while he made more coffee.
Go. Leave. You’ve stayed long enough.
But Sacha didn’t leave. He drank more coffee and sank further in Jonah’s bed with him. They watched bad films on the TV in Jonah’s bedroom and took their clothes off. Sacha fucked Jonah in his bed, rolling him onto his belly and taking him hard and rough, the way they both liked. Jonah ordered more food. They slept and showered, then slept again.
It was Sunday evening before Sacha went home.
11
Monday morning marked a return to snatched glimpses of Sacha through glass walls, while Jonah battled the workload closing in on him before the Christmas break. Good news came in the form of a contract for the La Glo project. Bad news came from Carl who’d be off work for a week, and Nico, who was currently crawling under Jonah’s desk, trying to fix the shaky Internet connection.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” he said from somewhere near Jonah’s feet. “That Russian guy said it’s the VPN, but I’ve checked all that. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“That Russian guy has a name,” Jonah said absently, immersed in the legal documentation from the La Glo project. “And why do you need him to tell you what’s wrong anyway? You’re the IT person around here.”
“Not by choice. I’m the digital content director. I do this stuff as a favour, remember? Because we ran out of budget for someone who actually knows what they’re talking about.”
Damn. Nico was right, but his information was two years out of date. FG could well afford to fill the role Nico was floundering in, Jonah had simply forgotten to do anything about it. “Okay, scratch everything I just said. You’re doing amazing work considering it’s not your job. I’ll send a hire request to Rochelle this afternoon. I’m sorry, Nico.”
Nico grunted. “What’s with you and the Russian dude anyway?”
“Sacha.”
“What?”
“Sacha. That’s his name.”
“Okay. Sacha then. I heard he was a moody fuck, but he seemed pretty chill when he was with you.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. I mean, he still glares like a serial killer, but I didn’t get vibes that he wanted to, like, actually murder anyone.”
Contracts forgotten, Jonah pushed his chair back and stooped to glower at Nico’s bent knees. “He doesn’t glare.”
Nico snorted. “If you say so, boss. I won’t ask how you know.”
“Don’t.” Jonah didn’t much care if Nico had put two and two together and come up with the right number. There were any number of FG staff who might’ve seen him with Sacha when they’d come to Carl’s aid. But he could only speak for himself, and he had no clue where Sacha stood on the matter.
Jonah didn’t know much about him at all.
That’s not true. You know he drinks black coffee and likes cold showers. That he picks olives off his pizza and drinks vodka with ice. And there were other things too—that he liked sucking Jonah’s cock, and fucking him from behind. That he groaned deeply and shuddered when he came.
Nothing important, though, save the fact his mother was dead and he didn’t like most people.
Jonah straightened up and fished his phone from his pocket. It had been fourteen hours since Sacha had left his apartment, and he’d resisted reaching out, taking Sacha at his word that he sometimes preferred his own company, but the silence gnawed at him.
Jonah: it was real, you know…the invite to my parents’ place for Christmas
It wasn’t what he’d meant to type, but he sent it anyway, firing it off into the ether before he could take it back.
Maybe Sacha wouldn’t answer, especially if he was as busy as the rest of the Blutecc team seemed to be. For all FG liked to rib them, no one could fault their work ethic.
Jonah’s phone buzzed, startling him back to the present.
Ivanov: I know it was real. Your mother said so.
Jonah: I didn’t mean her.
Ivanov: What did you mean?
Now there was a question. How had they gone from a bizarre lift encounter to a fake relationship Jonah was now imagining could be real?
It’s not real. And he doesn’t want it to be. It’s just sex.
Amazing sex. Mind-blowing sex. The kind that stayed with Jonah long after it was over.
He let his thumbs fly free over his phone screen again.
Jonah: She thinks you’re my boyfriend