Instead of heading for the recreation center where the tennis courts were, Barry drove over to the lake with its sparkling central fountain and resident white geese. There he dropped him off at the spa. As Barry opened the door for him to step outside, he wondered if this had been Gideon's original plan or a last-minute change.

They'd come here together, but the most Gideon did was don swim trunks to sit in the steam room and sip cucumber water while waiting for Cole's massage to end. He didn't like others to touch his body in any capacity, even just a massage.

Cole, on the other hand, adored it. The first time laying down on the massage table, he'd been nervous as hell, afraid that having a stranger's hands all over him would jog unpleasant memories. But he resolved not to let unpleasant memories follow him into the present. In the end, the touch had been so different that he never once thought of his clients from back in the day.

Whether or not Gideon had planned this from the beginning, a day at the spa was definitely killing two birds with one stone. It made Cole happy. And it helped Gideon to temper his anxiety by letting him feel in control of Cole's pleasure without the pressure of having to be a responsible dominant in the bedroom while his own mood was out of whack.

Another part of his campaign to make Cole forget that he was actually a scary person, not just some accountant with a wild alternate dominant personality in the bedroom, was by never having sex with him when his mood was out of whack. This was something Cole actually appreciated. And he told Gideon that. He made sure to emphasize how much it made him feel like he could trust Gideon.

Cole adjusted his hold on the garment bag as he walked through the sleek sliding doors into the cool, fragrant lobby. The decor was understated, with lots of low lighting behind wooden panels, sticks diffusing essential oils, and displays of skincare products for sale. The girl behind the desk wore her hair slicked back in a sleek ponytail and when she smiled at him, it was with perfectly over-lined taupe lips.

"Good morning, Mr. Barta," she said warmly.

He peeked at her brassy little nameplate and greeted back, "Good Morning, Angie."

She didn't even look down at her computer before continuing, "Looks like we have you booked for a Bliss Package today?"

Cole had no clue what the hell a bliss package was, but it sounded lovely. Gideon had told him not to worry about anything, to just relax and enjoy himself, so he nodded and said, "Sounds about right."

She typed something and then a man in a baby blue staff uniform materialized to usher him into the spa. He explained the itinerary, from an hour and a half body melt massage, to an hour long facial, to a mani-pedi, with a lunch somewhere in between. Cole assured him that he'd been here before, so he didn't need to full tour, and was left to his own devices in the changing room.

It was a room full of lockers, but Cole wouldn't ever call it a locker room. His experience with lockers came from school gym, where everyone was adolescent and the amount of body spray in the air should have been classified as a chemical weapon. That and Logan's club, of course, where the lockers were so banged up from years of hyped-up guys roughhousing and fighting that half of them shrieked when you tried to close them, if they shut at all.

These lockers weren't even metal. They were wooden and in perfect order, each with a little pin pad for entering a code to lock everything away. He shed his clothes, stepped into the swim trunks Gideon put into the garment bag for him, and wrapped himself in one of the fluffy robes.

He spent the rest of his day perusing the lotions, drinking cucumber water, and sweating in the steam room between his massages. Other members of the country club or visitors who paid exorbitant non-member prices drifted in and out of the waiting room, hanging out in the little pool and being called back for their massage.

The massage artist was his favorite. He talked almost the entire time, never expecting a response, but keeping Cole from falling into his own head or asleep. He wondered if Gideon requested him since Cole always sang his praises. This time, he spoke in a low, calm tone about the benefits of each part of the massage for lymphatic drainage. Cole didn't give a damn about lymphatic drainage, but his voice was more soothing to listen to than a track of oceans sounds.

When he went in for the facial, they oohed and awed over his complexion to the point that his cheeks grew hot. The esthetician sighed wistfully and admitted that she was jealous of his lashes. He didn't know if the compliment was genuine or if she was only trying to make him feel good, but he certainly left feeling a bit flustered and happy.

By the time he got to the manipedi, Cole felt like he was walking around in someone else's body. He had never felt this relaxed in his entire life. Not even the threat of dinner with the Barta family seemed as terrifying anymore. He was so relaxed that no matter what they threw at him, it would bounce right back off.

He ended up confiding to the nail tech that he was going to have to face his mother-in-law that evening. She also had a mother-in-law who couldn't mind her own business and had a comment about every single aspect of her parenting. The time flew by as Cole sympathized with her and she assured him that no mother-in-law could find issue with a son-in-law like him.

She didn't know that his mother-in-law was Mrs. Barta.

Gideon did not text him until he was rinsing off in the shower before changing into his outfit for dinner.

His phone lit up as he bent to towel off his legs and he smiled when he saw it was a picture of a crystal bar glass with two fingers of whiskey in it. The meeting had ended well, then. Gideon's hand enveloped the glass in a way that Cole's smaller one never could. The sight made his mouth go dry, so he wrapped the towel around his waist and trotted back out to the waiting area to get another cup of cucumber water.

[I can think of something else for you to hold] he texted back.

His phone lit up less than a minute later, as he was halfway through slathering the fancy, woodsy-smelling complimentary lotion all over his body.

[You have to behave tonight]

Cole chuckled and wiped the lotion off his fingers.

[Shouldn't I be reminding you of that?]

Gideon tended to do things like stick Cole's fingers in his mouth or shoot his brother in the head when they were with his family. Cole, on the other hand, had no trouble being on his best behavior. He even picked out a respectable outfit—a pair of slacks that made his ass look great and a satin button down which was not structured enough to be considered formal but at least covered all his skin.

He pulled it out of the garment bag and then rolled his eyes when he saw what else Gideon had thoughtfully included—one of his sets of lacy lingerie. In contrast to the understated colors of his slacks and shirt, which were both black, the lace was bright red. Not the sanguine depth of red roses, but the vibrant scarlet of fire trucks and stoplights. Attention grabbing.

Another guy wandered into the room, towel around his waist and water from a shower still clinging to his shoulders. He didn't spare Cole a glance, but Cole still shifted to hide the lingerie back into the garment bag, the back of his neck warming. He wasn't exactly a shy person when it came to showing skin in proper circumstances—like the strip club or the changing room at the country club. But he wasn't quite shameless enough to slip into this lingerie in front of a complete stranger, who he might see around the club in the future.

He dragged the garment bag into one of the toilet stalls and changed behind the closed door.

It was a lacy bodysuit, actually designed for a man. It lay flat across his chest and hooked to two flat, stretchy lace garters rather than stockings. The crotch was designed so that it trapped his cock beneath the lace unless he pushed it through a slit in the fabric, but his ass was completely exposed. Beneath his clothes, it felt ridiculously scandalous. He could feel the soft silk of his shirt, but only through the scratchy fabric of the lace, making for a completely different, unforgettable sensation.

It was the same as when the cuffs or ropes or belts that Gideon favored for tying him up left marks in his skin. They would feel a bit raw every time his clothes brushed over them. And then he would be reminded of Gideon and what they'd done together, and he'd feel warm and hot and a little flustered.

This was definitely Gideon's attempt at grounding them both for the evening. Giving them a little secret to focus on while sitting at the dinner table, the flames of hell crackling all around. He was good at playing little psychological tricks like this. Cole would be wrapped completely in his embrace beneath his clothes. Then Gideon could glance at him, imagine the lace hugging Cole's body by his request, and feel a little more in control.

Outside, Barry waited by the car. The late afternoon sun glinted off his sunglasses as he turned his head to watch Cole trot across the wide entryway toward him.

"Are the roses okay?" he asked, as he handed the garment bag over.

"The majority of them have been relocated to a proper home," Barry informed him, whatever that meant. Then he opened the door.

"Gideon," Cole cried in delight, clambering into the seat next to his husband. All the roses, save one bouquet, were gone, though their scent still lingered. In their place sat a very handsome man, dressed in a neat business suit, silver tie-clip and cuff links and all. Gideon had his hair slicked back from work and looked extraordinarily perfect except for the five o'clock shadow that was inevitable with how thick and dark his beard was. Long dark lashes framed his blue eyes.

Cole was treated to the sight of his broad hand wrapped around a whiskey glass in person.

He decided that sitting next to Gideon was not good enough, so he plucked the glass and phone out of his hands and threw a leg over his lap to straddle him.

"Cole," Gideon rumbled.

The door shut, cutting off the ambient sounds of the fountain and geese and golf carts somewhere nearby.

Cole tossed aside Gideon's phone and swirled the whiskey in the glass. "Already drinking?"

"You would be too if you just sat through a seven-hour long meeting."

He could only imagine and did not really want to. "Well don't let loose quite yet." The car started moving, lush greenery of magazine-perfect lawns and edges sliding by outside the tinted windows.

"Aren't you worried I'll be wound too tight?"

"Hmm," Cole sniffed the glass's contents, then wrinkled his nose. It was some kind of peated scotch. He'd been around Gideon long enough to start recognizing whether a scotch was peated or not by smell alone. He'd also learned that he wasn't particularly fond of scotch, so he had to toss out the idea of throwing back Gideon's drink as a tease. An even better idea, he decided, was to cup Gideon's jaw and tilt his face up like he was going to kiss him but instead touch the glass to his lips.