Chapter 2
TWO
Joshua had only just settled into Mo’s colossal sofa when his phone rang. Accepting a beer, he used his free hand to fumble the phone out of his trousers, surprised to see Leo’s name flash across the screen.
It had been a mere twenty minutes since they’d talked. Surely Nate hadn’t found anything quite this quickly? Oh God, had they found something? Was there a chance this nightmare was over before the sun set?
Tucking the beer between his thighs, Joshua picked up the phone and struggled to think of a casual opening, something that wouldn’t make him sound too desperate. “Miss me already?”
Oh, great. Now he’d come across as a different kind of desperate.
If anyone had the skill to make silence seem loudly unimpressed over the phone, Leo Graham was that person.
Joshua cringed. Sure, Leo had been a bit of a judgmental prick throughout part of their meeting, so it wasn’t as though he could complain too much about Joshua skirting the edges of appropriate behaviour, but—uh. Two wrongs didn’t make a right.
“Sorry,” Joshua mumbled when five seconds had passed and Leo had yet to utter a word. Mo flicked Joshua a curious glance as he dropped onto the sofa next to him, poking him with a foot.
“I believe,”—Leo’s tone was as dry as the Sahara—“we’re still at a stage in our acquaintance where I can go ten minutes without talking to you.
In addition, I’m a strong, independent woman, and while you may have the curly locks of Prince Charming, I have yet to see you ride a white stallion. This is not that fairy tale.”
“I’ve got a white mare,” Joshua told him, and really, he should stop and direct this conversation back onto normal territory. “Surely that counts? Otherwise, it would be sexist.”
To Joshua’s surprise, Leo gave a quick, curling laugh. “All right, Princeling. I’m sure you’re a fantastic rider. Far be it from me to question it. Them. Your, ah…”—a tiny pause—“riding skills.”
Had Leo just—really? How had they gotten caught up in a round of Innuendo Bingo?
And how was Joshua supposed to think of a good retort when his brain was wiped blank, heat pooling low in his belly at the thought of straddling Leo’s hips, holding himself up above him and—stop.
Joshua needed to stop. There was a good chance he was reading more into this than he should.
He’d likely been silent for too long, because Leo spoke again, tone brisker than before. “Your collection of horses aside, I’m actually calling with a question. Can you give us a list of people who know you’re gay?”
The way Leo said the words as though they meant nothing—you’re gay; the grass is green; look, it’s a rainy day in London, now there’s a surprise—settled strangely in Joshua’s chest. Leo made it sound so easy, so natural, when there were nights Joshua had fallen asleep wishing he’d wake up normal, would meet a nice girl and fall in love, get married in a splendid ceremony at Westminster Abbey and live up to expectations.
No such luck, of course. And while puberty had been hard, he’d mostly come to accept what he couldn’t change. Hearing a near-stranger casually put it out there was new, though. Not necessarily in a bad way, just… new.
“Yes, of course.” Joshua sucked in a breath to counteract the tight clench of his chest. “Not many people know, so it will be a short list. Give me five minutes, and I’ll text it to you.”
“Thanks, that would be helpful.”
“Okay.” Hesitating, Joshua wondered whether there was anything else, but he couldn’t think of a reason to keep Leo on the line any longer. Leo had things to do anyway, and Mo was studying Joshua with an amused quirk to his mouth, wiggling his naked toes against Joshua’s thigh.
“So, I’ll call you if there’s news,” Leo said.
“Yes, please. And I’ll send you that list.” Joshua squeezed Mo’s ankle before he reached for his beer, the bottle damp and cool against his palm. “You can call me anytime, okay? If you find something, please let me know right away?”
“You say ‘please’ a lot,” Leo remarked, a glint of amusement to his voice. It was hard to tell whether it was criticism or a roundabout compliment, so Joshua went for a neutral tone.
“I wasn’t raised by wolves.”
“If you had been, I’d have asked for pictures. Talk to you later, Princeling.” Again, Leo laughed quietly, and Joshua couldn’t tell whether it was at or with him.
“Yes. Later.” Another moment passed, then the connection was cut off, and Joshua lowered the phone, staring at it for a beat.
Princeling. Huh. Leo was so… weird. Yes, weird.
A confusing mix of cheeky and withdrawn, professional, dismissive and approachable; a whole world of adjectives to describe a person Joshua had only just met.
“If a guy calls me Princeling…”—Joshua gave Mo a sideways glance and paused to sip at his beer—“is he flirting with me? Or would you consider it an insult? Like, the historical context is nasty, but I don’t think… I don’t think he means it like that? More like little prince, or something?”
“Depends.” Mo poked Joshua’s thigh once more, for good measure, then tucked his cold toes in against the back of Joshua’s knee. “Could be teasing, could be flirting, could be derogatory. I mean, Tristan and I call you that when you act all posh around us.”
“You’ve known me for ages, though.”
“How long’ve you known this one, then?”
“Met him this morning. He’s part of James Boyle’s team.
” Joshua slid a fingernail under the label on the bottle, began peeling off one corner as he continued.
“We didn’t have the best start since he’s not a fan of…
being born into privilege, is how he put it.
But I think we have a truce now. Sort of friendly. ”
“Sounded friendly enough to me, from what I heard.” Mo took a long pull of his beer and slid further into the cushions, his ratty, paint-splattered top rucking up over his stomach.
Even so, his high cheekbones and classically beautiful face made him look more like a fairy-tale prince than Joshua did on his best days.
“He gay?” Mo asked into Joshua’s thoughts.
“Yes. Out and proud.” Joshua shrugged one shoulder and looked away, at the enormous telly they had yet to turn on. “He thinks I’m a coward for hiding.”
“You’re not a coward,” Mo said, suddenly harsh.
“Don’t let anyone call you that, J. That’s not on.
It’d be harder for you than it would be for most.” He frowned, touching Joshua’s elbow.
“It’s not the same. Like, for me, it’s not that tough, you know?
First shot I did for Lagerfeld was all dripping with homoerotic tension, and if I officially come out as bi, no one will give a shit after the first excitement blows over. ”
“Are you thinking about it?” Joshua asked.
“At some point. I’m not in a hurry. It’s not like there aren’t rumours already.” Mo paused before he went on, quiet and gentle. “For you, it’d be different. It’d come up again, and again, and again. It’d be tough, given the public interest in your life.”
“Yeah. That’s definitely part of it.” Joshua exhaled on a sigh before he tilted sideways, into Mo’s solid support.
Now that Joshua thought about it, they’d never really talked about the topic in any detail.
Like Tristan, Mo had always seemed to get it without Joshua needing to squirm through an explanation.
The closest they’d ever come to a discussion was probably after the first time they’d ended up in bed, and Joshua had felt incredibly awkward when he’d said, “You know, though, that it’s not, like…
I’m not looking to date anyone. Like, a guy.
Our friendship’s great, and I don’t want things to get messy just because—this is good, yeah? ”
Mo had thrown his head back and laughed around his cigarette, slinging an easy arm around Joshua’s naked waist. “Don’t worry, babe. This was fun, but I’m not looking to become your princess. Think we’re both a bit young to settle down, yeah? Friends first, rest’s a nice bonus.”
And that had been that. Mo had gone through a string of lovers, with Joshua as a recurring one, and Joshua had gone through Mo. It worked for them.
“I love you a lot,” Joshua said, apropos of nothing, and Mo laughed into his hair.
“Same, Curly. You’re my very favourite royal.”
“Don’t let Emma hear you say that,” Joshua advised.
“Far be it from me to offend your lovely and, frankly, scary sister.”
Joshua took another sip of beer, the liquid cool and bitter on his tongue, before he tucked himself further in against Mo’s side. “You know the whole… public scrutiny thing is not the only reason, right?”
Mo’s attempt at an answer was cut off by the doorbell. “Hold that thought,” he said, winding himself out from under Joshua’s weight. Joshua’s disgruntled noise and grabby hands were rewarded with a flick on the nose, then Mo left the room to buzz up either Tristan or the pizza delivery person.
Joshua took the opportunity to type up the list for Leo.
By the time he sent it off, there was a mix of voices drifting in from the stairway—it seemed as though their food had arrived at the same time as Tristan and was now getting the bodyguard stamp of approval from Johnson.
Hopefully, Mo would tip the poor delivery guy well.
Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, Joshua set his beer down on the floor and rose from the sofa to fetch some plates and cutlery.
He ran into Tristan in the corridor and found himself pulled into an immediate headlock.
With his face shoved into Tristan’s armpit, he fought to free himself as he flailed his hands and muttered about deodorant and regular showers.
“Love you, bitch,” Tristan told him, and let go.
Joshua stepped back and stuck out his tongue, then felt his mouth twitch up into his most genuine smile of the day.