Royal Crush

Chapter 11

Eleven

CAMILLO

I could feel Aleric’s eyes on me as I navigated the streets heading to the little apartment above a café that almost no one knew I owned. I hadn’t been there in months. The place was occasionally rented out to tourists and was kept clean, and the kitchen was used for overstock for the café, which meant we’d at least have something to eat and drink while we talked.

Not that my stomach was going to tolerate food.

But it was a safe place. The safest I knew. It was my little getaway from my family, or from the press, or from hookups that liked to call themselves exes when the tabloids asked. There was a private parking space around back and an elevator that fit my chair and one standing person if we squeezed together very closely.

In short, it was ideal for the story I wanted to tell Aleric.

It was too late to go back now. My only other option was to come up with a lie that sounded close enough to the truth. But I didn’t want to lie about him. About…Hugo. Shit, I hadn’t let myself say his name in so, so long.

I didn’t want to think about him at all. I hadn’t considered that the show was going to use his character because I’d done my best to keep his role so minuscule in my book that most people wouldn’t think of him twice by the time they got to the last page.

But I’d forgotten the way scriptwriters could twist things to their benefit, and the monster who took my disabled virginity was going to end up a character in the show. And because I hadn’t given details about him at all—not even a fake name—it was a blank slate.

So now there was Raul: an attractive, charming man whose chemistry with Aleric was off the fucking charts. I found myself rooting for them to kiss by the time the director yelled cut, and it took me some time to remember that this was supposed to be the man who had almost ruined me.

Hugo would see this too. I had no doubt. He had no access to me anymore, but I still heard about him trying to reach me from time to time. Maybe he’d spent his hush money and wanted more—though he knew at that point I had all the legal recourse to destroy him, and there was not a hope in the world he’d be able to fight back.

But I didn’t want him thinking I had anything to do with this character. And I didn’t want the scenes to go well. I didn’t want to root for this man, even if he wasn’t really Hugo.

“Was that hard to learn?”

I blinked back to the present and noticed we were very close to the café. At the red light, I glanced over at Aleric, who was staring at me from behind his oversized faux-designer shades.

“Was what hard to learn?”

He gestured at the steering wheel. “Driving like that.”

“I never learned to drive with my legs,” I reminded him. So many of my firsts came after my accident that most of my adaptive equipment was just…normal. “My brother tried to drive my car once and almost ran it into a stone wall, so it probably isn’t as easy as I make it look.” I smiled a little at the memory, and when I glanced over at Aleric, he was blushing. “Do you want to give it a try?”

“I can barely manage my own car. I’d rather not have a totaled BMW on my conscience.”

As I took the corner toward the café, my laugh turned into a snort, and for the first time, it didn’t embarrass me. “Fair enough. We’re here, by the way. This is yet another thing you have to keep in your vault of secrets.”

“It’s less of a vault and more of a water-stained manilla folder, but I will do my best,” he promised as I pulled into the back parking lot. It was hidden by a tall, vine-covered fence, and the moment I pulled into my parking space, it triggered the sensor that shut the gate.

“If you weren’t a prince, I’d think you were some kind of super-rich serial killer. Like Hannibal,” he said as I turned the car off.

I grinned. “Why can’t I be both?”

“Fair enough. Make sure someone wipes my phone browser history. I’d rather die without the world knowing I really like tentacles when I get off.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue, and it took until I saw tears rolling down his face to realize he was joking. “Dickhead,” I managed to get out.

He shrugged. “Listen, I have looked at tentacle porn. Some of it is ridiculously hot. It’s not my thing, but I see why it is for other people.”

He was so…unexpected. Every time I swore I had him figured out, he metaphorically clobbered me over the head with something new. And I was becoming increasingly obsessed with just how non-deferential he was. It wasn’t that he didn’t acknowledge my royal status. It was that he didn’t care.

He followed most of the protocols when we were together on set, but in private, I was just some guy. Some random, annoying man he didn’t like very much. A person he’d kissed and touched and—well. Everything that we’d done in that short time.

I was no different than others he’d been with.

Somehow, that mattered more than anything else.

“I know you can get your chair on your own, but would you like help?” he asked, dragging me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t realized I was still sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at the wall.

I snapped into action, shaking my head as I grabbed my wheels and my seat. Putting it together took less time than the transfer, and soon enough, I was leading the way to the small elevator.

The moment the doors opened, Aleric reached out and grabbed my shoulder, preventing me from rolling onto the platform. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

I looked up at him. “It’s not going to plummet if that’s what you’re worried about. They use this for food shipments too.”

“When was the last time it was serviced?” There was a tremor in his voice.

“Do you have a phobia?”

Swallowing heavily, he shrugged. “Probably not a phobia . Just a healthy, totally rational fear of small compartments that could send me careening to my death.”

I fought back a sigh, though it was full of affection instead of irritation, which in turn made me irritated with myself. I had no business getting soft with this man. “You can trust me, or you can take the stairs. But I’ve reached my quota of being carried for the week.”

Biting his lip, he let me go, but he kept very close to me when I rolled inside and hit the button. His tiny squeak when the car lurched made me grin, and the second it began to rise, he ducked down and snagged my hand, squeezing it hard.

Christ, I’d thought he was exaggerating. I felt a little guilty as the doors opened and he hurtled himself out, and I pretended not to notice when he pressed two fingers to his throat to feel his pulse. He looked alright, if not a bit shaky, and I would definitely be insisting on him using the stairs when we headed down.

“Breathe,” I ordered when I realized his chest wasn’t moving. I pushed my chair further into the corridor and grabbed him around the wrist. He had either gone limp noodle, or I didn’t understand my strength because with that single tug, he collapsed on my lap.

“Fuck.” His curse came out a wheezing gasp. His eyes were big and wide, and God, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t move.

“Breathe,” I said again.

He obeyed. Fuck, I loved when he obeyed.

“It’s just an elevator, and it’s perfectly safe. We survived.”

“I feel like I’m made of jelly.” Then his eyes went even wider, and he scrambled up. “Shit, sorry. That probably wasn’t comfortable.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I can’t feel it.”

“Not even this?” He gave his nicely rounded backside a pat, and I fought the urge to reach out and feel for myself if it was as firm as it looked.

My mouth watered a little, and I swallowed heavily. “Not even that. Not where you were sitting, anyway.”

Now, if he’d been sitting on my face, that would have been a totally different story, but that was a road I wasn’t prepared to go down. Not right then. Turning my chair, I gave a single hard push and rolled to the apartment door. It opened with a code, and I was relieved when it didn’t smell like old food or mold.

The place had been recently cleaned. There was even a bowl of fruit on the little breakfast nook table in the corner. It was a small little spot—barely a one-bedroom with a standing shower that I’d never been able to use—but it was perfect for afternoons when I really wanted to disappear.

I’d splurged on comfortable furniture that I could transfer on and off of without an issue, and while it felt weird to bring someone into this space that had been mine and only mine for a long time, somehow, Aleric felt good here.

He felt…right.

Like he belonged.

Maybe his role as me was getting to me a bit more than I expected.

“Why is this both bigger and nicer than my apartment?” he asked, turning in a circle. He didn’t sound angry. Just tired.

“If you’re angling for a raise, you know that’s not my department, right?”

He gave me a dark, irritated look as he shuffled over to the sofa and sat down. He sank half an inch, his brows flying up. “Where the hell did you get this, and do I want to know how much it costs?”

“No. And it was special ordered. There’s a company that makes furniture to support bodies without putting pressure on the wrong spots.” Basically, it was expensive. And difficult to find. And I knew it was maybe a shitty thing to imply, considering he was a broke actor who was just getting back on his feet and I was a prince throwing money at an apartment that I barely used.

If I wasn’t careful, the guilt would eat me alive.

“I could literally sleep here. This is better than my bed.”

I grinned, rolling into the kitchen to check the fridge situation. There was a container of what looked like iced coffee concentrate, unopened boxes of milks and creamers, some fresh fruit, and some juices that weren’t labeled.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little. I kind of abandoned my croissants when I saw you, and that was the first thing I was attempting to eat today.”

Rolling back, I leaned over in my chair. “Do you do that a lot? Is that a thing? Are they telling you to lose weight, because I will seriously have words with them if?—”

“No,” he said, laughing just a little. “I’ve gotten no notes on my weight. I have a nervous stomach, and when I’m anxious, it feels like I’ve eaten rocks.”

I grimaced as I spun, searching the cabinet for something I could give him. There were some prepackaged pains au chocolat, which weren’t the freshest, but they’d do. I tossed them on my lap, then grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the half-torn plastic package and headed back toward him.

“Probably not as nice as—what do they call it on set? The area with all the food?”

“Craft services,” he muttered as he took one of the pastries and tore open the wrapping. He shoved half into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed, and I was absolutely certain he hadn’t tasted any of it. He went back for the second half before taking the water and gulping down several mouthfuls.

Watching his throat move was mesmerizing. Lord, help me.

“So,” he said, and the tension in his voice broke my concentration like a whip crack. “Your safe space.”

Right. My safe space where no one was listening. I eyed the spot next to him, then decided fuck it. I deserved to get comfortable before I went into detail about Hugo the Destroyer—as Roget liked to call him.

Aleric shifted over when it became obvious I was going to take up space beside him, and he waited patiently as I shifted off my chair and got my legs tucked over each other. It always felt strange to sit like this.

It had taken me months in rehab to find the balance to hold myself without the most important part of my core working for me. And I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the sensation of sitting on top of half my body that I couldn’t feel.

Even when my lower half sparked with nerve pain, it was almost like it was disconnected from my limbs, like phantom body parts sending signals to my brain. My therapist used to have me sit in front of the mirror when I was having bad pain spells to force myself to see where it was coming from and examine myself as a whole instead of fractured pieces.

It helped a little back then.

Now, I gave it the occasional passing thought before sinking into my usual void of mental silence.

“Can I say something first?” Aleric asked.

“Nothing about me has ever stopped you before.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it for a breath. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I know I’m getting everything all wrong with you…”

“Aleric.”

“Mm.”

“Just ask what you want to ask.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a question. I just want to say that you don’t need to tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable. If anyone gets what it’s like to have things in their past that hurts to talk about, it’s me. I won’t be offended if you can’t do this.”

I stared at him for a long moment, almost like I was trying to read his story off his skin. But like me, he managed to wear his heart on his sleeve while keeping the rest of him locked behind iron walls.

He made me feel like I could say Hugo’s name without wanting to choke on it.

“He was my date before I knew he was my stalker.” It was maybe an unfair cold open, but I had to dive in, or I’d lose the courage to talk about Hugo at all. Aleric sat back hard enough to make the sofa frame squeak, but he didn’t say a word. I took a breath and went on. “To this day, I don’t know how he found me. I was pretty reclusive back then. But somehow, he knew I was doing volunteer work at a rehab center for kids with mobility disabilities, and he got a job doing housekeeping.”

“That’s where you officially met? I thought you said he worked for a magazine.”

“That was a lie. I didn’t want anyone knowing who he actually was,” I confessed.

“I get that. Thank you for telling me.”

I took another breath. “He told me he’d never met a wheelchair user before, but he was…he was so comfortable with me. I didn’t feel strange or awkward. Or different.”

“I understand,” Aleric said quietly. He was staring at his hands now, but I could tell from his expression he was listening. Like, he was really listening, in ways most people didn’t.

“We met up a few times in the canteen at the rehab center for shitty coffee and the one good thing they made there.”

“Marshmallow squares,” he said.

That had been in the book, though not in Hugo’s chapter. “He would always buy them for me like somehow I wasn’t a damn prince and he wasn’t a housekeeper on minimum wage.” My hands began to shake, and I dug my fingers into my thighs, desperate for more sensation just to distract myself from the pain behind my ribs. “I felt special. I felt like all the things I’d been afraid of were bullshit. We went on an official date about three weeks after we met. I wasn’t ready to tell my parents, but after our second date, I brought him home with me.”

“This is where you had your?—”

“My first time. Yeah.” Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed it back. “He was attentive. He made me feel sexy. He paid attention to my legs and my dick, but not too much attention. He was careful with the catheter. He kissed around it so I wasn’t at risk of an infection or anything.” My face bloomed hot. It felt strange telling Aleric all this—but it also felt cathartic. Only Roget knew these details. “He left before the changing of the guards, so no one else saw him.”

“Did your parents find out?”

I shook my head. “Not until—ah. Later. I was busy over the next month. A bunch of engagements and appointments. He always seemed to be nearby, which bothered me.” I tugged at the seam of my trousers. “But I told myself it was fate—it was romantic. We’d make eyes across the room, and he’d text me after. Nothing seemed odd, but also, everything seemed odd. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think I get it,” Aleric said.

He probably did. He’d probably had stalkers for years.

“He started getting a little irritated when I couldn’t make time for him, so I canceled this polo event with my brother, and we got takeout and went back to his place. He didn’t have an elevator, so I let him carry me up the stairs.”

“Shit,” Aleric breathed.

I almost laughed, but even after all these years, it still wasn’t funny. “He didn’t bring my chair up, but I told myself not to worry. I have a panic button on my phone and a GPS chip that won’t break even if the phone shatters. We were in his place for about half an hour, but he seemed…off. He kept touching my legs and my dick through my pants, and I was having an off day, so I didn’t like it, but the more I seemed to get irritated, the more it—ah…” God, why was this so hard?

“Turned him on?”

My stomach roiled, but that was the right answer. “He wanted to see me fight back—he wanted to see me struggle. It was a thing for him. He got me on the floor and pinned me. He didn’t last long, which was the better part, but when he was done, he yanked my catheter out and made me piss myself.”

Aleric’s eyes flew wide open. “What the fuck ? Tell me he went to jail.”

“I was humiliated, and I didn’t want to tell anyone that the first guy who was interested in me was some sicko with a fetish,” I told him, my voice hard and defensive. Of course he didn’t get it. Of course he would judge me. I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle. “I told him he could get me downstairs, or I could hit the panic button and have a bunch of Royal Guard members storming his flat. He chose wisely.”

For a moment, I wasn’t even sure Aleric was present in the room with me. Then he let out a slow breath. “I get it.”

Unable to stop myself, I scoffed. “It’s fine if you don’t. No one does.”

He bowed his head, and I saw something in his face that I immediately recognized. Shit. He was telling the truth.

“I was assaulted on a casting couch,” Aleric said. “Literally. I was twelve. He was…I don’t know. Forty? Fifty? I felt…grown up at the time, you know? I was allowed to drink and smoke and do whatever I wanted. I was bolder than I had any right to be at that age.”

My stomach twisted hard. Twelve? When I was twelve, I was still in goddamn short pants. “Aleric.”

“I won’t get into details, but I understand the humiliation of what you went through. He told me my fear made me a little baby. He said I was too sensitive when I started crying and that sensitive boys didn’t make it in the world of film. I believed him. I didn’t tell anyone. I was so ashamed.” Aleric’s voice cracked, and I had a sudden urge to find this man—this fucking piece of shit producer—and make sure he was unrecognizable by the time I was done with him. “I didn’t tell anyone until years later when I had my first decent therapist. I’ve worked through so much of the pain, but sometimes I get angry at myself for being so embarrassed that I kept silent and let him get away with it.”

Bowing my head, I took a breath. He did get it, and I hated that he did. I was counting on me being the only one holding that kind of weight, and the thought of him knowing what all of that felt like created a rage for him that I had never felt for myself or my own circumstances.

But now, I could speak. I could go into details because he would understand all of it.

“Cillian knew something was wrong,” I finally told him. “He knew I’d never willingly leave my chair in some random lobby. To this day, I think he’s still a little resentful that I haven’t confided in him.”

“He would have killed that man, wouldn’t he?” Aleric asked with the smallest smile.

“Yeah. He would have. Without a second thought.” I had a feeling there had been no one in Aleric’s life to notice that something was wrong. At least no one who would have stood by him, and that made my rage worse. “So, this producer?—”

“No,” Aleric said sharply. “I’m sorry, Your Highness?—”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Not right now.”

He met my gaze and held it. “Camillo.” Fuck, I loved the way my name sounded on his lips. “It’s not worth it, and there’s no point. He died about ten years ago. My therapist thinks if I speak out, other former kid actors that he hurt might come forward too, but I just—I don’t want to be the poster child for all this. That probably makes me a selfish bastard, and I get that. I can accept not being the best person in the world if it means protecting what little peace I’ve managed to create for myself.”

I couldn’t help it. I reached for him, my hand cradling his jaw. I felt him lean back and then lean in. The moment of silence between us stretched on for an eternity. “You don’t have to be everyone’s hero. Just be your own.”

He nuzzled against my palm. “Easier said than done.”

“I know.” And I did. Too well. “His real name is Hugo. Raul’s. He wasn’t tall or attractive. It wasn’t love at first sight. He just knew what I was afraid of, and knowing he had physical power over me turned him on as much as my disabled body did.”

Aleric sucked in a small breath, then let it out slowly. “Why didn’t you fight to make the scene with Raul more realistic? It’s…tender. I read the script, Camillo. It’s a love scene.”

I stared at where my skin pressed against his—the way my palm seemed to fit the curve of his jaw almost perfectly. My thumb felt heavy as it stroked a line under his eye, and his lashes fluttered downward. “Because I don’t want any part of Hugo getting his fifteen minutes of fame. And…and I wanted to let the studio reclaim that moment for me. I wanted some version of me to have the first and second time that I deserve. Even if it’s you that gets to create it.”

Aleric’s tongue—dark pink and wet—ran over his bottom lip. “Will you show me how I can make it the way you need people to see it?”

My core heated. “What are you asking me?” I didn’t really need to say those words. I knew what he was asking me, and every atom in my body was screaming yes while logic was telling me I would be breaking all my rules.

“Will anyone come up here looking for you?”

Glancing over at the door, I could see the dead bolt was set. Had I done that? Had Aleric?

“No.”

“You can tell me no if this is too much,” Aleric said. He shifted closer, pressing harder into my touch. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I never learned how to do this kindly.”

My lungs felt tight, like it didn’t want to release any air. “I don’t need kind, but I think you do.”

He laughed, and the sound was thick and heavy and so fucking sad. “I don’t think that’s my destiny, you know? I don’t inspire kindness in people.”

He was wrong. He did. But it was hard to see that when he was surrounded by monsters at every turn.

I reached for him again, pulling him close. Our foreheads knocked together. “I don’t like you.”

He laughed softly. “I know. You’re not my most favorite person in the world some days.”

But what about the other days where he could stand me a little bit?

I didn’t ask. The truth was, I was lying. I did like him, but I needed a little while longer to be dishonest with myself because this—this thing I wanted so fucking desperately—it couldn’t happen.

But I was straddling a line, and I already knew I was going to cross it again.

And then I cracked. “Let me show you what it’s like.”

Aleric took a deep breath, then eased back and met my gaze. “You just opened up about something horrific, Camillo. We don’t need to do this. Not right now.”

“What happened with Hugo hasn’t controlled my desire to be touched in a long, long while,” I told him. That much was true. Therapy had helped—and so had allowing myself to become vulnerable with other people. No one else had been like Hugo. I’d learned to spot men like him in crowds before they were able to get near me. “That part might have shaped who I am because trauma always does, but it doesn’t define me. Or what I want.”

“And you want me?” he asked with a scoff.

I traced a finger along his sharp jaw. “You have to know you’re beautiful.”

He winced like I’d insulted him, and it took me a second to realize why. “I know I am. I always have been.”

“You’re infuriating,” I added, and he blinked in surprise. I smiled. “You’re thoughtless and careless, and you hurt people, but you’re also so incredibly aware of it when it happens, and you always try to make yourself better when you fuck up.”

He licked his lips. “I?—”

“You’ve worked your ass off, and I know you don’t think anyone’s noticed, Aleric, but I have.”

His cheeks were painted red, and his mouth opened and shut like he couldn’t find words. I knew this was his weakness—not just doing his best but being told. And I wanted to bring him to his knees with it.

“You are good .”

He shuddered hard in my arms, then lost control of his body and shoved his face into my neck. He inhaled, then exhaled hot breath over my collarbone, which was so, so goddamn intense right then. I was so turned on.

“I know this can’t—that we can’t be anything,” he said, pulling back. His hands moved, and when he moved them up high on my ribs to where I could feel the pressure, I realized he was going for my tender, sensitive spots. “I don’t have expectations.”

Those words hurt. He should have them. He should expect the world to treat him the way he deserved to be treated. But he was also right. If I was just another man—just some random person hired to consult on set—maybe this could work.

But I wasn’t. I never would be. And it didn’t matter what the press said about me. If they got a hold of this, they would ruin him, and Aleric’s life had been hard enough as it was. I couldn’t add to that.

“We can have this for now,” I told him. It was the only promise I could make. “Would you like me to show you how to make me feel good?”

His pupils dilated, and he dragged his lower lip between his teeth, nodding. “Mm.”

I hooked a knuckle under his chin and held his gaze firmly. “Then pay attention. Be good…and get on your knees.”

There was a pause—three beats of my heart—and then Aleric pulled away.

And obeyed.