Chapter Twenty-One
An Unexpected Encounter
Roman remained at the table for a long time after Mallon had left, staring at the debris on his plate, his mind somewhere far away. All the things Mallon had told him tumbled through his head in an un-sequenced scramble. His marriage and children were the least surprising. Mallon had provided nothing but the barest scraps of information about his life in France until now. Roman hadn’t given it a huge amount of thought, but it made perfect sense that he’d had something to hide.
Roman had tried to steer clear of married men, especially the ones who were married to women, for the longest time. They were everywhere of course, on Grindr and other dating apps, even at The Viaduct, but he had developed a good instinct for spotting them. A few were honest enough to admit the fact straight up, asking for complete discretion in their initial contacts. Whenever it happened, he gave a polite rejection and blocked them from contacting him again.
Roman had old-fashioned values about marriage. He was fine with open relationships and couples who liked to pick up a third party for a threesome, when everything they did was consensual and honest. It was the guys who cheated and played around on the side that he had the issue with.
The wives and partners of those men were not party to the arrangement. They waited at home, believing their stories of working late or drinks with the boys while their husbands took dicks in the vaults of The Viaduct or hooked up with some cutie they had met through an app.
Roman had always believed people could do whatever they wanted to while they were single, could fuck as many random strangers as they desired, but once they made a commitment to another person, they should honour it.
He didn’t have many rules in life, but avoiding married men was one of them.
There were always a few who slipped through. Some men were so practised at lying and deception, it was impossible to figure them out until it was too late. He’d had a thing with a nice guy called Paul about a year before. They had gotten together three or four times and had great chemistry, Roman had thought they had the potential to take things further. When he’d invited Paul to watch a mid-week game of football, he’d admitted he couldn’t. It was his husband’s birthday, and they were going to dinner. When Roman asked if they had an open relationship, Paul had to admit that they didn’t. His screwing around was entirely one-sided.
Though Roman had seen him around The Viaduct a few times since then, he’d given Paul a wide berth.
Married men always found a way to justify what they did. My wife doesn’t understand me. She doesn’t like sex anymore. No one understands bisexuality. This is the only way I can be my true self. Mallon wasn’t the first guy to tell him that he stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of his children.
Roman had managed to negotiate a simple and clean path, avoiding the pitfalls of horny husbands and their shitty excuses.
Until now…until Mallon.
The waitress returned to clear the table, breaking the spell of introspection.
“Can I bring you anything else?” she asked. “Dessert? Coffee?”
Roman was about to say he’d have the bill then changed his mind. “Can I have a double vodka with just the tiniest dash of Coke?”
“No problem,” she said with a jovial smile. “I’ll bring that right over.”
He checked his phone. There was a text from Ashley to say everything was fine with Patrick. Another one with his head up his own arse . He would stand by that lie for as long as he had to. Roman didn’t bother to reply. He had enough issues of his own to think about.
The waitress delivered the vodka, and he took a long, gratifying drink.
What now?
The obvious answer was to tell Mallon they were finished. They had no ties to each other. Mallon could piss off back to France and unpick the complicated web of his personal life—or stay here and find another fuckboy to satisfy his needs. There was no reason they ever had to see each other again.
Apart from one.
Mallon had said he was in love with Roman, and though Roman had avoided entertaining even the idea of love for Mallon in case it should end in disaster, he couldn’t deny he felt the same. He thought it was just sex, that he was infatuated with him and his beautiful cock, but the way he thirsted for him on the nights they weren’t together, how much he missed him when he returned to France, proved his feelings ran far deeper than anything physical.
Mallon’s confession had come as an even bigger shock than the news of his wife and kids.
Since they’d gotten together, Mallon had kept a tight lid on his inner self. Roman knew he liked good quality food and drink and loathed junk, but other than those things and sex, he had not expressed a great passion for anything. Roman knew Mallon was obsessed with his arse but had no clue if he was interested in anything else about him. He didn’t even know what kind of music he liked or what TV shows he was into. Mallon’s life seemed to revolve around two things—work and fucking.
And now he says he’s in love with me .
Roman took another good drink of vodka.
He picked up the key to Mallon’s apartment and turned it over in his hands. What was the significance of this? It was a bold step to offer an open invitation to his home. Until now, Mallon had given no indication he wanted Roman to be a more significant part of his life in Blyham.
It was a lot to take in. The family issues would have to wait. Right now he needed to get his head around his own feelings, what he felt for this sexy, fascinating and infuriating French man who had gotten under his skin.
He blew out a long breath. His intention had been to go straight home. He needed time to think and get his thoughts in order, but that seemed impossible. There were too many unanswered questions that would keep him up for the rest of the night. There would be no opportunity to talk things through with Ashley, either, not with Patrick lurking around the flat. Roman could do with his friend right now, but Ashley had made it clear that Patrick was his priority.
Fuck it . He couldn’t let this lie. He needed to talk to Mallon again…tonight.
Roman asked for the bill and ordered an Uber. He would have enjoyed the walk from here to the riverside, but after what had happened to Phil, he knew better than to risk it. The Blyham Strangler worked on a cycle. It would be unlikely for him to strike again so soon, but there were other dangers on these streets. It would be just his luck to encounter a homophobic gang between here and the apartment. An Uber was the most sensible option.
The car arrived within five minutes. Roman’s heart raced as they drove through the city streets. He sent a quick text to let Mallon know he was on his way. Though Mallon had given him permission to come and go as he pleased, it seemed wrong to let himself in unannounced.
What if Mallon regretted giving him the key already? He could have changed his mind about everything by the time Roman saw him. No matter how complicated this was for Roman, it had to be a hundred times worse for Mallon. And what kind of future could they have? Mallon had already made it clear he would not divorce his wife until the youngest child was in university.
Roman sighed. The questions would not quit. They spun around his head, out of control, and he couldn’t see clearly.
Do I really want to get involved with this? To be the part-time lover of a family man from France?
There would always be a huge part of Mallon’s life he would never experience or understand. At twenty-six, did he want to spend the next eight or nine years waiting for a divorce that might never happen? He only had Mallon’s word that his marriage was on the rocks. What if it was just a fanciful story to string him along and keep sex on tap here in Blyham?
When the car arrived at the riverside, Roman was tempted to tell the driver he had changed his mind and to take him home instead. The temptation was strong. Maybe this decision would be easier in the morning. He wasn’t committing to spending the night here. He’d only come to hear what Mallon had to say. He could call another driver and leave whenever he wanted to.
Roman stepped out.
The night was even colder here than in the city centre. A chill wind from the North Sea blew down the river and cut through to his bones.
He looked up at the building and saw the lights were on in Mallon’s apartment. He shivered, filled with apprehension, and wrapped his fingers around the key card in his pocket.
As he moved towards the front door, a figure stepped out of the shadows to his left.
“Hey. Fancy seeing you here,” the man said.
He was dressed in a thick leather jacket with a woollen hat and gloves. There was something familiar about the light Birmingham accent and the thick-set frame.
“Sorry,” Roman said. “Do I know you?”
The man gave a snort of amusement and tugged off the hat, revealing a mussed-up crop of blond hair. “I really don’t make much of an impression on you, do I?”
In the lamplight, Roman recognised the handsome, square-jawed face. “Oh, Will, hi.” For a one-time encounter from a year ago, he had run into him a lot lately.
“Ah, then you remember my name this time.”
Roman guessed it was meant to sound light-hearted and funny but there was a patronising sound to Will’s words.
He shrugged. “I didn’t recognise you in the dark, that’s all. What are you doing here? Is this where you live?”
Will moved nearer to him. “Nope. Came down this way for a hook-up, that’s all. Was hardly worth the effort, if you know what I mean.”
Roman forced a laugh. Will stood between him and the entrance, showing no sign of stepping aside. “I think we all know what that’s like,” he said, humouring him but wishing he would go away.
Will’s eyes narrowed and he looked Roman up and down. “Maybe the night is not a dead waste after all.” He came closer. “How about we go pick up where we left off last summer? You have a beautiful body. I’d love to get into it again.”
Roman pulled back. This is just weird . He laughed nervously. “I’m flattered, really. But I’m seeing someone.” He gestured to the building. “He’s waiting for me now, so I should get inside. It’s too cold to stand around talking out here, right?”
Will still didn’t get out of his way. He stared directly into Roman’s eyes. “Oh, that’s right. Frenchy. You’re fucking the moody French guy, aren’t you?”
“His name is Mallon,” Roman said, no longer trying to humour him. Will was behaving like a total creep. Whoever he’d come here to see had probably blown him out for the same reason Roman had last year. There was just something off about him. “How do you know who I’m seeing, anyway?”
Will laughed. “It’s a small city, small scene. Everybody knows who everyone else is fucking, don’t they?” He stepped nearer. “How about I come up with you, and you can introduce us? The French invented the ménage à trois.”
Roman had heard enough—Patrick and Ashley and now Will. What had gotten into everyone tonight? They were acting like there was a full moon. “It was nice running into you.” He stepped around him and headed for the door, the key already in his hand. “Take care.”
“What’s that Frenchy got that I haven’t, anyway?” Will hollered after him.
Roman’s pulse quickened. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He swiped the card and was grateful to see the security light turn from red to green. He hurried inside and ensured it locked behind him.
Will stood about ten yards away, watching and grinning.
What a creep. To think I once fancied him .
Roman turned and crossed the floor to the elevator. When he glanced back to the door, Will had disappeared.
Unnerved by the bizarre encounter, Roman pressed the switch to summon the lift.