Facade

Scott and Ally.” Nicky nodded against Jonas’s shoulder.
    “Sleeping with men is still my job, Nicky, that hasn’t changed.”
    “But Scott and Ally don’t pay you,” Nicky said, looking up at Jonas.
    Jonas cocked his head. “True.”
    “I think I’m jealous,” Nicky said, only half-joking.

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    “I won’t be a kept man, Nicky. I want to have my own money and my independence and that means I still see my clients.”
    “And Eduardo knew about this too?”
    Jonas nodded. “Yes, he did.”
    “I don’t know if I can deal with that,” Nicky stated blankly.
    Jonas pulled away from him and went back to sit on his chair.
    “Then I guess we’re through.”
    Nicky didn’t answer.
    “I’ll ask Ally to get you something to drink and make you comfortable for the night. Then tomorrow you either go to the hospital to get your injuries looked at or you go home to Paris. It’s up to you; I won’t interfere anymore.” He took one more look at Nicky and then walked out and upstairs to his bedroom.

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    Zahra
    Owens

    THE voicemail message he got a few weeks later was both very straightforward and a little cryptic.
    In any case, it made Jonas uneasy.

    Hi Jonas, it’s me, Nicky.
    I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but I want to be that selfish prick one more time and ask you to meet me at Les petits parapluies in the Quartier Latin in Paris. It’s a small
    restaurant that will look closed on
    Monday, but you can come in through
    the garden gate and there will be a table set for you in the Jardin Secret.
    I want to explain a few things to you and I can’t do it over the phone. Please at least give me the chance. One evening.
    Next Monday at nine p.m. It’s the only restaurant by that name in Paris so it should be easy to find.

    Nicky’s voice sounded hesitant, almost shy, but above all, terribly insecure. Jonas had promised himself he would forget all about the eccentric fashion designer, but since he hadn’t even come Façade
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    close to succeeding he decided that the least he could do was talk things over with Nicky. Maybe that way they could both find closure. Or something more , his heart told him.
    No, Nicky wasn’t even his type. Oh, who was he kidding?
    Even thinking about Nicky made lust boil up inside him. He just didn’t know whether his heart could take much more. Besides, how many more ways could the young man tell him that he wasn’t interested? On the other hand, Nicky was reaching out to him now.
    And what did Nicky need to explain to him? That he had been jealous of Eduardo? That was plain as daylight. Nicky had been right to be, too.
    Letting go of Eduardo had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, simply because he hadn’t been able to make a clean break. They had continued to see each other despite their break-up and Eduardo moving out of Jonas’s Madrid house.
    It wasn’t until Nicky had stolen Jonas’s heart that Jonas had been able to tell Eduardo to leave him alone, but even that hadn’t gone smoothly.
    Maybe Nicky wanted to explain about himself, about his dual personality, the over-the-top, spoiled rotten child of a fashion designer and quiet, shy, hesitant private persona, but Jonas knew there was no need. After all, who knew more about not showing your true colors in public than he did?
    Did he want to try to persuade Jonas to give up his clients?
    Maybe, but if he didn’t give the young man a chance he’d never know.

    MONDAY night in Paris in September was a typically balmy night, and Jonas had worn a jacket over a light shirt and thin cotton pants.
    He had no qualms about choosing comfort over style, even while on a date—no, a meeting —with a renowned fashion designer.

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    He was uncharacteristically nervous, though, as he approached the restaurant. Yes, Nicky had made the first move, but he had just as much to apologize for as Nicky did.
    Like the voicemail message had said, the restaurant was dark inside. There was a narrow passage next to the quaint house that Jonas hoped would lead to the secret garden. When he opened the creaking wooden door, small candles placed at regular intervals on the floor lit the way.
    Yes, this had to be it. The passage opened up into a courtyard, cordoned off by bushes and trees. There were potted plants all over, and Jonas counted about five tables for two, all of them a nice distance from each other to secure privacy. One of the tables was in a corner and