Page 16

SIXTEEN

LANDRY

“You’re avoiding him,” Silas said in a voice meant to intimidate.

Unfortunately for him, after dealing with Kenji’s mixed messages at brunch, followed by Zane’s heartrending phone call, the prime minister’s polite yet powerful manipulations during our meeting, and that fucking kiss in the hallway that had frayed the last shreds of my control, I was done playing the obedient pup.

“Fuck you. You have no idea what’s happening between me and Kenji,” I snapped.

There was a long pause over the phone. “I was talking about Zane. He’s been trying to call you back for two hours.”

I glanced down at the phone and watched as sweat drops slipped off my nose, splashing on the glass.

There were three missed calls from Zane, two from Bash, and a text from Silas warning me to call or I will track you down.

I tossed the phone onto the bathroom counter before peeling my soaked running shirt off, careful not to dislodge my earbuds. “I was in a meeting, then I went for a run, and you know my workout app shuts off my messages. Listen… I’m sorry. I know I’m handling all this poorly. I should have called you and told you about… well, everything… and not let you find out through the fucking paparazzi headlines. I get it. I’m an asshole. I’m just… dealing with a lot of shit right now.”

Silas’s voice softened the barest amount. “It sounds like it. But you need to know we’re not about to let you go without a fight.”

“Go?” I asked, feeling a sudden and catastrophic cavern open up in my chest. “ Go ?”

“If you think you can just flip a switch and suddenly be this Everett Davencourt earl-type guy and forget everyone who cares about you back home, you can just?—”

The dam cracked, and so did my voice. “Are you fucking kidding? You four—the Brotherhood—and Kenji, you’re… you’re my family ,” I said, feeling saliva pool in my mouth as my jaw tensed and my throat thickened. “You’re the only fucking people who know me for who I truly am. I’m not going anywhere. I can’t. I need you. Do you have any idea how much I need you? I’m fucking dying here, Silas. Jesus.”

“Hey, hey. Okay. Okay. We’re here. That’s… fuck, that’s what I was saying. You can’t get rid of us that easily. We can be there by morning.”

“No,” I said quickly. “No, please don’t. I can’t… it’s too much right now, alright? I can’t add a pack of feral billionaires to this shitshow. Please just… just give me some time. I need some time.”

Silence settled over the line as I reached for a tissue from a nearby box and swiped at my face. Thankfully, the overwhelming tide of emotion went dutifully back into its battered steel box.

“Okay,” Silas said. “But you need to call Zane and tell him you didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I didn’t!”

“I know.” He sighed. “Zane knows it, too. Just… call him. It’s important.”

He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to dial Zane’s number. Zane was the gentlest of my brothers, which made me feel that much guiltier. How could I apologize for such a huge lie of omission?

I took out my earbuds, put the phone on speaker and set it on the vanity, then perched on the edge of the tub. The cast iron was cold and solid through my damp running tights, but my stomach tumbled in free fall. Fortunately, Zane answered on the first ring.

“Thank fuck,” he blurted, sounding relieved. “Landry, I’m sorry.”

My palms slipped against the edge of the tub. “You… pardon?”

“I’m sorry.” The voice that had sold a bajillion albums sounded hoarse and congested, like he’d been crying. “I should never have ended the conversation with you the way I did. I was pissed off, but I just kept thinking what if something happened to you and that was the last thing I’d ever said, and?—”

“Zane.” My own voice came out cracked. The steel box of my emotions was showing serious wear and tear. Fuck . “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you , okay? I should have told all of you the truth before you read about it online.” I blew out a breath. “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked in a small voice. “I… I thought about it a lot after we got off the phone. I realized you never told us shit about your past. You never lied, at least, not that I can remember. And maybe we were the ones who jumped to all the conclusions?—”

“Yeah, and I didn’t correct you,’’ I admitted. “I didn’t know how.”

I took a deep breath and stood to pace. “In the beginning, I was so scared of being found out, I tried to be as different from Everett Davencourt as possible so no one would guess the truth. So I let myself become Landry Davis—a guy who said what he thought without worrying that it would reflect badly on his family, and didn’t hide that he was smart, and didn’t only get invited to parties because some kid’s dad wanted a favor from the earl. And it turned out, being Landry—being judged for who I was and not where I came from—was really fucking amazing.”

“I get that,” Zane said. “Not wanting to be judged by where you came from. Pretending things are fine when they’re not.”

“I know you do.” I leaned on the countertop with my eyes closed, but tears still burned behind my lids. “That’s why I liked you so much from the very beginning. We come from polar opposite places, but we’re the same that way.”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“And the friendships I found with you and the other guys… I’d never had that before. I’d been an awkward, spotty kid who’d grown up under a spotlight. I’d learned to pretend I was fine and keep everyone at a distance so they couldn’t see the lie for what it was. Then suddenly, I was drinking Scotch on a snowy winter’s day with these four amazing guys who thought I was funny and cool?—”

Zane let out a watery chuckle. “Eh. Debatable.”

“What? Please,” I scoffed, trying not to laugh myself. “You were in awe of my cool.”

He laughed harder. “Pretty sure no one who’s actually cool uses the phrase ‘in awe of my?—’”

“Shut it, Zane. I’m attempting emotion here, okay?”

“Poor Landry,” he teased. “Does it burn?”

“Ahem. As I was saying… suddenly, I was drinking Scotch with these three amazing guys and Zane ?—”

He laughed again, and this time, it sounded like a melody.

“You guys taught me what friendship was supposed to be about,” I continued more seriously. “You taught me it was possible to have someone care about me without knowing who my family was. That it didn’t matter who my family was. Then you guys and Kenji became my family. And for years, I’ve been terrified that if you found out the truth, you’d hate me for not telling you sooner, or you’d think differently of me, and I’d be alone again. So I…”

“Kept it a secret?” he said. “I get that, too. Landry, man, our whole Brotherhood has been keeping a secret for years. But you’re not supposed to keep them from us , dumbass.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I figured that out.” I stretched my neck from side to side and finally opened my eyes. Late-afternoon sunlight I hadn’t even registered earlier shone through the window, and the room seemed brighter than it had before.

“You should know by now that we’d love you no matter where you came from, Landry,” Zane went on. “You’re a hard worker. And smart. And kind. And yes, cool . But those things probably came from somewhere. From some one . And that’s important, too.”

I stared at the old brass fitting on the window clasp, fashioned into the shape of an elephant long ago. They’d been a gift to one of my ancestors from a visiting Indian diplomat as a symbol of protection for our home, and every window in my suite had them. My hand knew the shape of them without looking, the way they retained winter’s chill even in summer. The metallic scent they left on my fingers. The cock-eyed stare of the one closest to my favorite spot in the window seat.

Important . Yes. My history was important. I’d spent years learning of its importance.

“Wasn’t your mom from Connecticut?” Zane asked. “You mentioned it once when we asked about your accent.”

I reached out to feel the elephant on the window latch. “Yes. Danbury. My grandfather was still alive when we were at Yale. I stayed with him one Christmas.”

“What was your mom like?”

It occurred to me I could finally speak more openly about my past with the Brotherhood, but old habits of holding personal details close to the vest were hard to break.

“She was amazing.”

“Tell me something specific. Do you have a memory of her doing something… oh, I don’t know… admirable?”

Why was he doing this? Weren’t there more interesting questions he could be asking me about everything? Hell, he hadn’t even asked me what was going on between me and Kenji.

“She loved birds,” I said, pulling an old memory out of the battered box in my mind. “Pet birds. We had a giant birdcage in the family room, and those fuckers never shut up. She would talk to them. Sing to them in hopes of getting them to sing back.”

“Birds. Well, that’s not my preference for pets, but if she wanted birds…”

“No, that’s just it. She never got them for herself. She never set out to have a bird as a pet. She heard about someone who needed to rehome a bird, and she couldn’t resist helping. ‘Temporarily.’” I let out a laugh, remembering her stammering explanation to my father and the way he smiled at her with exasperated affection. “Then someone else needed another bird rescue and so on and so forth until the cage took up half the room and our eardrums wanted to burst.”

I could hear the smile in Zane’s voice. “Does your father still keep them?”

The elephant’s chill had warmed under my touch. I traced a fingertip along the curve of its trunk before turning away. “No. They’ve all gone on to their sanctuary in the sky. And thank fuck because they really were a nuisance.”

“She sounds sweet,” he suggested.

“Yes. Unless it came to catching me with a hand in the biscuit tin after dinner. Or, god forbid, left the house without giving her a peck on the cheek. It didn’t matter if I was late and someone important was waiting.”

Zane let the air still between us for a beat. “She wanted to remind you what was important.”

“Family,” I murmured.

“Love,” he corrected gently. “Connection. Affection. People.”

I cleared my throat in hopes of dispelling the emotion there. “I hate you and all that you stand for, Zane Hendley.”

“I love you more than you can know. My lord.”

The call ended to the sound of his snickering.

I took a quick shower and threw on a bathrobe before settling into the window seat and sending Silas a text to let him know I’d called Zane and been forgiven, mostly because Zane was the forgiving type with a heart bigger than the night sky.

Silas’s reply was instant.

Silas

Good. Now call the others. Remember we’re only a plane ride away.

I wasn’t sure if that was a threat or a promise, but it made me grin anyway. I moved through contacting the remaining two members of the Brotherhood.

My call with Bash surprised me.

“I knew something didn’t add up,” he said. “There were a few times you said things that just… sounded wrong. When Dev tried to introduce us to polo, you were especially weird. But I remember you saying, ‘That’s a fine bit of tack,’ as if you knew what the fuck we were looking at.”

I winced. “I’m shit at riding horses, but I did try polo once when I was younger.” I didn’t explain this had happened at an event arranged by the Palace at Guards Polo Club for a group of young lads in the peerage. “It was fine until I bashed my own boot with the stick.”

We chuckled over shared memories of similar polo injuries Dev had experienced over the years.

“We miss you, Landry,” Bash said after a few minutes.

Before I could return the sentiment, he added, “But I want to hear about what’s going on between you and Kenji.”

I should have known Bash would be the one to ask the question no one else had dared to ask. He took his role as big brother of our group seriously.

I rolled my eyes and pressed the bridge of my nose between two fingers. “Join the queue, Sebastian.”

“Listen, it’s been obvious to the rest of us that there’s something going on between the two of you, but I also know Kenji thinks he can’t trust you. If you want him to give you a chance, you need to prove to him you’re dependable and true.”

I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t ask for advice about my so-called love life. In case you haven’t seen the entire fucking internet today, I have bigger shit going on right now than navigating Kenji’s impossible requirements for potential life partners. Like, for example, convincing the world we’re already married and that I’d be a good candidate for MP.”

“Which brings me to my next question,” he said dryly. “You’re running for office? I wasn’t aware you were interested in politics.”

“I’m not,” I bit out.

“Mm.”

I stood up and paced, feeling the familiar dips and lumps in the ancient rug under my bare feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about all of this.”

“You already apologized,” Bash said with a calm I didn’t feel.

“But you can’t understand the familial expectation and pressure I’m under.”

“No. Probably not.”

“Besides, it’s different now. After some reform in the past twenty-five years, it’s not like I just get handed the seat. I’d have to be selected from a hand-picked group of qualified people with impeccable connections. I have zero chance.”

There was a beat of silence that probably only meant he was reaching for his water bottle or something, but I interpreted it as judgment.

“They won’t pick me because everyone else will be more qualified,” I clarified.

“Mm,” he said again.

I clenched my teeth to keep from continuing my inane excuses.

“Landry,” he said. “I’m sure you know more about English parliamentary by-elections, but if they’re anything like… oh, I don’t know… any other election in the history of humanity , has it occurred to you that someone who is popular, wealthy, beautiful, and carries the historic significance of your ancestry might have several legs up over candidates with stronger political resumes?”

He was right. Moreover, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t considered already during the sleepless hours of the past few nights and during my conversation with Teddy earlier.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to break fifteen generations of tradition?” I asked with a humorless laugh. “Here I was hoping I wouldn’t get selected because I’m laughably unfit for the position. It would be a nice, clean solution in which the powers that be break the tradition for me. But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll get elected. Not four hours ago, Teddy Baines assured me he had a plan to get me in that seat with zero chance of failure.”

Which was why I was having a crisis of conscience, even without the so-called help from my good friend.

“What do you want, Landry?”

I pulled my knees up and wrapped an arm around them, leaning my head down against the soft cotton of my robe. “I want Kenji Toma to be mine,” I admitted softly. “I want to move to Majestic and be surrounded by friends and family. I want to make Kenji’s wildest dreams come true. See Lellie grow up and maybe have my own kids who can grow up with her. Watch Dev finally shake his grief and Silas wear Way’s cowboy hat unironically. I want to stay connected to my father and my family here in England and raise my kids to know their family history without feeling any pressure to serve it.”

Bash let silence settle between us again. He’d always been good at letting silence do the talking in business meetings, and now I felt the power of its impact.

When he finally spoke, I was surprised by the words.

“If you plan on having kids one day, what will your choices in this moment teach them ?”

His question echoed in my mind and heart as we ended the call and I moved into my dressing room.

As soon as I entered the familiar space, I stopped short. Kenji’s meager collection of clothes hung in a previously empty spot, and the running shoes I’d picked up for him were neatly placed at the end of my own row of shoes.

I walked over and pressed my face into the fabric of the long-sleeved half-zip he’d been wearing when he was rescued. It had been washed, of course, so it smelled of Hawling House laundry soap. There was no trace left of Kenji’s own scent or the Tide pods he used back home.

I was tempted to slide the garment over my bare skin, to flaunt the casual use of his clothes when I went downstairs, but I wouldn’t dare. This and his running tights were the only articles of clothing he had of his own, and I could tell how much that bothered him.

After quickly throwing on a pair of trousers and a sweater, I called Dev. Thankfully, that call went way more smoothly, thanks to his distraction with Lellie who was playing in the background.

“I wish you’d told us,” he said. “But I also understand. Grief is a heavy weight to carry, Landry. Sometimes the hardest things we face are the easiest to hide.”

His words, like Bash’s, stayed with me as I made my way downstairs to meet with Nan about tomorrow’s sports day appearance.

Thankfully, Kenji was off shopping with Cora, so I was able to focus on Nan’s words and learn all there was to know about the three schools involved, the Davencourt Foundation’s history of programs like this one, the plans for future program expansion, and the names of all the key players I’d need to remember when I arrived.

“Now, let’s go over your speech,” Nan said, watching me carefully for my reaction.

I shot her a happy smile. “Don’t worry, I’m too busy plotting Cora’s downfall to blame you for this little detail. I’m well aware that she would normally be the one giving this speech.”

Nan tsk ’d me. “It’s important for you to get the opportunity to speak of important issues so people can see you’re more than a pretty face. I’m going to introduce you to Ned Pinchon, who’s been selected to help write your statement to the voting members in the by-election. He’s also taken a stab at your speech for tomorrow. The two of you can spend the rest of the afternoon sorting those things out.”

The remainder of the day was more excruciating than the rest of the day had been, which was saying something. Ned was a fine man with excellent skills, but he took his job incredibly seriously. By the time I was called into dinner, my head was throbbing.

The throbbing turned to a relentless pounding when the first person I saw in the dining room was my Aunt Lydia.

“Darling! I’m thrilled you’ve finally finished that American modeling nonsense and are home for good.”

I gave her the expected air-kisses before glancing around to find Reg’s new sous chef setting a few serving utensils on the sideboard and Kenji standing alone nearby, pretending to admire a portrait of the ninth earl and his hunting dogs. I glanced back at Aunt Lydia. “Have you met Kenji yet?”

She tilted her nose up almost imperceptibly. “No, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

I moved over to place a hand on Kenji’s back, and he turned toward us. A mask of politeness fell over his features, dropping the temperature of the room a few degrees.

A small frown of worry creased the sous chef’s face as she glanced between Kenji and Lydia, indicating some unspoken tension in the room.

“Aunt Lydia, may I introduce Kenji Toma? Kenji, this is my aunt, Lydia Davencourt. Cora’s mother.”

Lydia gave a perfunctory nod and fake smile without offering her hand. “I see. And you are Landry’s assistant, correct?”

Kenji stumbled against my side, making me aware that I’d pulled him closer without noticing.

“Yes, ma’am,” he began, the edge of his mouth curling up dangerously. “I assist him in quite a few things, actually.”

The words were laden with innuendo.

Kenji’s hand landed on my chest as he turned and shot me an adoring look. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, surprising a breath out of him. Unlike our earlier kiss in the hallway, when I’d grabbed the man the way a drowning man gasps for air, heedless of anyone around us, this kiss was definitely intended for an audience. But it still lasted long enough for me to make my aunt uncomfortable, to establish Kenji was more than my employee, and to remind Kenji that even though I was angry at him and I was confident he was still angry with me, I was on his side no matter what.

When my aunt made a sniff of disapproval, I pulled back and met Kenji’s eyes. My sweater was tangled in his grip, and his lips were shiny from the tip of my tongue. “Hi,” I murmured softly. “Are you okay?”

He nodded silently, his eyes wide and a little dazed.

“Good.” I turned back to Aunt Lydia but kept an arm around Kenji’s waist. “I thought we weren’t expecting you back from the Maldives until just before the Hearts of Hawling Dinner?”

She waved a manicured hand in the air. “Don’t be daft. I obviously cut my trip short as soon as I heard your news. We need to present a united front as a family if you’re to take up your place in the Lords. I can help plead your case, especially to the MPs’ wives. You do know I’m on the membership committee of the Mayfair Ladies’ Philanthropic League with Caroline Langhurst. Her husband is deputy leader. And I play tennis with Harriett Goldsmith on Tuesdays. Her brother is Lord Tremayne, senior deputy chairmen of… oh, I don’t remember.”

“Economic affairs,” Kenji murmured politely.

I stared at him as Cora came bustling in. “Sorry, I’m late. Nan and Uncle Ed are right behind me.”

Sure enough, my father and Nan completed our group. As soon as Dad reached his spot at the head of the table, he smiled and nodded at everyone in turn. “Welcome home, Lydia. Cora, nice to see you taking a break for once. Kenji, I hope your first foray into the lion’s den wasn’t too taxing. Everett, I had a call from Teddy this afternoon, full of praise and excitement about your willingness to help out. And Nan.” His face softened into familiar affection. “If I haven’t told you yet today, you’re looking particularly lovely in that green. It sets off your eyes and reminds me of the Yorkshire dales in spring. Everyone, please be seated.”

I stared at him, barely remembering to help my aunt with her chair before turning to do the same for my cousin. Unfortunately, Kenji was on the opposite side of the table from me, making up the traditional boy-girl seating order most of us had naturally drifted toward.

Before I had a chance to study Nan and my father more closely, my aunt began her interrogations.

“I thought this—” She waved a hand between Kenji and me. “—was all for—”. She abruptly stopped speaking when the sous chef, who was clearly acting as server tonight, entered the dining room to begin serving the wine.

Aunt Lydia cleared her throat. “What I meant to say is, what do we know about the by-election, Everett dear? Has Teddy given you any idea of timing?”

At least this was a topic I could speak on. I explained the situation, my meeting with Teddy, his expectations for the process, and the PR campaign with the Winthrops.

“I don’t understand,” Lydia asked, setting her wineglass down carefully before allowing a carefully filled salad plate to be set in front of her. “Why are the Winthrops involved? What use have we for American new money?” She flicked a glance at Kenji. “No offense, Kenji.”

His dark eyes widened, and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t speak to oppose or excuse her.

“ I’m offended,” Cora interjected with a polite smile on her face. “Jamie Winthrop is a nice guy. We’ve met several times at London Funders meetings. The Winthrop Foundation is doing good work with?—”

Aunt Lydia made a huff of impatience. “Yes, yes. Fine. My point is they’re not involved with Parliament or the peerage. Why would they have anything to do with a Davencourt PR campaign?”

Kenji surprised me by speaking up. “Jamie and I returned together from San Cordova. The media is interested in some feel-good stories, and the PR team thought it would be a great way of getting Landry some positive press coverage. Two birds, one stone. Landry gets plenty of play as a doting husband, a caring friend, and an all-around good guy, without ever having to mention politics or Parliament.”

Cora grinned. “Exactly.”

Aunt Lydia seemed unable to counter his point, so she simply nodded before poking a bit at her salad. “Cora, dear, speaking of London Funders, Sir Malcom was asking after you. It turns out he is newly single after a breakup with… oh, what was her name? The one who showed too much décolletage at Ascot last year. Anyway, it hardly matters. He said he is looking forward to the Hearts of Hawling Dinner and hopes you’ll save him a dance or two. Isn’t that nice?”

“No, thank you, mother. Sir Malcom is not my type. Besides, I’ll be too busy running around putting out fires to promise anyone a dance.”

We spent the rest of the salad course with the two of them politely bickering about various titled men Cora should consider as husband material in the near future. By the time the main course was served, she’d poked me in the side of the thigh under the table with her fork twice.

I squawked the third time, finally realizing what she was attempting. “Yes, fine. So, ah, Nan… tell me about…” I inhaled, trying desperately to think about a new subject matter to introduce.

“Birds,” Kenji finally suggested. “And cats. Cora told me about the birds Olivia used to keep. Was Turkey around for any of that? If so, what did she think of them?”

Cora and I both shot him a look of gratitude as Nan began telling stories of the various animals who had inhabited Hawling House in the past couple of decades. In addition to saving us from more pointed questions from Lydia, it also made my father laugh, which was always good.

Unfortunately, it only lasted until the dessert course, when Lydia interrupted to pepper Kenji with questions about his background.

By the time the table had been cleared, my thigh was bruised from Cora’s fork, I’d called my aunt a regrettable name, and Kenji’s teeth were probably broken from biting back retorts to her rude questions.

None of that did a damn thing to distract me from the way I felt every time I looked at Kenji. There was something about seeing the man in his element, calmly parrying jabs and answering questions with calm efficiency, that was hot as fuck. I’d had my hands and lips on him three times that day, and it had only whet my appetite for more.

I was still too angry at him—and at myself—to actually do anything about it, though.

I said good night as politely as I could, rounded the table, and grabbed Kenji’s hand before pulling him up the stairs to my… our … room.

“I am so fucking sorry,” I said as soon as we were alone.

Kenji shrugged as he headed toward the dressing room, his slender shoulders and movement graceful as always. “She’s a product of her upbringing like the rest of us.”

“I had a similar upbringing, Kenji, and I hope to hell I wouldn’t be rude enough to ask someone how they could afford college.”

I followed him into the dressing room to grab workout clothes. My hope was to do enough squats and leg curls that I would barely be able to hobble to bed later, much less fantasize about squatting over Kenji and railing him into the mattress. Maybe I could linger upstairs in the workout room long enough for him to fall asleep.

He shrugged again. “At least she seemed stymied a bit when I explained I’d paid for my degree with chess winnings. I didn’t tell her they were from gambling with other students rather than taking prize money in tournaments.”

“I love that story. Your grandmother told me—” I bit off the words, realizing he still didn’t know I’d snuck down to Florida while he was in San Cordova.

He finished pulling his sweater off. “My grandmother?”

“No, sorry, I meant to say your grandmother was the one who encouraged you with chess, right? I remember you telling me about it.” My face heated with the lie, so I turned away and busied myself in the far side of the room, rooting through a drawer for my kit.

“Yeah. She used to punish me by making me play against her. I loved it, though.”

I turned to look at him over my shoulder, noting the long line of his back, the protruding angles of his shoulder blades, the way his waist nipped in, causing his trousers to sit low on his hips. The barest hint of an elastic band was visible over the waistband of the pants.

I stared at the rounded muscles of his ass, filling out the fabric and complementing the drape. My hands knew the shape of him and itched to cup and squeeze and caress. To move up his smooth back and into his shiny, dark hair.

“…cares about you. At least, I assume so.”

I blinked and replayed his words. “Oh, Aunt Lydia? No. She cares about her reputation. She’s nice enough, don’t get me wrong. She’s actually very loving and protective toward Cora, and she was in love with my uncle when he died. But unfortunately, she runs with a crowd that’s all about status and rank. Her mother was the same way, pushed her on my uncle until he couldn’t help but give in. They were lucky, though. The two of them made it work and eventually fell in love. Cora got sick when she was a baby. Supposedly, that brought my aunt and uncle closer.”

I swallowed and remembered I was trying to keep my distance from Kenji, not tempt myself with sweet treats that were off-limits. “Anyway, Lydia’s biggest goal in life is marrying Cora off to a title so she can go through her highlight reel all over again. Kids in all the fancy schools, exclusive invitations to the inner circle, lavish wealth and society intrigue, and blah blah.”

He bent over at the waist and pushed his pants down, leaving me staring breathlessly at the cotton-covered bulge between his legs. Floaty bits of dust motes filled my head, and it took me a minute to realize he was saying something.

“Huh?” I said, licking my lips.

He turned and flicked his long hair over one shoulder. His small brown nipples puckered in the chill space, and his winter-pale abs tightened as he twisted at his waist to reach for the pajama pants on the nearby counter.

“I said thank you for defending me.” He slid his long legs into the loose pants one leg at a time like a goddamned torturer from medieval times. “You didn’t need to do that, but I appreciate it.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and my dick pounded in my pants. I held my workout clothes in a ball in front of me before quickly leaning over to grab my running shoes. “Yeah, sure.”

“Landry… can we talk?” A flush rode high on his cheekbones. “I have some things I need to say?—”

“I, uh. Maybe later. I’m going to work out right now.”

“But you already ran today. Don’t you think—?” His eyebrows scrunched in concern, and he reached out a hand to touch my arm.

I jumped away like he was contagious because it was that or throw him down on the bed.

“No!” I said a bit too loudly. “No. Thank you, but I know what I’m doing. Just… make yourself at home, and I’ll…”

I gave up trying to find words and raced out of the room, up the stairs, and into the workout room before stripping off my dinner clothes and yanking on my athletic kit. I started with jumping jacks to warm up my muscles and punish my dick. By the time my muscles were loose, my cock was heavy and strangled in my tight pants.

“Fuck!” I adjusted myself and moved to the leg press machine. With every rep, I forced myself to imagine Aunt Lydia flirting with a young drinks attendant in the Maldives until my pants were loose and my stomach was vaguely nauseated.

Then I yanked out my phone and changed the song. Tank’s “When We” moved slow and sultry through my earbuds. I used the pace to control my muscles, to focus on lowering my knees toward my chest as slowly as possible, holding it for a beat while it burned, and then shoving the plate up, pushing through my heels and squeezing my ass. I watched the muscles of my quadriceps contract and stretch.

With every repetition of the word fuck , I ground my teeth together, remembering.

Remembering the feel of Kenji’s body as he let me in. As he begged me for more.

As he let me into his body.

While doing his best to keep me the fuck out of his heart.