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Summary
Astarion hummed lightly in appreciation as he strode into a gorgeous suite. Damn, he’d gone into law with the intention of always being able to have the finer things in life, but this was something else. This was the sort of suite Cazador would book, when he decided to descend from on high and flash some cash. ‘I made out alright tonight regardless,’ he thought, shrugging off his jacket and dropping it over the back of an opulent chaise.
‘Wait, no. I’m making out better. This punter might not own my firm, but by the gods he’s got cash, and he’s gorgeous…’
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Or, How Astarion Hopes to Get a Promotion and Gets Way More Than He Bargained For