
Max had said it like it was nothing.
It was a Tuesday. Rain tapping against the windows of his Monaco apartment. Carlos was halfway out the door after staying over for dinner...pasta, because Max refused to admit he liked how Carlos made it better than any restaurant...and Max had jingled something in his hand.
“Here.”
Carlos turned. “What’s that?”
“Spare key.” Max shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “In case of emergencies.”
Carlos blinked. “Emergencies?”




















Write a comment ...