Chapter 4
FOUR
Vomiting was always horrid. Vomiting in the men’s room at the Royal Albert Hall while Javier hovered nearby, hands full of damp paper towels that he used to wipe Desmond’s mouth in between bouts of heaving was infinitely worse.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Desmond panted once his stomach settled into a queasy roil.
“Honey, this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with that bitch, Matthew,” Javier said, crouching and helping Desmond to settle against the stall’s wall.
Desmond wanted to protest that it was, indeed, his fault, that he should have been firmer with Matthew about the break-up, and that he should have taken a few other steps to cut all ties with his ex entirely.
He was embarrassed now to think about those other steps.
In fact, he couldn’t think about that now.
All he could think about was the tall, gorgeous man in a designer suit that now had a spot of vomit on the lapel who reached over to flush the toilet, then gently wiped his mouth with more paper towels.
“I am not entirely certain,” Desmond said weakly, glancing up at Javier’s serious, beautiful face as he studied him, “whether this is the most humiliating moment of my life or one of the best.”
A second after the words were spoken, Desmond recognized how silly he sounded. He flushed in mortification, then flushed even hotter when a slow smile spread over Javier’s face.
“I’ll take that as a compliment on my bedside manner,” Javier said before rocking back and muscling himself to stand. He offered a hand to Des as well. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home so you can rest.”
Desmond nodded and let Javier do most of the work to get him fully upright.
His stomach was still miserable, but the worst was over.
There couldn’t have been too much shrimp in his quiche, otherwise he would have had far more problems that encompassed both ends, and for a much longer length of time.
Still, he felt shaky and delicate as Javier escorted him to the sink, as he splashed his face with water and scrubbed a few spots on his suit, and as he called Hasan to come back early to pick them up.
“Is everything alright?” Hasan asked them as they met the car by the hall’s front entrance.
“Just a bit of an accident with some shrimp,” Javier answered for him.
“How did that happen?” Hasan asked as he held the door while Javier helped Desmond into the car.
“I was careless,” Desmond said, not wanting to admit just how he was careless.
“That’s not like you at all,” Hasan said, shutting the door.
Desmond just hummed as his friend slipped into the driver’s seat.
“No limo tonight?” Javier asked teasingly as they pulled away from the concert hall and started their journey through London.
Desmond laughed cautiously, not wanting to jolt his stomach too much. “I save the limo for special occasions, like rescuing soaked cupids from street corners.”
Javier laughed, which was the best medicine he could have had at the moment. “I’m not sure I thanked you enough for that,” he said.
“It was no trouble at all,” Desmond said. He paused, then continued his earlier thought with, “I don’t live terribly far from here, so the Bentley is fine.”
“Yes, of course, the Bentley is fine,” Javier said with just a touch of friendly sarcasm. “I didn’t realize I was dating a billionaire.”
“I’m not a billionaire,” Desmond said, then felt a rush of deep sheepishness. “I’m a few million short of that mark.”
He waited for Javier’s look of judgement, but instead, Javier laughed even harder and reached out a hand to rest on Desmond’s knee.
Des couldn’t tell if the gesture was deliberate or incidental, but either way, he liked it.
Back in the restroom and here in the car, he felt better with Javier’s hands on him.
Javier seemed a bit touchy-feely, and if he was honest with himself, Des was a bit touch-starved.
Less than ten minutes later, Hasan pulled up in front of Desmond’s Kensington townhouse.
“This is where you live?” Javier asked, looking out at the stately edifice with wide eyes.
Desmond was captivated for a moment by how beautiful Javier’s eyes looked, even in the darkness of the car.
He’d definitely made his face up for the night, though not so obviously that the stuffy crowd at the concert would comment.
The man knew how to use eyeliner to perfection, though. It had Desmond’s heart beating faster.
Although that could have been the revenge of the shrimp that he was in serious danger of experiencing.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked. Instead of sounding friendly, or even flirty, he sounded a bit desperate as his intestines made a warning sound.
Javier looked at him again with sympathy and said, “I think I’d better.”
He needed more help than he wanted to admit getting out of the car.
It should have been a simple action, but his vomiting spree had left him feeling decidedly wobbly.
It was nice to have Javier by his side as he thanked and said goodbye to Hasan, then climbed the steps to his front door, unlocked it, and let them both in.
“It’s not much,” he said half-jokingly as he flicked on the lights and tossed his keys in the dish on a small table by the door, “but it’s home.”
“Not much?” Javier repeated, glancing around.
Desmond glanced into the cozy snug right next to the front door, then up the stairs to where his master bedroom suite waited.
He wanted to get out of his spoiled suit and into joggers and a t-shirt or something equally comfortable, but instead, he gestured for Javier to follow him down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Sorry, the maid hasn’t been,” he joked. Well, it was sort of a joke. He did have a cleaning service that came in and they’d been the day before, but admitting that out loud felt awkward.
Javier laughed all the same, which had Desmond smiling again. “You probably do need a maid with a place this size, assuming you work all the time.”
“Why would you assume that?” Desmond asked, heading straight to the sink so he could get a glass of cold water.
“I didn’t ask for details before the Cupid debacle, but I assume you’re some sort of executive for Pickering Jones, what with the office you have,” Javier said.
“Assistant Director,” Desmond said roughly after taking his first sip of water. He wasn’t convinced it was going to stay down, but he needed something to flush out his system.
“Assistant Director,” Javier said, impressed with just a little bit of camp. “I had no idea my boyfriend was financial royalty.”
Desmond stopped halfway through taking another sip, cup held to his face. Boyfriend. He liked the sound of that. Even if it was fake.
“Yes, well, dear,” he said, playing along awkwardly, “I didn’t tell you about my promotion, did I.”
Javier’s smile grew warm, and a sparkle lit his eyes. “No, babydoll, you didn’t,” he said. “But let’s get you out of that suit and into something warm and comfortable, maybe with a cup of tea to settle your stomach, and you can tell me all about it.”
The fireworks that filled Desmond’s gut did not help at all with his queasiness, but he almost didn’t care.
They were playacting, he knew, but after the torture chamber his relationship with Matthew had descended into, maybe he deserved to play pretend with someone who evidently knew how a real boyfriend should be.
“Yes, dear,” he said, as meek as a lamb, setting his glass of water aside.
The light in Javier’s eyes sparked even more as he held out his hand. “Come on. Show me up to your inner sanctum and I’ll help you get tidied up.”
Desmond started forward, actually taking Javier’s hand, though he couldn’t believe it, and marching straight past the lounge and the formal dining room, places that would have been far more appropriate to entertain someone he only barely knew, and upstairs to his bedroom.
“Who did you have design this place?” Javier asked, glancing around appreciatively, as Desmond brought him into the heart of his most personal room. Javier stopped, let go of Des’s hand, and said, “If you tell me Matthew designed everything, then I might have to break up with you.”
He was teasing, of course, but Desmond felt a real pull of dread in his tender gut.
“I completely redid the place after Matthew moved out in November,” he said, face flushing with misplaced guilt. “He had picked out everything when he moved in several years ago.”
“How long have you lived here?” Javier asked with a slight frown.
“Oh, nearly ten years now,” Desmond said, shrugging out of his jacket so he didn’t have to meet Javier’s eyes. “It was one of my first investments as I started to see success in the financial world.”
“Mmm hmm.” Javier’s hum was all Des needed to hear to know Javier had guessed just how deeply Matthew had sunk his claws into his life.
He never should have let someone so volatile swoop in and take over so much of his life.
It was embarrassing to remember how hungry for the sort of attention Matthew had given him he’d been.
Des cleared his throat. “I’ll just pop into the en suite to change and wash up a bit.”
“And I’ll just see what I have to work with here,” Javier said with a teasing wink, moving straight to Des’s wardrobe.
As much as Des wanted to stick around to see what a former model thought of his clothing choices, he really did need to clean up.
He grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved t-shirt from his bureau, and with one last, curious look at Javier as he threw open the wardrobe doors and studied its contents, Des slipped into the bathroom.