Chapter 8 #2
“Yeah, like you,” I agreed, fidgeting with my fork. “Otherwise, it’s kind of like being at the world’s fanciest call center. Someone wants a specific type, and The Master matches us up like some twisted dating app.”
“And your health? That's monitored?”
I nodded. “Very carefully. Regular check-ups, wellness evaluations. The Ranch takes care of its people. It’s better healthcare than my last three gigs combined, honestly.”
“Its people,” he repeated, his expression thoughtful. “And what brought you to this particular career path? If you don’t mind my asking.”
The question probed too close to Casey, to the accident, to the mountain of medical bills that kept me up at night. “Life circumstances,” I said vaguely. “It pays well. Not all of us can be born with a silver spoon and a fancy title, you know?”
He nodded, not pushing further.
“And what about you?” I asked, turning the tables. “What brings a duke to a place like The Ranch? I mean, don’t you guys snap your fingers and people appear?”
Ricard's lips quirked in a half-smile. “Finding sex has never been an issue. Finding discretion, however, is another matter entirely.” He sipped his wine, eyes distant. “In my position, every action is scrutinized. Every relationship dissected for potential political implications.”
“So this is an escape?”
“Of sorts.” He leaned back in his chair. “Hiding from real-life and real problems in the wilds of America.”
The vulnerability in his admission created a strange connection between us. “Earlier, you mentioned receiving bad news,” I said cautiously. “Is that something you want to talk about? I mean, I’m no therapist, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener. It’s the eyebrows. They look totally sympathetic.”
He studied me for a long moment, as if weighing whether to trust me with his troubles. Finally, he sighed.
“My brother,” he began, “is the crown prince of Avaline. The heir. He’s charming, handsome, with a beautiful wife and two perfect children. The picture-perfect royal family.” His tone carried a bitterness that suggested the reality was far from the image.
“But Remy’s always been a bit of a... how to put it delicately.
.. charming scoundrel. There have been rumors of indiscretions for years.
Most have been managed quietly, kept out of the press.
” He ran a hand through his hair. “But the latest... a woman has come forward claiming he fathered her child.”
“Do you think it’s true?” I asked, leaning forward.
Ricard's shoulders lifted in a resigned shrug. “With Remy? It's entirely possible. My brother has never been one for restraint or consideration of consequences.”
“That sounds familiar,” I murmured, thinking of Casey before the accident.
“You have a brother?” Ricard caught the parallel immediately.
I nodded, pushing pasta around my plate. “Older brother. Casey.”
“And he’s similarly troublesome?”
“He was,” I admitted. “Always the adventurous one, the risk-taker. The hold-my-beer and watch-this type.” The memory of Casey as he used to be, vibrant and fearless, squeezed my heart. “Now he’s... different. There was an accident.”
Ricard's gaze softened as I spoke, his expression shifting from intrigue to concern.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said quietly, leaning forward. “Accidents can change everything.”
I took a deep breath, fighting back the tightness in my throat. “Being a younger brother can be hard.”
“Oui,” Ricard agreed, twirling pasta around his fork. “The frustrating part is that I love my brother. Despite everything, despite the messes he creates that others must clean up. I want to help him, to protect him, as he always protected me when we were boys.”
Ricard sighed deeply. “But now Remy seems determined to sabotage himself at every turn. It's like watching someone you love steering deliberately toward disaster while dismissing every warning. And yet,” Ricard added with a bitter laugh, “my family acts as though my sexuality is the scandal. As though my being gay is more shameful than Remy’s string of affairs.”
“They want you to stay closeted?” I asked, surprised. “What is this, 1985?”
“The monarchy is a conservative institution,” he explained, setting down his fork.
“Tradition-bound. Change comes slowly, if at all.
My father once took me aside at sixteen, after catching me looking too long at a stable hand.
He said, 'Personal desires must never outweigh dynastic responsibilities.
' That was the entirety of our discussion about my sexuality.”
“That sounds lonely,” I said without thinking.
His eyes met mine, something vulnerable flickering in their depths. “It can be.”
We fell silent then, the admission hanging between us like a tangible thing. I understood loneliness. Since Casey's accident, it had been my constant companion.
“I'm sorry,” I said finally, meaning it. “About your brother. And your family. That's a lot to deal with.”
“Thank you, Theo,” he replied softly. “It's... refreshing to talk about it with someone who isn't calculating the political implications of every word.”
We finished our meal in companionable silence. When we’d finished, I gathered the plates without being asked.
“You don’t need to do that,” Ricard protested as I stacked dishes.
“I don’t mind,” I assured him, carrying them back inside to the kitchen. “Honestly, this is the least weird thing I’ve done all day.”
“Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you tonight?” I asked when I’d finished, turning to face him. “I mean, you’re paying for my time, so...”
He regarded me thoughtfully, and I prepared myself for the shift back to the dominant duke, bracing for some sexual command that would reset the power balance between us. “Swim with me,” he said finally, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.
It wasn't an order. It was an invitation, one I could accept or decline. In that simple request, he'd handed me a kind of power I hadn't expected to have with someone like him. For the first time since arriving at The Ranch, I didn't feel like merchandise. I felt like... me.
He nodded toward the illuminated infinity pool visible through the glass doors. “It’s heated.”
“Alright,” I agreed with a slow smile. “But fair warning. I swim about as well as I cook.”
At the edge of the pool, I hesitated, hands on the sash of my borrowed robe. The night air was surprisingly cool against my skin, and above us, the night sky sprawled in a dizzying canvas of stars. More than I'd ever seen back in California, where city lights always dulled the view.
The infinity pool stretched before me, its surface reflecting the stars like a mirror to another universe.
The edges seemed to disappear into the darkness beyond, creating the illusion that the water extended right into the night sky.
I untied the sash slowly, letting the robe fall open.
Ricard's breath caught across the pool, and I felt a weird surge of power as I walked down the steps into the warm water.
Not bad for a guy who nearly flunked out of high school gym.
A splash from the other end of the pool drew my attention. Ricard had shed his pajama bottoms and entered the water, his powerful body cutting through the surface with practiced ease as he swam toward me. He surfaced an arm's length away. “Beautiful night,” he commented, his voice low and intimate.
“Beautiful,” I agreed, though I wasn’t looking at the sky anymore.
He moved closer, closing the distance between us until we were nearly touching. I felt the heat of him even through the pool's warmth, an irresistible pull that had me drifting nearer without conscious decision.
“Theo,” he murmured, my name a caress on his lips. His hand found my waist beneath the water, fingers splaying against my skin as he pulled me toward him.
We collided, skin against skin, the water making the contact slick and tantalizing. My breath caught as his other hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “Ricard.”
This wasn’t acting. This wasn’t the performance of desire I’d prepared to give. This was real.
I wanted this man.
He lowered his mouth to mine, the kiss gentle at first, a question rather than a demand. I answered by parting my lips, inviting him deeper, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
His hands were everywhere—sliding down my back, gripping my hips, pulling me closer until my legs wrapped around his waist. He moved us through the water with powerful kicks, not breaking the kiss until my back met the smooth tile of the pool wall.
God, the strength in his body, the hard muscles of his shoulders under my hands, the tight grip of his fingers on my hips, the solid weight of him pressing against me. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice rough with desire but his eyes searching mine for real consent.
Was this okay? Was it okay that my body was practically begging for his touch? Was it okay that my heart was hammering not from swimming but from something way more dangerous?
Was it okay that I was forgetting this was a job? “Yeah,” I whispered. “Totally okay.”
His smile was breathtaking in its genuine happiness, transforming his serious features into something almost boyish, and he kissed me again, deeper this time.
His hands slid under my thighs, supporting me effortlessly as I tightened my legs around his waist. The water made us weightless, removing the barriers between us as effectively as it had washed away my hesitations.
“Please,” I heard myself say, the word escaping without conscious thought, a naked plea that had nothing to do with my role as companion and everything to do with the desperate want building inside me.
My fingers tangled in his hair, holding on as if he might disappear.
“Need you,” I moaned as he pushed inside, the initial stretch and burn giving way to a fullness that made stars explode behind my closed eyelids.
As Ricard moved within me, his breath hot against my ear, his hands holding me with both strength and tenderness, I found myself caught between two conflicting truths.
My body responded to him with an honesty I couldn't fake, while my mind whispered warnings about the dangers of forgetting why I was here.
Remember who you are, I told myself as pleasure built. Remember who he is. Remember the paycheck.
But as he whispered my name like I was something precious, those distinctions blurred like watercolors in the rain.
I pressed my face into Ricard's shoulder, inhaling the scent of his skin, trying to memorize this moment. Right now, we weren’t duke and companion, just two people connecting in the most basic way possible.
And that, I realized as my body shuddered with release, was way more dangerous than any bondage scene could ever be.