Sam watched the exchange between Vomas and Conner just long enough to ascertain that they'd be talking business before he spun on his heel and stalked off, not bothering to tell his lover where he was going. Why should he? Vomas would only overlook anything he said like he usually did and then call him when he was ready to rush back to his precious Towers, not caring where he was or what he was doing anyway. God forbid they have a nice time together or actually contemplate some fun on the one night they'd managed to negotiate their absence from their place of residence and business! God forbid Vomas actually notice him.
The younger vampire was furious with his lover. It had been building for a while, he'd been feeling Vomas' absence from their bed and from his nights but he'd told himself it was to be expected and not raised a fuss about it. They were busy establishing a business and Vomas as a District Leader, after all, and something like a vampire-friendly casino didn't just happen overnight. At first they'd worked together, though. Sam had seen how much Vomas had struggled to get everything off the ground and stepped in without being asked, negotiating contractors to clean the Towers up and have them sparkling, designers to buy furniture from, decorators to dress the rooms with. It hadn't been easy, as he was really not much of a people person but Vomas had needed him and he'd been thanked profusely, in the early days.
Then something had gone wrong - he'd okayed something he shouldn't have, Vomas had hated it, the opening of the casino had been put back specifically because of something he'd said. He'd stuck to keeping things running after that, avoiding making decisions beyond where the servers should be set up and how the security feeds should be reviewed. Somehow, he'd found himself in charge of the employees of the Towers, managing personnel, hiring and firing, overseeing the donors and keeping them happy. It was not a role he'd ever have picked for himself, but he was diplomatic and even-tempered enough to smooth even the prickliest of situations over and the employees respected him - to the point that he'd only been asked once to act as go-between between an employee and Vomas and when he refused, his stance on being separate from 'the boss' was touted.
It had become more than just an ethical separation, however, as Vomas' running of the business and Sam's night-by-night attendance to the intricate runnings of the Towers pulled them apart. They texted more than they talked, it was often a nice surprise to pass Vomas in a hall (if he ever left his office) and being in their suite at the same time was almost unheard of these nights. Tonight, he'd thought that might change, that they would actually manage some intimacy before this party and so he hadn't rushed out of bed, even when he awoke to find Vomas missing, expecting the handsome Irishman would return to remind him what sex was (seeing as they hadn't had any for over two months, by his count).
But no. Mister Business himself had breezed into the room, already smartly dressed and demanding to know what Sam would be wearing before he frowned and queried why he wasn't up if he was awake, and was he planning to shower or just get dressed and go? All of Sam's fantasies had died an ineffective, screaming death inside his chest and he'd deliberately taken his time getting ready, sullenly skating the fine line that would keep Vomas from screaming at him hard enough to pop a blood vessel and doing exactly what he wanted. He was feeling spiteful enough to delight in Vomas' exasperation, fuming that his lover didn't see that the habits they'd fallen into were destructive. He'd been thinking for the past week or so that maybe Vomas was just sick of being tied to him, and part of him was steeling itself for the end he anticipated was coming. He'd fallen hard for his boss; was that ever going to end well, especially when said boss was an emotional recluse who had a tendency to demean anyone overly sentimental and clingy?
They were a recipe for disaster from the beginning but Sam had tried desperately to make it work. Well, until tonight, when he'd got completely shut down, when his opening smiles and wiggles had elicited nothing but terse questions and an eagerness to get going; the sooner they left, the sooner they could come back for more work. Yay. He'd dressed unusually, too, his attire certainly not complementing Vomas' three piece suit except perhaps in tone; he was wearing shiny, low-heeled black shoes, faded black jeans, a white tuxedo dress shirt (untucked), a charcoal grey, pinstriped tuxedo vest (it had not much of a back and was done up at the front with three small buttons over his navel) and a white bow tie holding the perfect little collar closed at his throat. His pristine sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he'd hoped Vomas might tell him to change into a proper suit (for he had many) but it hadn't happened. He could only suppose he wasn't important enough to worry about his attire (though he also thought he looked quite dashing in his funky outfit, so maybe Vomas just didn't see enough wrong with it to object).
As much as it hurt, he walked away from Vomas and his business-oriented work ethic, needing a break from pining for him and a distraction from his loneliness. He headed up the stairs to where the music was as loud as his mood was, thinking he wanted to drink from a person rather than from a glass tonight and prowling around the edge of the room looking for someone that appealed.
