He pulled it out of his pocket, grimaced, and turned it over on the table to stop the sound.

Cole ate the bite that had been cooling on his fork.

The phone started ringing again, buzzing along the surface of the table.

Gideon pressed the power button to silence it again.

Less than ten seconds later, it rang. Cole paused in the middle of taking a sip of his wine. Gideon cursed under his breath and picked up the call this time, jamming the phone angrily against his ear.

"What?" he barked. "No, I'm busy....no I can't. I said I'm busy...listen, I'm not just some..." he sighed as the person on the other end raised their voice and talked over him. There were only a few people on the planet who could talk over him like that, and none of them were good. "Right. Well, no promises. It's not as if I'm going to be in a very good mood when I arrive, so..." He pressed his lips together. "That's just too bad."

He hung up and rubbed a hand over his face.

Slowly, Cole lowered the glass.

"My mother," Gideon explained. "There is an...issue. She needs my help resolving it."

"I thought your mother was the most capable person in the world," Cole quipped. "So capable, she can step in and solve everyone's problems for them."

"She's pretty ruthless, but it's better if I handle this situation. Certain things have changed in the organization in the past few years and her methods can be a bit...outdated."

"Right," Cole nodded. "So you have to go?" The way Gideon's lips curved into a grimace meant yes. "Do you want me to box up your food and bring it home?"

"If you could," Gideon was already standing, yanking at his collar as if it were too tight even though he wasn't wearing a tie and the first few buttons were undone. He set the keys on the table. "I'm going to take the Audi, so I'll call someone to pick you up."

"Okay," Cole did his best to smile reassuringly, to show he wasn't upset Gideon had to leave in the middle of dinner, although he was a little upset. "I'll see you when you get home."

Gideon hummed and leaned down to kiss him, then left.

Cole pouted at the wine and the food and the empty room. He was happy, but sometimes he thought he'd rather eat marinara sauce out of a jar with spaghetti they made at home if it meant they could eat it together without worrying about all of the other stuff. And he felt bad for Gideon, who could never relax. But that didn't fit with his plan to convince Gideon that he wasn't going to leave him because he wasn't a fan of the life he led.

Their celebration dinner had been cut short. Gideon would probably eat his leftovers standing in the kitchen well after midnight tonight before coming to bed or something equally depressing. What was the point of all his power if he couldn't even sit all the way through dinner with his husband? Obligation and the need to control everything were truly two terrifying masters.

The waitress swanned in with her wild hair and big, genuine eyes. She was still smiling widely, but now it was tinged with sympathy. "Are you finished too, honey? Want me to box this up for you?"

Cole could eat more, but he didn't want to, so he nodded.

"Of course, sweetie," she picked up their half-finished food. "You want a coffee before you go or anything?"

"Yes please. Is there room at the coffee bar?"

The espresso machine had its own little bar right by the door that, as far as Cole knew, was open all day, even when the dining room was still closed. It would be better to wait for his driver there. He didn't like sitting in the private dining room all by himself, surrounded by the used dishes, knowing the staff was waiting for him to go so they could clean up.

"Sure thing," the waitress said without even thinking about it. "Go on up front."

Either there really was nobody drinking espresso at six in the evening or she was going to make sure there was a spot for him, just like they made sure there was a private dining area for Gideon. By now Cole accepted that it was easier just to let people bend over backwards when they were already dead-set on doing so rather than make everyone uncomfortable by trying to turn down their special treatment.

While the machine worked its magic, he talked to her about Andre learning to do latte art and she took that as an invitation to do her best so he could take a picture and show him. To Cole's astonishment, she created a swan with the foam. Her hands moved with the practiced ease of someone who did this so often she no longer had to think about the movements. Andre was going to be amazed. His ferns and hearts were pretty good, but this was a whole different level.

"Hey, that's pretty good," a voice from behind Cole's shoulder said. He looked back, expecting to find a driver, only to see someone who was definitely not a chauffeur. The ones employed by Gideon always wore at least semi-formal attire. If they weren't wearing a tie, they were at least in a sports coat. This guy was wearing a breezy linen button down and baby blue shorts.

He pushed a pair of sunglasses up on his head and smiled at Cole, even though he was talking to the waitress. "Can I get one to?"

"Sure thing, honey," she said.

Then the man slid onto the seat next to Cole, never breaking eye contact.

Great. If they'd been in a bar or a club, this would have been expected. Cole was well aware of the vibe he put off. It was just how he was, and spending years branding himself as smaller, more feminine, a bottom, submissive, and whatever else to draw in clientele, had only emphasized it. But he was just trying to enjoy some coffee while moping about how busy his poor husband was, not trying to invite anything.

He broke eye contact and looked back down at his coffee.

"Anton Halmici."

Shock bolted through Cole's veins. Gideon didn't tell him much, but he'd picked up on a few tidbits. During the whole debacle with James, the rival that he'd involved to help kill his family had been the Halmici. And since then, they'd been causing more and more trouble.

He debated whether to keep staring at the swan latte art or look back over. Maybe it was just a coincidence. So he should just play it cool and act like that name meant nothing to him. But, who just introduced themselves like that without even a pickup line?

"And you're Nikki Barta."

He hadn't been Nikki for exactly as long as he had been a Barta. The combination of his stripper name and his new last name was so startling that he didn't even have to pretend not to recognize it. His nose wrinkled before his brain caught up with the implication that this man definitely knew who he was, and he played it off by saying, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong guy."

Anton pressed his lips together and hummed. "Nah, I don't think I do."

Really Cole should be trying to think of ways to extricate himself from this conversation before it turned into something he couldn't handle. But his mind kept getting stuck on how odd Nikki Barta sounded. Where was this guy getting his information from that he thought Cole went by Nikki? The fucking priest who'd married them using that name?

People at the club knew he was whisked away by a wealthy client, but not too many of them had known he was a Barta. And the ones who did were close to him—Elijah, Alexis, and a few other dancers who he'd kept in contact with. They wouldn't just tell some random guy about him. Hopefully they were okay.

A phone blocked his latte and he found himself blinking down at a picture of him and Gideon getting into the Jag. He couldn't tell where they were or how long ago the picture had been taken, but it looked like something out of a tv show where the cops took long-distance photos from surveillance vehicles across the street. A chill raced up his spine.

"See, that's you, right? Not mistaken."

Before he could claim that the man in the picture was a pretty close doppelganger, a polite voice from behind them asked, "Are you ready to go, Mr. Barta."

Cole closed his eyes with a sigh.

It did not matter if his identity was confirmed, he supposed. This Halmici person seemed pretty confident already. He probably even saw Gideon leaving the restaurant earlier, coming out of the same room that Cole later emerged from. At least now his ride was here and he could escape the conversation.

"Sure," Cole slid off his seat, pouting that he hadn't gotten to enjoy the latte.

The waitress glanced back from preparing the Halmici guy's coffee and gave Cole a wink. "Hubby already took care of the bill."

He smiled, hoping it didn't come across too strained. "Thanks."

Before he could turn to make his escape, though, a hand landed on his arm. He looked down at the offending touch in shock, then slowly at the man it was attached to.

"Listen," the Halmici guy said in a low voice, looking up through his lashes since he was keeping his mouth down like he was trying not to draw attention to what he was saying. The fact that he was touching Cole pretty much drew attention anyway, though, so Cole wasn't sure why he bothered. "I just wanted to introduce myself and say...the Bartas aren't your only option. I know how you got involved with them and I know it wasn't voluntary. They aren't all powerful though. If you need help, call me."

He offered a business card pinched between two fingers.

Cole never took his eyes off Anton's face. He didn't acknowledge the card. Slowly, he took a step back, pulling his arm away from Anton's grip.

"I think you need to check your sources," he said. "You don't even know my name, let alone my situation." Then he spun and started walking out of the restaurant. The last thing he saw was Anton opening his mouth again, but he didn't hear what he said. Blood was starting to rush to his head, sending the ground out beneath his feet and making his hands shake.

Thankfully, the astute driver, someone he unfortunately didn't recognize, swiftly overtook him to open the door to the car so he could seamlessly slide into the backseat and freak out behind tinted windows.