Chapter One

God, what a day.

Elliot hadn't realized quite how much non-architectural work would be involved in running his own firm. It wasn't even like it was a big firm, or anything. Him, two junior architects fresh out of university, and a secretary.

He pulled up into the driveway and took a minute to admire the house. It really was beautiful, if he did say so himself. He chuckled as he got out, grabbing his jacket and his briefcase. It was probably egotistical as hell to love your own work so much, but he did.

Now, if Graham was just in a better mood than when he'd left this morning, his Friday night just might be salvageable.

He let himself in. "Hey, honey, I'm home."

Silence.

Well, that could be good or bad...

He wandered through the living area, the kitchen, where he found a half-full bottle of wine and a shattered glass. He was starting to lean toward not good, and a plan began to form in his mind. The bag was packed and it was late enough they'd have missed the worst of the traffic. An hour and a half and they could be at the cottage.

He headed for the study.

The light was on, Graham sprawled over a chair, score sheets crumpled and torn, tears streaking the lean cheeks even in sleep.

Oh, he didn't think so. Enough was enough. If anything or anyone was going to torture Graham, it was going to be him, and Graham was going to love every fucking second of it.

He turned on his heel and headed for their bedroom, grabbing the black bag from the back of the closet. He didn't need to check it -- it would have everything they needed. Every time they used it he would carefully repack it when they got home again. So it was always ready. He took it out and put it in the trunk of the car.

Heading back in, he called in to his work number and reset his outgoing message to indicate he would be unreachable for the weekend.

Then he went to wake Graham

Continued in First Section