Chapter 12 #2
“Great.” It felt inadequate, but everything else that Lee could think to add seemed like either too much or too little. So he settled for shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans as he repeated it. “Great.”
“Yeah.” Briefly, silence descended before Alex added, “Thank you.”
“For…?”
“Caring enough to notice that something’s wrong.
” The words were close to a whisper, contrasting with the sudden laughter rising from a group that contained Lewis.
“Joshua asked whether I have people in my corner and told me to keep them close.” Alex’s eyes met Lee’s with a strange intensity. “I intend to.”
It didn’t feel casual. It felt big and bright, like something that could crush Lee if he didn’t proceed with caution.
He didn’t care.
The knock was so quiet that Lee might have missed it if he hadn’t been waiting.
He let Alex into the room, closed the door, and turned to face him—only to be dragged into a deep kiss that was fed by an edge of desperation, Lee’s back hitting the wall, Alex’s fingers digging into his shoulders.
He fell into it for the length of a breath and wound his hands into Alex’s hair, Alex’s body solid along his front.
Then he shoved Alex back, if gently. “Talk to me.”
Alex stared at Lee’s mouth for a moment before he slowly raised his gaze, eyes wide. He stayed silent.
Family stuff. What the hell did that mean?
Lee glanced at the oriental-style bed with its gold frame and plush pillows—too intimate—and the velvet armchairs—too far apart. The sofa it was, then. More like a diwan, really, set against a wall with an array of cushions serving as its backrest. Lee nudged Alex towards it with a, “Sit.”
Alex sat.
Lee perched on the other side of the diwan, taking in the low light slanting over Alex’s face. He looked younger than he had in years. “Talk to me,” Lee repeated, much more quietly. “You said something about family stuff?”
Alex seemed to come alive with a rough intake of air, his smile a caricature as he met Lee’s eyes. “Yeah, so, turns out my father dabbles in political puppetry.”
Alex’s father… what? What did that mean—bribery? Blackmail? Based on Alex’s dark expression, it had to be pretty fucking bad, yet Lee couldn’t help the burst of relief that buoyed him because who bloody cared what Alex’s pompous ass of a father did? Alex was okay.
Lee shifted closer, tucking one foot under his thighs. “What, exactly, does that mean?”
“It’s…” Alex’s shoulders sagged, his painfully fake smile fading.
“Apparently, he’s been taking money from Qatar.
Or maybe not money, maybe just favors, tit for tat—I don’t even know.
” Alex shook his head and looked away with a dejected shrug.
“Some other people did too, I guess. I just—I don’t know. ”
Okay, that was… something. Quite something, in fact. Lee squashed the instant, impulsive anger at Alex’s father helping himself to an extra serving of cash just because he could, which, what the fuck?
“The prince told you that?”
Another shrug. “Someone tipped off their team.”
Lee exhaled, staring at Alex as he worked through the implications. From what he’d gathered, Alex’s parents were loaded, but some people wanted their bread buttered on both sides, and an old, sprawling manor didn’t manage its own upkeep now, did it?
“Hang on, though.” Lee raised a hand and dropped it again. “Isn’t your dad all about traditional values and the good ol’ days when the Great British Empire ruled the world?”
“Doesn’t get much more traditional than Qatar, does it?
They wouldn’t stand for a gay prince over there, that’s for sure.
” Alex snorted, his eyes empty. “Conservative values for the win, right? Oh, and also, reducing societal hierarchies? Not so popular in Qatar, I bet. And my dad’s not exactly a fan of discussions around reforming the House of Lords either, or abolishing it completely—I’m sure that’s another thing where he might see eye to eye with Emir Whatshisname.
Let commoners rule the country? Heaven forbid. ”
Lee frowned. It was still sinking in, exhaustion mixing with disbelief because it just seemed…
It seemed… well. Foreign countries trying to influence other political systems was an everyday occurrence, sure, but in the days of social media, deep fakes, and state-sponsored hacker groups, it seemed almost quaint to buy individual favors.
Then again, wasn’t that how Qatar—a country with a poor human rights record, no soccer tradition, and sweltering summer temperatures—had become the first Middle Eastern host of a World Cup? By buying individual votes? Allegedly.
Lee reached out to give Alex’s elbow a light squeeze. “You’re sure it’s true, then?”
Alex ducked his head. “I’m taking Joshua’s word for it.”
“Why would someone like him get involved?”
“There are some thirty dukes in the UK, and less than a hundred hereditary peers in the House of Lords.” Alex paused, voice lower when he continued. “This is a big deal, Lee. It could reflect on the aristocracy as a whole.”
On people like you. On you.
“If it’s true,” Lee said.
“They would have made sure it is.”
“Have you asked your dad?”
“No. I mean, fuck—what would I even say? ‘Hi, dad, been hanging out with some suspicious characters lately?’” The line of Alex’s mouth flattened. “I’m not all that close to them—my parents, I mean. But they’re still my parents. You know?”
“I get it.”
“Yeah.” Alex’s brows drew together. “I guess you would. So, you know. All I did was go to my hotel room and try not to throw up, until I realized I needed to show my face at the party—at least briefly.”
They were quiet for a few moments, an echo of the earlier crowd’s noise still ringing faintly in Lee’s ears, the thunder of ten thousand voices when he’d scored his first goal.
It was disorienting, his mind pulled in three directions by Alex’s news mixed with an alert kind of exhaustion, a weird hollowness that lingered after the adrenaline had drained.
“Anyway,” Alex said softly, “could be that my phone is tapped. Left it in my room.”
It cut through the scattered commotion in Lee’s brain. “Wait, you think your phone is tapped?”
“I’m not a suspect or anything, I think.” Alex paused. “But I’m close to it, at least on paper, and this is the royal family—they don’t work with amateurs.”
Fuck, that was…
Fuck.
Alex didn’t deserve this. He did not fucking deserve to be caught in the wake of his father’s decisions, sink or swim.
This time, when Lee reached for Alex, he didn’t let go—pulled Alex into an embrace that he fought for just a moment before he sagged into it with a shuddery exhale against Lee’s neck. Oh God, Lee loved him.
He—shit. He didn’t, no. They were temporary, weren’t built to last. Love had never been part of their deal.
“You know what’s funny?” Breathing through the nausea, Lee tightened his arms around Alex. “You do like your political thrillers. Now you’re living one.”
Alex’s laugh was weak and a little watery. “Turns out I prefer the theory.”
I think I’m a little bit in love with you.
Lee swallowed around the shards of glass in his throat. “Do you know when the story will break?”
“Not exactly.” Alex straightened a little, his gaze focused on a point just above Lee’s shoulder, his distant tone at odds with the heaviness that hung around him like a cloak. “They’ll hand the evidence to the police tomorrow, and then it’s all bets off, I guess.”
“Will your dad be stripped of his title?” Not that Lee cared, but it seemed like a thing that might matter to some people.
In fact, Alex wasn’t an earl in his own right, was he?
There were rules about that sort of thing, and until Charles Beaufort died, Alex was merely borrowing his father’s secondary title.
“I don’t know.” Alex lifted one shoulder, still gazing at nothing. “I don’t think that really happens anymore but… I mean, maybe? I don’t know.”
He sounded so lost that Lee’s heart ached just a little for him.
They were still touching, turned towards each other on the diwan with Lee’s knee digging into the side of Alex’s thigh, and all Lee wanted to do was pull Alex back in and hide him from the world, at least for a day or two.
Or a week, a month—until the dust started to settle.
It wasn’t Lee’s place, though.
He circled Alex’s wrist in a loose grip and waited until Alex looked at him. “You know I’m here, right? Whatever you need.”
Alex blinked a few times, voice rough. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Alex.” Lee let the words sit for a moment before he asked, “What are you going to do?”
“Keep my head down. Play soccer.” Alex pressed his lips together. “Talk to my dad at some point, I suppose? My mum, too.” His shoulders dropped as he glanced away, eyes wet. “Fuck, I just—I don’t know, Lee. I don’t know.”
Lee tightened his hold on Alex’s wrist, and God, he wanted to tell him it would be fine, everything would be fine, but how could he promise what he couldn’t control? “Have you told Jeff?”
“No.” Alex’s chest rose with a deep breath. “I didn’t want to ruin his night.”
“Mate, he’ll be mad at you for keeping this from him.”
“Yeah. But until then, he’ll have a nice time with a girl he seems to really like. Not an everyday occurrence, you know?”
Fuck, Lee liked him. So much. Here was this boy, this man, who’d just received some life-altering news—and instead of leaning on his best mate for support, he put on a smile to protect others’ good time.
How could Lee not kiss him for that? Alex sank into it immediately, clinging to Lee in a way he wouldn’t normally, faint taste of mint and the whiff of his cologne, all familiar by now.
Behind Lee’s closed lids, the room spun on its axis before it righted again.
Even as they slowly drew apart, they stayed close, dim light washing over Alex’s features, sapping the color from his hazel eyes, the tips of his lashes bleached after a month under the Spanish sun.