Zaeed’s hands were lightly shaking. He swallowed another shot of whiskey straight from the bottle to try and calm them, letting out a sharp breath as it burned down his throat. This... was getting difficult.

He wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be. His men wouldn’t look at him the same, they wouldn’t respect him. Hell, they wouldn’t respect him if they knew how soft he was for this person, regardless of their gender. The fact they were a man as well only made it worse. How could a man, a strong, masculine, aggressively manly man like him -- be in love with another man? It wasn’t right. He didn’t give a shit about religion or sin, if Hell existed, he’d earned his spot long before his lips touched theirs. All that mattered right now was the present, and it was looking... bleak.

He simply couldn’t let anyone know about this. He just couldn’t. If anyone knew how enamored he felt... hell, even he didn’t understand it. The way his chest tightened, the way his palms sweat. They were so handsome. He hated it. They were a secret from his men, a shameful one at that, and they had to stay that way.