Carson balanced a large tray laden with two plates of food and two empty glasses on one hand, and carried a porcelain pitcher of juice in the other, and set the items on a side table before retreating, leaving the two men in peace.

Kurt regarded Blaine calmly while the bound man glared daggers at him. "I apologize for not meeting with you sooner, Mr. Anderson," he remarked, pleasantly, as if they were on more friendly terms and Blaine were not tied to a chair. "But I had other matters to see to. I trust the room is to your liking?”

Blaine rolled his eyes and Kurt bit back a laugh. Honestly, he couldn’t help having a little fun and making light of the situation, as if Blaine really were his guest and not currently a prisoner. His eyes darted around the rather sparse room and he frowned slightly. “It's not my favorite, to be frank – a little dull on the decoration front – but I just haven't had the time to give it the same attention as some of my other rooms."

Blaine eyed the food with suspicion, his forehead creasing as he frowned. This was a strange form of torture, and he had to wonder what was in the food. "The room is not to my liking. I'm tied to a chair, and I think my arms are gonna fall off."

He dragged his tongue over his dry, chapped lips and shook his head. "Whatever you're trying to achieve here, it's not gonna work. I already told you, I don't know anything about Sebastian's business. He doesn't discuss that kind of stuff with me for exactly this reason."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Sebastian didn't discuss his business with Blaine, but he overheard more than he cared to simply because Sebastian kept him at his side ninety-five percent of the time.

He pressed his lips together; of course, Kurt probably knew that he was bluffing. After all, everybody saw him out with Sebastian practically every night.

"Just because you offer me food doesn't mean I'm telling you anything," he grumbled. He flexed his wrist, testing his bonds, but damn, those goons knew how to tie a good knot.

Dispensing with the pleasantries, Kurt opted for bluntness. "I'm not expecting you to tell me anything yet, but I have every confidence that you will eventually. Everyone knows you're practically glued to Smythe's side, and I'd bet good money they talk around you as if you're not even there." He didn't need to ask to know that was true. "You're probably one of the most valuable people in his little gang, and that makes you valuable to me."

Blaine grimaced, not appreciating Kurt's words one bit. The tendency of Sebastian and his associates to treat Blaine like he was invisible had always grated on his nerves. "Fine, okay. But do you know what Sebastian would do to me if I spilled the beans on anything I heard? It wouldn't be pretty, let me tell you."

Heading to the small food table, Kurt pulled it in front of Blaine and placed a chair for himself on the other side. He knew exactly what Sebastian was capable of, having witnessed that man’s vindictiveness himself, but the food was getting cold and speaking of such things would most likely ruin both their appetites.

"We’ve got plenty of time to discuss that. Right now, it's lunch time, and I imagine you're hungry; I know I am, and Carson had the cook go through all this trouble to make a nice lunch for the both of us." And, sensing Blaine's continued suspicion of the food, Kurt added, "It's not poisoned, I promise."

As the food table was brought closer and Blaine caught a whiff of the succulent morsels, he was ashamed to admit that his stomach growled. "Planning to have Carson feed me, too?" He arched an eyebrow, tugging a little at his hands. He regretted it immediately as the rope rubbed his skin a little raw.

Kurt’s mouth twitched like he was holding back a grin. He could appreciate sarcasm. “Actually, I was going to untie you, if that’s not a problem. Or I can just feed you myself. No need to bring Carson back in when he has other things to do.”

He held Blaine’s gaze, trying to determine what he was thinking. “Of course, if I do untie you, I have to warn you that trying to escape would be useless. My bodyguards are everywhere.”
He moved around the table to lean his hip against it gently and crossed his arms in front of him. “What do you say, Mr. Anderson? Have lunch like a civilized human being or be fed like a pet?”

Blaine glowered at Kurt, his jaw clenched tight and a determined look in his eyes. He knew all too well the humiliation associated with being “fed like a pet” – Sebastian had gotten far too much enjoyment out of finding ways to break down Blaine’s pride over the years. Not that he was about to admit that to Kurt.

His mind raced, trying to guess how many bodyguards Kurt had and what the odds were of him actually making a successful escape. Hand-to-hand combat wouldn’t be a problem, unless they swarmed on him all at once. If he could wrestle away one of their guns, maybe he’d have a decent chance.

His face pinched into a pained expression. No; it was hopeless to think he could escape. He had no idea of the layout of Kurt’s house; even if he did manage to subdue enough bodyguards, there was no guarantee he’d be able to find his way out before he was recaptured.

It seemed like he had no choice, and he exhaled a heavy sigh, opening his eyes and meeting Kurt’s gaze. He clenched his teeth, growling out, “Civilized human being.”

“Good,” Kurt replied with a grin. He hated playing the strict mob boss all the time.

As he knelt down behind his guest’s chair and examined the rope, he grimaced at the raw, scrapes on Blaine’s skin. He would see to that after they ate.

Taking out his pocketknife, he held it to the bindings. “Don’t move – I need to cut the rope off and I don’t want to cut you.” After waiting a moment to make sure he wouldn’t move, Kurt sliced through the twisted cord and unwound it from Blaine’s wrists. “There. All done.”

Then, standing up again, Kurt went to his own chair and shot his guest a friendly smile, motioning to the plate in front of him. “Please, eat. You won’t be sorry, I promise. My cook is a masterful culinary artist.”

The friendliness Blaine saw in Kurt’s smile unnerved him a bit as he let his arms sag for a moment. He could feel the prickle of phantom pins and needles race up and down the lengths of his arms, but he bit down on his lip to stifle a pained groan. He rolled his shoulders and wrists and flexed his arms in attempting to get the blood circulating again. His muscles groaned in protest, but eventually he was able to lift his arms in a somewhat normal fashion. He picked up a fork as he swept his gaze over the food laid out before him.

“So what is this?” he asked in between bites of food. “One last meal before you send me to the cleaners?” When he actually took a moment to taste the food he was shoveling into his mouth, his eyebrows lifted. Apparently Kurt’s cook was everything he’d said and more.

“My compliments to your cook.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” Kurt nodded and chewed his food, quietly studying the man across from him. Smythe wasn't typically the type to keep long-term dalliances and Kurt wondered what sort of man could hold his rival's attentions for so long.

Blaine was handsome, there was no doubt about that, and he apparently had no problem speaking his mind around someone who was basically his enemy. Either he was just that ballsy, or he didn’t care what Kurt did to him. From what Kurt knew of Smythe over the years, he figured Blaine thought there was nothing Kurt could do to him that he hadn’t already faced. Hell, he’d practically said as much earlier. And if there was one thing Kurt didn’t want, it was to be compared in any way to Sebastian Smythe.

“Tell me, Mr. Anderson,” he began, wiping the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin, “what makes you think I plan to kill you? That defeats the entire purpose of gaining whatever dirt you have on Smythe.”

Blaine snorted – not an intelligent thing to do when one’s mouth was full. Once his coughing subsided and he’d washed down his food with a swig of his drink, he lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’m not planning to give you any information on Sebastian, so killing me seems to be the next logical step.” He set his glass down and swiped his own napkin across his mouth. “Look, Mr. Hummel, there’s still time to walk away from this. Just call off your guards and point me in the direction of the nearest exit. I’ll be out of your hair in no time at all.”

He knew the chances of Kurt actually agreeing to his offer were slim to none, but he had to try. Besides, the silver butter knife lying innocently beside his plate might not have seemed like much of a weapon, but in the right hands and stabbed into the right spot with enough force, it could do a decent amount of damage. He just had to wait for the right moment.

Kurt exhaled, feeling a little exasperated. “We already went over this. You know things; I want to know the things you know. It’s as simple as that. Your boss has been a thorn in my side for too long and I finally have someone from his inner circle who can tell me the best ways to bring him down. Am I right or am I wrong?” His gaze never left Blaine’s face as he took a drink from his own glass.

Blaine pressed his lips together in a thin line. “What makes you think I’m going to help you bring him down?” His eyes involuntarily strayed to the knife, his throat muscles working as he swallowed. He forced himself to wrench his gaze back to Kurt’s. “I’m not just his arm candy, you know.”

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. “I know what you are to him, or at least I can guess. People talk, you know.” Maybe some of the animosity Blaine spat at him could be directed toward his boss. From what little he could gather from the man’s comments, Kurt would bet he wasn’t exactly happy being a glorified pet.

It was a shame that Blaine was under Sebastian’s thumb like that; a man as handsome and clearly determined as him didn’t deserve to be an accessory of someone like Smythe. Kurt wouldn’t mind having Blaine for himself, if he could. It had been a long time since he had any sort of male companionship, being too busy to even consider taking a lover. The prospect now, though, definitely had its merits, and the wheels in his brain began turning again.

He knew he didn’t want to torture Blaine for information; not only would that be messy and go against his own rules of keeping the violence out of his house, but it wouldn’t guarantee accuracy. He also knew that just plain interrogation would get him nowhere. Blaine appeared to be a stubborn man, but so was Kurt, and he was confident he could get Blaine to talk. He may not have had a lover in some time, but he was sure he hadn’t lost his touch when it came to seducing a man. Maybe a little kindness and a soft touch was all Kurt needed to make Blaine sing.

It was worth a try, at least.

Finishing his meal, Kurt scooted back his chair and made his way to a side table by the door. Kurt rang the silver bell sitting on its surface to alert his butler that he was finished eating. “If you’re finished, Mr. Anderson, I’ll have Carson bring in some ointment and bandages, and I’ll tend to your wrists. It’s my fault you got the rope burns to begin with, so it’s the least I can do. Consider it my apology.”

The minute Kurt’s back had turned, Blaine had made a grab for the butter knife, springing to his feet and raising his hand above his head. But he froze as he absorbed Kurt’s words, and he frowned, lowering the knife. “Your... apology?” He was surprised, to say the least. No one had ever offered to tend to his wounds, not even Sebastian.

He ran his thumb along the handle of the knife, staring at it with a contemplative gaze. It could be a trap, an attempt to get on his good side – but the raw spots on his wrists still ached. What choice did he have, really?

He sighed and dropped the knife beside his plate, sitting back down.

“Yes, I’m finished.” He hesitated and then added, “Thank you.” He furrowed his brow. The words felt strange on his tongue, especially since he’d just finished having lunch with a known enemy, but it was shaping up to be that kind of day.

Although Kurt may have missed Blaine poised to stab him, he did catch him setting the blunt knife back onto the table. His eyebrow twitched up at the sight. Hmm – he’d had the perfect opportunity to strike and he hadn’t taken it because Kurt had apologized. Maybe kindness really was the way to go with Blaine. “You’re welcome.”

A moment later, Carson entered the room and picked up the tray and pitcher, ready to take them back down to the kitchen. Kurt stopped him on his way back out the door. “Please bring a wash cloth, a bowl of warm water, some bandages, and the healing salve.”

Carson nodded once. “Yes, Mr. Hummel.” And he was gone as quickly as he came.

Kurt turned and reclaimed his seat across from Blaine, relaxing enough to cross his leg at the knee, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. “Carson’s an excellent butler. Not one for long conversations, but he’s good at what he does. I sort of inherited him from my old boss.”

He smiled, hoping small talk would help his guest be more at ease while they waited.

Blaine watched Kurt for a few moments, blinking. He figured the questions would start any minute, and needed to prepare himself. “Do you often… inherit people?” He didn’t really care for that particular phrase. It seemed like Kurt considered Carson a possession, and Blaine had entirely too much experience with how that felt.

He glanced at his watch and grimaced. Sebastian had probably noticed by now that he’d given his bodyguards the slip. Whether or not Sebastian had begun to search for him depended on how rough of a day he was having and if he needed the kind of relief only Blaine could provide.

“What? No.” Kurt was clearly taken aback by Blaine’s question. “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just – when my boss died, he left me this house in his will. Carson was his old butler, and he lived here, and I didn’t have the heart to turn him out.” He was rambling, sure, but he didn’t like what Blaine was insinuating. “It’s not like I own him; he gets paid. Very well, in fact. It’s just that he’s been here so long it’s like he’s part of the house. This house would be nothing without Carson in it.”

By now, Kurt was sure he had thoroughly planted his foot in his mouth. It wasn’t very often that someone could fluster him like that, not since he was a teenager, but Blaine did it exceptionally well, apparently. He cleared his throat and turned the sparse conversation back to something a little less awkward before Carson finally arrived with the items Kurt had requested.

Moving his chair around so that he could reach Blaine’s hands better, he soaked the cloth in warm water and wrung it out before gently rubbing the burns and scrapes of the man’s wrists. “I know you’ve been with Smythe for close to five years now.” Everyone knew that Sebastian liked to boast about how long he’d had him. “What’s the appeal?”

Blaine let out a soft hiss as Kurt began rubbing at his wrists and then he scoffed. “The appeal for him or for me?” He licked his lips, not sure that he wanted to answer that question. Only three people knew the real reason why Blaine stuck with Sebastian – Sebastian, Blaine, and Blaine’s older brother, Cooper.

“For you,” Kurt said, smirking at him. “I can see the appeal for him – you’re very attractive. But I can’t imagine why anyone, let alone you, would stay with him for so long.”

Blaine squirmed and cleared his throat, hoping to steer the conversation away from such a sensitive subject. “I’m sorry I assumed that you consider Carson property. I’m sure he’s a great butler.” He was surprised that Kurt had said the man was paid well. He couldn’t really be certain that Sebastian’s staff was even paid, let alone well. One thing he did know was that Sebastian rarely praised them.

Maybe Kurt wasn’t as bad as Sebastian liked to claim.

“He is,” Kurt replied, spreading the salve along the rough patches of raw skin, rubbing it in gently with his fingers. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

He could understand if Blaine didn’t want to tell him his reasons for staying, and really, such facts were irrelevant to his goals, but he was curious. Sebastian was a snake, and so far Blaine seemed a decent fellow. It made Kurt wonder what could possibly keep a man like him under Smythe’s grasp. Blackmail? Maybe he paid Blaine to be with him. Neither possibility would surprise Kurt, honestly.

Blaine watched Kurt in silence, then sighed. “I was hoping you would’ve taken that as a hint to drop this.” He scrunched up his nose, intending to tell Kurt to fuck off in the most polite way possible, so he was stunned when the words that came out of his mouth were, “Who says I have any choice but to stay with him?”

His eyes widened, and he cleared his throat and dropped his gaze down to his wrists. “Thank you for this. You didn’t have to do this.” He licked his lips, not sure why he’d relaxed and given up on escaping. He thought for sure the torture would’ve started by now. Talking with Kurt didn’t seem to be such a chore.

So it was blackmail, Kurt concluded. Or something like it. And from the look of it, Blaine definitely wasn’t happy about his situation with the rival mob boss. That would work in Kurt’s favor. Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult to get Blaine to talk after all.

“Like I said, it’s the least I could do.” He gingerly wrapped the gauze around his guest’s wrists and tied them off. Lightly tracing his fingers along the white bandage, he met Blaine’s gaze. “You know, Mr. Anderson, Smythe won’t get to you while you’re here. I can make sure of that. I can also promise that while you’re a guest in my house, no harm will come to you.” His fingers trailed higher along Blaine’s forearm but continued to keep eye contact.

Blaine’s breath most certainly did not hitch when Kurt’s fingers traced along his bandage. He ached for a kind touch or word; it had been so long since he’d had either that he almost couldn’t remember ever getting them. “I’m not worried about Sebastian harming me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why worry about something that I know is going to happen one way or another?”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “Sebastian’s not a bad guy, he’s just-” His brow furrowed as his mind cast about for words that lingered just beyond his grasp. He couldn’t lie – Sebastian was a bastard, and everyone knew it. He liked to parade Blaine around on his arm, sure, but even Blaine couldn’t deny the existence of signs that pointed to things not being all peachy keen in the Smythe household. Blaine’s smile didn’t quite meet his eyes anymore.

He cleared his throat. “You can’t stop him, Mr. Hummel. We have an agreement – an arrangement, I guess you could say, and he’ll make sure I see it through to the end.” His gaze dropped to the stark white bandage around his waist. To the end, ha. No end existed for him except, perhaps, the final end, when Sebastian’s anger got the best of him one day and he went too far in taking it out on Blaine.

Kurt frowned as he listened. He couldn’t help it – he hated Sebastian Smythe with a passion, and knowing he had such a hold on anyone irritated him. They might be in the same business, but they were nothing alike, and Kurt certainly didn’t treat his people like dirt. And he never blackmailed people. There were always better ways to get what he wanted – he could catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

Huffing out a quick breath, Kurt straightened and began gathering up the first aid materials. “I won’t ask you what arrangement you have, because it’s none of my business. However, as I said before, as long as you stay here, you’re under my protection. And if you ever feel like divulging what it is he has on you… well, maybe I can make you a better offer.”

For a price, of course, but he didn’t say that. He wouldn’t protect this man for free; he still wanted the secret to destroying his rival. Even with his current offer of protection while Blaine remained in the house, Kurt still expected to receive a little of what he wanted.

“Now,” he stated, as he stood up, “I’m afraid I have to go. There’s a bathroom down the hall should you require it and if you need anything, just ring the bell and Carson will fetch it for you.”

And that was that. Kurt left without a glance back and Blaine was left staring in his wake.

Sebastian scowled as he jerked his suit sleeve back so he could check the time on his watch. Three hours had passed since Blaine’s bodyguards had returned sans Blaine. “I can’t believe you lost him again!” he growled at the nearest guard, who recoiled.

“Sorry, boss,” the man mumbled, letting his head hang.

Sebastian scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I should kill every single one of you and hire new guys.” He folded his arms over his chest. Of course Blaine would pull a stunt like this on one of Sebastian’s most stressful days. He desperately needed the kind of relief that only Blaine could provide – it had been a terrible day for collecting money. One or two had to be roughed up by his goons to get them to cough it up. Then there had been Mickey, one of Sebastian’s favorites. He’d apparently gotten stupid and thought he could challenge Sebastian.

Sebastian had put the bullet between Mickey’s eyes himself, God rest his soul. So, needless to say, Sebastian was aggravated and needed some of Blaine’s loving.

“If Blaine’s not back here in an hour, you’re all fired,” he snapped over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room. “Permanently.”