Next Morning – Kinnetik

Brian sighed as he took another sip of coffee from his mug; he had been gazing at the current campaign pitch for Swanson Electronics on his laptop for at least the past fifteen minutes now with no inspiration forthcoming as to what the text should read for their upcoming sales meeting with the company's founder and president. To make matters worse, the current graphics supplied by the Art Department were dull and listless; hardly the proper slant for an up-and-coming, trendy electronics firm. If he could somehow obtain this account – which had been held by a rival competitor ever since the company had been born literally out of the founder's basement a few years ago – it would be the biggest client he had ever obtained, either presently or with his past employer. More importantly, it might also mean the end of Robert's blackmail of him, and their sham of a marriage he was distinctly dreading.

So was that the reason why he was having so much difficulty figuring out how to best woo this client under his wing? He had never been intimidated by a challenge in either his personal OR his professional life before – rather, he thrived on them, fed off them, because it always made him stronger in the long run. Being under pressure or under a deadline, or going after something – or someone he really wanted – normally made him even MORE on top of his game. So why was he having problems with THIS particular situation?

He knew the reason why, he silently lamented as he brushed one hand errantly through his hair in frustration. Because before now, it had all been the same – the thrill of the hunt, the triumph of the prey's surrender, the rush of confidence and the smug satisfaction that came from the power he held over the situation that arose or the person he was dealing with. This time…it was different. Different because of who was involved, and what success with this account would mean for him – the chance to not only get Robert off his back once and for all, but a chance to capture the elusive Justin Taylor, body and soul.

The silent mention of the man's name instantly brought all sorts of emotions swirling through his body – want, desire, frustration, curiosity, and even – yes, he had to admit it – caring. Who would have fucking thought that Brian Kinney would actually care about someone else, other than how fast he could conquer him? But as much as it pained him to admit it – he DID care. He realized that with startling clarity yesterday when he saw Taylor with that smartass "friend" of his that was practically swooning all over him. The inexplicable pangs of yet another emotion he previously had never dared admit to – jealousy – had risen to the surface immediately as he noticed the comfortable, easygoing interaction between the two, and more ominously, the way that Alvarez' hand had been almost protectively and territorially covered Justin's. Just who did that man think he was?

The only consolation in the entire matter was that the man was apparently only in town for a few days' visit; he should be crawling back into whatever hole he emerged from shortly. Once he was gone, then, Brian could concentrate a little more diligently on his most-desired "project." For now, however, he had to figure out a way to convince Swanson Electronics' bigwigs that Kinnetik was the best, the only choice, for their advertising campaigns. Only by coming out victorious could he hope to pry Robert's clammy hands from his neck and be released from the vise that was currently surrounding him.

He picked up his desk phone and quickly punched in a single digit. "Yes, Brian?"

"Cynthia, tell the Crayola twins to get in here ASAP!" he growled; his current predicament had not done anything to tame his foul mood, but it HAD served to bolster his determination to overcome the current creative block he was experiencing. The artwork currently peering back at him on the screen, however, did not do anything to inspire his imagination. "And tell them they'd better not plan on taking a fucking lunch anytime soon!"

"Got it," Cynthia told him, quickly hanging up the phone to dial the Art Department. She grimaced; someone was in a nasty mood today, and something told her it somehow had to do with her boss's fiancé. The man simply rubbed her the wrong way, and she had a feeling Brian felt that way, too. He was attractive enough, she supposed, in a Bohemian sort of way. But he never let anyone forget how successful he was, and what a prize he had caught when Brian had agreed to marry him. Once again, she pondered why in the hell someone as devastatingly handsome and intelligent as her boss would ever agree to marry the likes of Chagall; he could do so much better than him.

As she picked up her phone to advise the two employees to report to Brian ASAP, she found herself fervently hoping that soon, Brian would come to his senses and remove the pompous splinter known as Robert Chagall from his finger forever.

Hanging up the phone shortly afterward, she mused about the adorable blond wedding planner that had visited Brian earlier in the week. She sighed to herself; now that man seemed more like Brian's style – he seemed to be quite a bit younger than Brian, but he was beautiful and polite, as well as mannered – the total opposite of Chagall. Why couldn't Brian be attracted to someone like him instead? She shook her head in puzzlement; it wasn't her place, unfortunately, to point out what a big mistake Brian was about to make by marrying this other man. But that still didn't stop her from hoping that he would come to his senses soon before it was too late.

Same Time – Justin's Second-Floor Apartment Over the Store

Justin wrinkled his nose as he sniffed; something smelled good – really good. As in bacon frying sort of good. He slowly opened his eyes as he heard the familiar sound of sizzling on the stove. Yep, his nose never failed him – it WAS bacon frying. It took him a few seconds, though, to realize how that was possible. He smiled as he remember that Nico had spent the night on his couch last night, and he was now apparently issuing his own form of a thank you by cooking breakfast for him. Grateful for the man's thoughtfulness, he slowly stretched his hands above his head before rising to a sitting position. Twisting his body around to place his feet on the cold floor and clad in briefs and his pajama bottom, he slowly walked toward the nearby bathroom to relieve himself and take a quick shower.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, cotton t-shirt, he walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the small kitchen at the other end of the apartment. Justin had been thrilled, as well as relieved, to find out that the Victorian house he had rented for his business also came with a small, one-bedroom apartment upstairs, complete with bathroom, eat-in kitchen, bedroom, and a small living area. It wasn't very spacious, but for his needs, it was more than sufficient. After all, he had been spending most of his time working during the day and even into most evenings downstairs for his job, trying to get it off the ground. This apartment was normally just a place where he could crash for the night and get some sleep. At the moment, though, it also served as temporary accomodations for his friend, who had commandeered his somewhat worn couch last night after an evening of hitting some of the local watering holes together and playing some pool or throwing darts in between rounds of beer.

Justin had been reluctant to break away from his business, but Nico had insisted, telling him that he would wear himself out if he didn't take at least a little time away from his wedding planning. He was glad now that Nico had insisted, because just getting away from his troubles, at least for a short while, had been very cathartic for him. He and Nico always had fun when they were together – they had a lot in common, having both struggled to get their respective businesses off the ground, both being artists, and both having a lot of the same interests. He smiled as he thought of his crazy friend who had been with him through good times as well as bad. He could have done a lot worse for a best friend, and he had actually had a great time last night. The restful sleep he had managed to get last night, too, had helped enormously; his worries and stress seemed to have diminished somewhat, at least for now.

"Hey, Your Highness, I was just about to summon the Royal Food Taster to go in and wake you up," Nico teased him with a smile as he saw his friend coming down the hall. "But I figured the bacon would accomplish the same purpose." He picked up a slice of thick-cut bacon with a pair of silver tongs and dangled it tantalizingly over a plate nearby covered with a paper towel. As Justin smiled back at him, he tried to stifle the admiring glance he quickly engaged in as he noticed the way that Justin's cherry red shirt highlighted his complexion, and how sexy he looked with his still-wet hair plastered haphazardly to his head. The man simply took his breath away, but he didn't dare tell him that – at least not yet. He didn't want to scare Justin away, just as he was trying to work up enough nerve to tell him how he REALLY felt. He turned his gaze back to his skillet as he inhaled a large breath and let it out, trying hard to control his quickly-beating heart.

"You know me too well, Nico," Justin told him as he walked up to stand next to him. "Scrambled eggs, too?" he asked, noticing a large plateful of the fluffy food. "You're going to spoil me here – I may never let you go back now, you know," he kidded his friend. He knew Nico could only stay until late Sunday night, but he could get used to this indulgence.

Nico smiled but did not turn to look Justin in the eyes; he was afraid if he did, he would surely give his true feelings away. The timing had to be just right here – one misstep and he was sure he would spook his friend, and this was just too important – it was THE most important thing in his life right now. Justin was his world.

That was why all of a sudden, though, he was feeling a need to push his timeline up. It was all because of that Kinney person – Justin may not have noticed the way he was looking at him yesterday, and his friend may not reciprocate the same feelings toward the starkly-handsome other man, but HE had noticed. That man may be engaged to be married, and Justin may be his wedding planner, but there was no doubt that Kinney wanted him. It was obvious in the way his eyes practically bored into Justin's and the way he stared so intensely at him. And it was also in the daggers he was shooting at HIM – obvious signs of resentment and jealousy over his spending time with his best friend. Well, he wasn't going to let Justin be used and then discarded like some musty, overused dishrag; his friend deserved much more than that, and he was just the one to provide it to him.

He cleared his throat, all too cognizant of Justin's body so close to him. How he longed at that moment to turn the man around in his embrace and kiss him senseless. But he sensed that he had to go slow with Justin – make him realize how good they could be together, and how their close friendship could be the basis of so much more, something wonderful. He would have all day today to formulate his plan; tomorrow before he left, he would put it into action. "Uh….could you set the table for me?" he asked.

"Sure," Justin agreed, smiling. "I figure that's the least Royalty can do in repayment of such a feast. You want juice, coffee, or me?" he kidded. "Never mind – I think it's coffee, TEA, or me instead, and I know you hate tea."

I'll take YOU any day, Nico couldn't help thinking as he answered out loud, "Coffee and juice, I think. This sort of spread deserves both."

Justin nodded in agreement as he walked over a few feet to open up the top cupboard and take out a set of plates, mugs and glasses. He placed them down on the counter and walked over to the refrigerator to retrieve a carton of orange juice as Nico finished up frying the bacon.

A few minutes later, the two friends sat down for their breakfast. "Yum," Justin commented, as he scooped a large bite of the scrambled eggs into his mouth and chomped down on the crispy bacon. "You always could fry a mean slice of bacon and do wonders with scrambled eggs, no yolk."

Nico shook his head bemused. "Still cracking those terrible, worn-out jokes, aren't you? You really need to hire a new joke writer, Taylor," he kidded his friend, smiling back at him from across the small dinette table.

Justin shrugged. "Afraid it's all I can afford right now," he told his friend, grinning. "At least until I get my business off the ground a little better." His thoughts automatically strayed to the one wedding that he was currently in charge of planning that might actually do that; the only problem was, it involved a man that was both irresistible as well as extremely dangerous. He HAD to work with Brian – AND his fiancé – if he hoped to successfully pull off their ceremony and reception, but he also knew it was going to be one of the hardest things he had ever done. He had no idea how he would be able to keep his emotional feelings in check while he carried out his business activities for Brian and his fiancé, but he knew he had to, if he hoped to ever break even or ideally make a profit from his business.

"Justin?" He glanced up, startled, as he became aware of Nico staring back at him, apparently waiting for a response. How long had he been sitting there, staring at him? Hopefully, not for long – he would be hard pressed to explain why he had just zoned out on his best friend. "Sorry – what were you saying?"

Nico frowned slightly, hoping that Justin had become distracted simply because he was worrying about his business, and NOT because he had been daydreaming about a certain, sexy brunet. "I was asking you what you wanted to do today while you were squiring me around town," he told his friend, grinning.

Justin smiled back at his friend. "YOU'RE the visitor, Mr. Alvarez – what do YOU want to do?"

Something horizontal fleetingly crossed his mind before he quickly tamped it down. He doesn't mean THAT, Nico reminded himself sternly, thinking quickly of an appropriate answer. "Well, you're the expert here in the Pitts, what do YOU recommend?"

Justin rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly an expert, Nico – I've only been back a few weeks! It's supposed to be a fairly warm day, though – how about doing something outdoors?"

Nico nodded. Truthfully, anything sounded good to him, as long as Justin was along for the ride. "Sounds good." He considered what might be a good activity for them. "How about some tennis? I seem to recall you were pretty good at that."

"I don't know," Justin told him warily, stabbing another bite of egg and plopping it in his mouth before chewing and swallowing it. "It's been quite a while since I played. I probably suck at it by now."

"All the better," Nico kidded him. "That way I might actually have a shot at coming out on top of our bet."

"Bet?"

"Yeah, whoever loses has to buy the other man's lunch."

Justin snorted. "Oh, really? That sure of yourself, are you?" As Nico smiled and raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge, he decided. "Okay, Mr. So Sure of Yourself – you're on."

Nico laughed as he stood up from the table and picked up his now-empty plate. "I think I'm in the mood for a nice, juicy, expensive steak," he confided, ducking as Justin threw a spoon at him in response. "Hey! No fair aiming at my serving arm, Blondie!" he growled in mock anger. "You're just scared I'm going to win."

Justin stood up, mimicking the other man's actions as he, too, picked up his plate and set it in the sink. "Well, we'll just SEE about that, Alvarez. We'll just see….."

As Justin walked back toward the bedroom to change into a short-sleeved shirt to replace the one he had donned earlier, Nico gazed at his friend's retreating form. He knew that tomorrow before he left, he would be wearing his heart on his sleeve. But for today, he was going to concentrate, instead, on enjoying his friend's presence immensely and hopefully help find some way to draw Justin closer to him in hopes that tomorrow, he would be receiving the answer he so fervently wished for.

Three Hours Later – Langford Chop House

"Yeah, I'll have the prime rib with a baked potato and the side Caesar salad," Nico advised the waitress. "And don't forget us later – I have a feeling I'll be craving dessert, too."

The woman nodded as she jotted down the second order. "I'll get your drinks and bread right out to you," she advised them. As she turned to leave, Nico smirked at his friend and smiled at him smugly.

Justin squirmed somewhat uncomfortably in his padded, wooden seat; his legs was aching from the exertion on the tennis court. "You don't have to look so self-satisfied, you asshole," he muttered. "You just took advantage of my being rusty and got lucky, that's all."

Nico laughed. "Three games out of five? I don't think so, Taylor. I'm just more athletic than you, admit it."

"I'm admitting nothing," Justin declared adamantly from his place across the booth from his friend. "Especially not until this lunch is over. I can tell it's already going to cost me enough money – I don't want to inflame the situation any further. Dessert, too? Aren't you just taking just a wee bit of advantage here?"

Nico smiled, instantly responding, "Of course I am! What kind of conceited man would I be if I didn't?

Justin couldn't help the grin that spread over his face at his friend's playful bantering. God, it felt good to laugh for a change and to be away from the melodrama that seemed to be Justin Taylor, This is Your Life lately. At that moment, he found himself so grateful for his friend's decision to come down for a visit. Nico could manage to cheer him up when no else seemed to be able to. "All right, all right – I give up," he conceded. "Steak AND dessert, then; but be prepared to eat crow the next time we play tennis."

"Duly noted, Taylor," Nico replied congenially. "But in the meantime, I'm definitely taking advantage of THIS situation."

An hour later, Nico stretched his arms up over his head and groaned, "I am so fucking stuffed! Why did I let you talk me into all that food?"

"Very funny, asshole," Justin responded as he put the final bite of his fried shrimp into his mouth. He had opted not to get dessert, as much as he loved it. Not only did he know that he, too, would have felt bloated from the over extravagance, but he also knew his budget would be even more blown than it was already. Nico had actually offered to forget the bet and pay for his own meal, but Justin would have none of it. They had wagered a bet and he would honor it. That didn't mean, though, that he wouldn't be forced to eat Ramen noodles for the next week to make up for it. He was too proud to let his friend know how tight his money was at the moment, however, and besides, hopefully he would be getting his first installment payment for the Kinney-Chagall nuptials soon.

At the thought of that particular assignment, Justin couldn't help thinking about Brian again. Damn the man – he couldn't get him out of his mind, no matter HOW hard he tried. He was one of the most exasperating men he had ever met – overly-confident, brash and sarcastic, and yes, also arrogant at times. But he thought he also saw hints of vulnerability in him, along with his confidence, assertiveness, and creative genius. Were those qualities necessarily bad, though? Was it wrong to know you were good at what you did and excel at it? No, but Brian managed to let everyone else know about it, too.

Once more, he tried to figure out why in the hell someone like Brian Kinney would willingly choose to marry someone like Chagall. While both were successful businessman in their respective fields, in all other aspects they seemed as different as night and day – two stones; one polished and shiny like an treasured gem, the other one like pyrite – fool's gold. Seemingly well-bred and elegant on the outside, but inside, artificial. Just what sort of hold did this man continue to HAVE on Brian that would cause him to agree to this mismatched farce?

He shook his head as he berated himself. It's none of your business, Taylor. You were hired to do a job – stay out of it before you get yourself in trouble…. He stood up, trying to bring his focus back to the present and to his friend, who was staring at him in puzzlement. "Uh…I have to go to the bathroom," Justin told his friend. "I'll be right back."

As Justin walked away, Nico frowned. In between their playful, competitive game today and their enjoyable conversation, his friend had been clearly preoccupied with something – or was it someone. He pursed his lips in anxiety; could it be that Justin's mind was on a certain brunet today? He supposed he couldn't blame Justin for being attracted to the sexy executive, but then again, who wouldn't be? At least from an outward perspective, anyone could see how handsome he was. When God had handed out physical attributes, this man had been awarded the grand prize. But just because he was stunning on the outside didn't mean it had permeated to the inside; far from it, in his opinion.

Justin deserved to be treated with respect and cherished – not handed over to a man for a one-time use as his plaything. Well, Kinney after tomorrow hopefully you - AND I - won't have to worry about it. He knew he could make Justin see who the best choice would be. He watched Justin turn the corner toward the restrooms before he reached in his pocket to take out the small box he had been carrying around protectively since his arrival in Pittsburgh. He flipped open the lid to make sure the shiny, gleaming gold chain with the wedding ring hanging from it was still nestled inside. If all goes according to his plan tomorrow, Justin would be wearing both of them by the time he left. And in short order, the ring would be encircling his fiancé's finger as they got married. He smiled at the wonderful vision in his head and gently closed the top before placing it securely back in his pocket.

Justin sighed as he came out of the bathroom; as he had been taking a piss, a rather tall, dark-haired man had walked in to do the same. Their eyes met briefly for a couple of seconds as they stood next to each other, but it was long enough for Justin to inexplicably wish that it had been someone else instead. He had quickly zipped his pants up and ran his hands under the faucet in a rush to get away from the stranger that had caused his heart to race simply over the thought that it might have been Brian. Get a hold of yourself, Taylor! Quit obsessing over a man you can't have‼ he chided himself.

As he walked out of the bathroom, however, his glance fell upon a nearby ledge that held a stack of Out and About, Pittsburgh's free gay newspaper that detailed social events and profiles of newsworthy citizens. His eyes widened as they fell upon a large, color photo on the front page of the paper – it was a picture of Brian with Chagall at some social gathering, holding hands as their other hands held a glass of champagne while they raised their arms in some sort of apparent toast. They were standing, facing each other, gazing into each other's eyes as they smiled.

Justin's eyes darkened as he stood there, his mouth agape. He could feel bile rise in his throat and his stomach churning with both jealousy and disgust as he digested the image that seemed to show two engaged men in love. It was sickening, especially the way that Chagall was staring at Brian as if he were a prize at one of the game booths at the county fair. Brian's expression didn't appear to be so lovey-dovey as his fiancé's, but it seemed convincing enough. Either the man was a consummate actor or Justin had been wrong – the man really did love Chagall. They always say that opposites attract – well if that was true in this case, then they must be deliriously in love. Perhaps he had been wrong after all, and Brian really WAS only interested in treating him like a mouse to be toyed with and promptly discarded. Well, it didn't matter; at that moment, he resolved to carry out what he had told himself he needed to do from the outset – do his job and stay out of the other man's personal life. It was Brian's life to fuck up or not – and his choice, right or wrong, to make.

As he returned to the booth, he tried his best to put on one of his most convincing smiles to his friend, who smiled at him amicably enough in return. At his friend's slight look of curosity, Justin really did smile at him in reassurance – he was grateful that Nico had his back; that he would support him no matter what he did. They had been friends for so long – longer than he had had a relationship with anyone, except for his family – and he was very thankful that their friendship had endured through good times as well as bad.

As Justin sat back down, Nico told him, "Thank goodness. For a minute there, I was afraid you were going to sneak out the back and stiff me with the bill. I didn't realize they hadn't brought over the check until AFTER you had said you needed to use the restroom."

Justin laughed. "I wish I had thought of that," he admitted. "The look on your face would have been priceless."

Nico smiled at him. "Well, I'm glad you didn't." He reached over and pushed the black, leatherette billfold containing their bill toward his friend. "Don't want to deprive you of the pleasure, Mr. Taylor, and MY vindication as the greatest tennis player since Pete Sampras."

Justin snorted as he opened up the billfold and took out the bill. "You wish, Alvarez! How many times do I have to tell you that you just caught a lucky break?" He laughed at his friend's seeming resentment about his athletic prowess as he reached in to retrieve his wallet and pull out two twenty-dollar bills. "Better hope these counterfeit bills aren't detected, or we'll get to see how good you are at washing dishes."

"Ha, ha," Nico bantered back. "Aren't YOU just a barrel of laughs? How about I leave the tip, though? Don't mess around with the pros, Taylor."

Justin stood up with the check, money in hand, waiting for Nico to plop down some dollars for the tip before he realized he had once more been duped. "You son of a bitch," he growled before grinning back at his friend's innocent expression. Just before he started to reach back in for his wallet, resigned to dishing out even MORE of his hard-earned money, Nico opened up his own billfold and pulled out the money for the tip. Weighing it down under the salt shaker, he scooted out to join his friend. He placed his arm around Justin's shoulders and gave them a brief squeeze as he said, "You're too easy, Taylor."

Both laughing now, the two men walked up toward the front of the restaurant, passing by the now-forgotten stack of newspapers that had caused Justin so much pain before.

Two Hours Later – Kinnetik

Brian placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes; he was giving up. The entire, fucking day had been a major waste of time. The two buffoons previously referred to as members of his art department were now former employees; the revised graphics they had presented him with were a bunch of shit and unworthy of even a third-grade school art show, let alone quality work that could be presented to potentially his most lucrative client to date. How could he ever expect to get his head above water when he was continually being pushed under and left to drown? Surely in all of Pittsburgh there had to be someone who could convert his ideas into a proper visual display. Unfortunately, at the present time they all seemed to be out of his reach.

He closed his laptop in disgust, deciding he had had enough for the day; Monday, he would try and figure out who he could get to replace the two idiots he had just fired, but for now, he needed a bottle of Beam and a warm body to fuck. His thoughts strayed to one sexy, perfectly-proportioned body in particular – a blond with blue eyes that never quit – but he knew at least for the time being that his most wished-for hope wasn't going to happen. For now, then, he would have to make do with the first presentable man he encountered at Woody's.

Grabbing his suit jacket and closing his briefcase, he stood up and was about to put his arm through the sleeve when he discovered his horrid day was about to get even worse.

"There you are," he heard the familiar, unwelcome voice of his "fiancé" saying. He let out a perturbed breath and glanced up to see Cynthia rushing in right behind Robert, a look of apology on her face. "I'm sorry, Brian," she said, her hands out in supplication. "I told him I needed to let you know he was here first, but he insisted." The gall of this unlikely personal partner of her boss never ceased to astound her as she shook her head in disgust. The man was uncouth to the nth degree.

"It's okay, Cynthia," Brian told her. "I understand – believe me. Would you leave us alone?"

She nodded, more than happy as well as relieved to escape from Chagall's presence. As she closed the door softly behind her, she couldn't help hearing Brian's raised voice through the door.

"Robert, how many fucking times do I have to tell you not to show up here unannounced? I'm trying to run a business here, or have you forgotten?"

"How can I? You throw that in my face every fucking chance you get‼ Heaven forbid if you should actually be marrying me because you WANT to, Brian!"

Cynthia stood just outside the door in shock; she knew she shouldn't be snooping, but she couldn't help it. She had been right – Brian apparently really didn't want to marry this snobbish man after all. Then that begged the question – why in the world would he?

She tried to listen further to their conversation, but to her profound disappointment, their voices had lowered enough now that she couldn't make out clearly any more what was being said. Waiting several seconds in hopes that perhaps they would speak louder, she finally sighed in defeat when they did not and slowly turned to head back to her desk, processing that stunning piece of information that Chagall had divulged.

Brian sighed. "Just tell me what the fuck you want, Robert. I've had a for shit day and I'm really not in the mood to argue with you at the moment."

"Well, I didn't exactly come in with that intention, either, you know."

Brian donned his suit jacket and glared back at the man, feeling like a trapped animal in a cage – a steel cage of matrimony. "And I repeat once more, Robert – what the fuck do you want?" Brian was mentally worn out and in no mood to play psychological games with this intrusive boor of a man.

"Well, obviously you've forgotten," Robert retorted.

Brian huffed out an angry, exasperated gush of breath. "Forgotten what, Robert?" he said, talking as if he were speaking to a child. "Spit it out."

Robert glared at him. "The Pittsburgh Restaurant Association's awards dinner tonight? Ring a bell?"

"Shit," Brian muttered; could this day get any fucking worse? He would have dearly loved to tell Robert where he could put the Entrepreneur of the Year Award that his fiancé was due to receive tonight, but he knew he couldn't; when he had grudgingly agreed to play the part of the man's betrothed, he had also promised to show up at the awards banquet as part of their agreement. Robert had been told just the day before their engagement about his prestigious award, and he had been sure to make Brian promise that he would go with him as partial exchange for Robert funding Kinnetik. Now, it seemed he was stuck. He sighed. "What time does it start?" he asked.

"Dinner starts at 8:00, followed immediately afterward by the awards ceremony," Chagall informed him smugly, knowing that Brian had no choice but to attend. "We need to get there at least by 7:30, though, so I can do some sucking up to the CEO of the association. When he hands out restaurant ratings later this year, I want my establishments to be front and center."

Brian bit his lip in resignation; ruing once more the day he had agreed to this dog and pony show. "All right – I'll go home, then, and get ready."

"Well, we might as well go home together; I need to get dressed too, you know," Robert said defensively, insulted that Brian hadn't already figured that out. He knew Brian wasn't too keen on him staying at the loft, but it was necessary so others didn't decipher what exactly was truly going on. Once they got married, they would have to stay at the same place, anyway; Brian might as well get used to it now.

Brian shook his head in consternation. "Whatever, Robert. I'm too tired to argue with you. Why don't you follow me over in your car and then we can take the Jag?" He knew how important image was to his fake fiancé, so he knew the man would much prefer going to the ceremony in his own Jag rather than Brian's older, less expensive 'Vette.

"Okay," Robert agreed; at least Brian wasn't putting up a fight about going. That certainly didn't mean, however, that things were just peachy between them – far from it. But he would hopefully have all evening to try and convince Brian that this arrangement was best for the both of them.

Unbeknowst to Robert, however, as he followed his fiance closely behind, Brian silently vowed to find a way to break the chokehold this man had on him, before he was strangled to death and the man irrevocably crushed whatever independent spirit he had left. Enjoy it while you can, Chagall, he said to himself as he walked out of his office, because if it's the last thing I do, I WILL find a way...