A heart attack.
While masturbating. Right after being threatened.
Was way too convenient.
Ansel didn't believe for a second that it was natural.
Someone had framed Lance. This wasn't a coincidence; it was a deliberate act.
And that thought made something cold coil in his chest.
Lance was his.
His alone to touch, to control, to humiliate if he chose.
No one else had the right to see him like that.
No one else had the right to ruin him.
The car rolled through iron gates and into the driveway of a massive villa surrounded by a well manicured garden.
Even as the engine cut off, Lance didn't stir. Worse—he still hadn't let go of Ansel's hand.
Ansel hesitated for a moment, then leaned over and slipped an arm beneath Lance's knees and back.
He carried him.
The front door opened immediately. A maid bowed deeply.
"Take this.." Ansel said, tossing Lance's duffel bag toward her without breaking stride. "Put it in the room next to mine."
"Yes, sir."
