Summary:

Ilya didn’t know what was worse: knowing Hollander’s favourite ginger ale brand, or caring too much about getting his hands on a case of it. He planned to use it as leverage to convince Hollander to stay the night at his Boston penthouse. To sleep in his bed until morning. Or, that time Ilya Rozanov nearly had a mental breakdown at the grocery store the night before he’d planned to fuck and make a tuna melt for Shane Hollander.