50. Freddie
Freddie
Harry hasn’t said another word about the Quentin/Sloane/contracts discussion, and I dare not bring it up.
He made it clear it wasn’t his business, and I have resolved to throw myself into the work and be the best I can possibly be.
I’ve even been early to the office twice this week, which is some sort of new record.
I’ve also been exercising like crazy to keep my brain in check, because I can’t deny that the temptation to hyper-fixate on everything is overwhelming.
Running along the river is one of my favourite forms of cardio – you can create a really nice loop using the bridges, and finishing up on Tower Bridge always feels fucking cool.
It’s the sexiest bridge in London. Maybe even in the world?
I snort to myself as I run, and before I realise it, I’m in Wapping. Cole’s street is only five minutes from here, so I jog on over, telling myself I can just stop in and get a glass of water.
I buzz the door on my way up, but I don’t give him time to answer, letting myself in with the key that sits with my own house keys. As I open the door to his flat and step over the threshold, I hear male laughter coming from the studio and my heart stops in my chest. Who the fuck is here with Cole?
I stride over to the studio, completely failing to knock as I barge in. A tall Italian-looking man in a crisp grey suit is standing next to my Cole. Cole’s eyebrows spring up as I appear, and for a moment he looks taken aback.
“Freddie, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, gesturing for me to come in. “Have you, er, been running?”
I remember then that I’m in my sweaty running gear, and that I probably stink to high heaven.
“Hey,” I say, pushing my hair off my face, and then hastily wiping it on my shorts. “Freddie Lane, nice to meet you,” I greet the stranger, sizing him up as I puff out my chest slightly.
I know I’m being an arsehole, but this Italian stallion is looking at Cole like a snack and I’m feeling territorial.
“Francesco Lamarre,” he says, shaking my hand with a warm smile. “I have just been admiring Cole’s paintings.”
It’s then that the penny drops and I remember that Cole mentioned something about the gallerist coming to see his work. Shit .
I glance at Cole, who’s frowning at me, as I stand there dripping sweat in the middle of their business meeting.
“Well, there’s a lot to admire,” I say weakly.
“Francesco, this is my boyfriend, Freddie,” Cole explains, and I feel a whoosh of dopamine flood my body. I might have called him that in front of Harry, but this is the first time he’s ever claimed me himself. I feel a pink tinge rise to my cheeks as I grin at him.
“Yes, I’m his boyfriend,” I parrot back, as Cole rolls his eyes, though there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“We have another partner too,” he adds. “Though I’m not expecting her to drop in… unannounced.”
Francesco merely smiles.
“How fortunate you both are to have been so fruitful in love, Cole.” He says it with real warmth, and I decide immediately that I like him, especially now that he knows Cole is mine .
“What a beautiful way to put it.” Cole says it with a smile, but I don’t miss the way his expression shifts when he looks to me. It’s a very much ‘What-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here?’ sort of face.
“Right-o,” I say, jovially. “I’m going to, er, hit the shower. It was so lovely to meet you, Francesco. You clearly know real talent when you see it.” I nod in the direction of the paintings, and he shakes my hand again before I slip out of the studio and pull the door closed behind me.
A possessive little shiver runs up my spine, and I feel absolutely no shame as I head to Cole’s bedroom, strip off, and get into the shower. He called me his boyfriend. Just weeks ago that would have been unthinkable. And now? Now it’s really fucking thinkable. It’s delicious .
I’m just rinsing the shampoo out of my hair when the bathroom door opens and the man in question appears.
Uh oh, Daddy’s mad .
“What the hell were you thinking?” He’s standing in the bathroom, hands on his hips as he glares at me.
“I was thinking I would pop in and see you, maybe ask for a glass of water, then run back home,” I reply, as shampoo suds cascade down my body. “And then I was thinking, who the fuck is in my boyfriend’s studio making him laugh like that.”
“Were you jealous?” he says, his eyes darkening.
“Maybe,” I reply, as I glance down at his crotch. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s feeling riled up.
“Good,” he says, resolve snapping as he jerks his trousers off and yanks his t-shirt over his head. “Move over.”
I grin as he steps into the shower and under the spray, before he pushes me back against the tiles. I flinch as the cold meets my heated skin.
“I like you being jealous, Freddie,” he says, voice low. He looks down and smirks. “Do you want to try something new?”
“Yes,” I manage to get out, just before he lines his cock up next to mine and wraps a fist around us both. “Ffffuck.”
He leans in to kiss me – slowly at first, as he strokes our cocks together – before I whimper into his mouth and his movements become more aggressive. He pulls back slightly, looking down at us in his hand.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” he mutters, as the word ‘baby’ rings in my ears. Who the fuck knew I would be such a simp for his sweet talk?
He squeezes us together and my breath hitches. It’s like a handjob on steroids. The heat of his cock against my own is sending my pulse sky-high, and I can’t take my eyes off the sight of his hand moving up and down.
“Fuck, Cole,” I breathe, feeling the tightening in my balls. He’s barely been touching me for a whole minute and I’m about to blow in his hand. “I’m close.”
“I know, I can feel it. I am too. Fuck,” he says on a deep inward breath. “Come all over me, baby.”
The words are hardly out of his mouth before I do exactly as I’m told, my orgasm erupting all over his hand, his abs, his cock just as he does the same.
I stand there, mouth open, as I look down at the mess we’ve made.
He pulls me back under the spray and it all washes away as we both pant to catch our breath.
“That was hot,” I say, once I find my voice again. “I think we need more team showers going forward.”
He puffs out a laugh and then kisses my forehead. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing Cole’s clothes and sipping a mug of tea. We’re both sat on his sofa scrolling on our phones when a text pings simultaneously on our phones.
SLOANE
Hi boys. I’m going to go and meet my dad.
I don’t want his threats to you hanging over us, Freddie.
I can’t bear the thought of you losing your job because of me.
I refuse to be responsible for causing you any pain.
I need to do this on my own, ok? I hope you both know how much you mean to me.
I’m so grateful I met you. I’ll be in touch.
Cole looks up at me as we both read it.
“Why does this text sound an awful lot like goodbye?” I say, frowning as I read it again.
“I don’t know that it does,” he replies, though he looks uncertain.
“I don’t think she should do this solo,” I reply, pulling up the Find My app. We added each other a couple of weeks ago, and I feel no shame whatsoever about stalking her movements around London.
“Freddie, she specifically said she wanted to do this on her own,” he replies as my blood pressure rises.
“She’s our girl, we can’t just let her walk into the lion’s den. Fuck my job, I’ll figure it out.”
“We said we’d go slow and not pressure her. Turning up at a meeting with her dad that she’s expressly told us she wants to do alone is not a good idea. We need to trust her.”
“But I don’t trust her!” I practically shout, as nausea roils in my gut. “I don’t trust her not to sacrifice herself for the sake of something stupid and replaceable like my job!”
Cole looks back down at the message, consternation all over his face.
“I think there’s a risk we’re jumping to conclusions here. She’s not said what she’s going to do, just that she’s going to talk to him.”
But I can hardly hear him over how hard my heart is going.
“Cole, I love her. I’m in love with her. I can’t let her go. I need her to know that. She’s got to know that before she tries to throw this away.”
“Breathe, Freddie,” he says, taking my face in his hands. “I know what you’re saying. I’m in love with her too. We can show her that when she’s finished with this conversation. It’s not like she’s going to flee the country.”
“Oh my GOD, what if she flees the country! What if she decides this is all too hard and that we’re better off without her and she just fucks off back to America like this never happened?
!” I’m yelling now, but I don’t care. In the span of thirty minutes, I’ve gone from a mind-blowing orgasm to the kind of panic that probably leads to a cardiac event.
“Fuck,” he mutters, picking up his phone. “Let’s try and be rational here. Let’s just reply and see if we can get more information.”
I watch him type as slowly as an arthritic octogenarian before snatching up my own phone.
Where are you? Don’t do anything rash. My job doesn’t fucking matter, princess. We’ll figure it out.
A second later, Cole’s message follows mine.
COLE
Are you sure you want to go alone? We can come meet you straight after?
I raise a brow at him. “That’s your idea of getting more information?”
“I don’t want to crowd her.”
“Fuck that, I’m going to go find her. She’s on The Cut. We can be there in fifteen minutes if we get a cab.”
“This is a terrible fucking idea,” he says, though he’s still grabbing his coat and following me out of the door.
Within seconds, we’re in a black cab. We’re going to go get our girl.