Page 17

SEVENTEEN

KENJI

I’d fallen asleep on the sofa in Landry’s room, with one of his pillows under my head and his extra blanket over me. But when I awoke in the middle of the night with a full bladder, I was curled against his warm body like a sleepy but aggressive octopus.

I unpeeled my tentacles and snuck out of the bed.

“Baby,” he murmured in a sleep-roughened voice. “Y’okay?”

My heart stopped before dropping into an embarrassing swoon as I said a quick “Yeah, gotta pee” and disappeared into the bathroom.

The marble tile was cool under my feet, a stark reminder that this wasn’t Landry’s luxury penthouse in Manhattan, where the bathroom floors had radiant heat. I emptied my bladder and moved to the sink, blinking at myself in the mirror in the dim light from the street coming in through the nearby window.

My hair was a rat’s nest, and the T-shirt I’d stolen from Landry to sleep in was twisted around my neck. I straightened it and threaded my fingers through my hair before taking a long drink of water out of the tap.

“The sofa,” I said firmly to my reflection.

But he’s the one who moved me to the bed , I reminded myself.

“He was being a gentleman.”

He’s warm , I whined. And lovely. And sweet. And he might need comfort after that conversation with Zane.

“Boundaries,” I hissed at mirror-Kenji. “You weren’t supposed to overhear that. And he’s angry at you. And he didn’t ask for a roommate.”

All of that was true.

None of it made the choice easier.

When Cora and I had nipped home midway through our shopping trip yesterday so I could drop off some purchases and grab a scarf, no one had warned me Landry was back from his run. I’d rushed upstairs and thrown open the door to his— our —suite, lost in thought and still low-key angry about Landry’s lies and his Parliament run and that toe-tingling, performative kiss in the hallway.

Then, I’d heard Zane’s laughter coming from the bathroom, followed by Landry’s emotion-soaked voice saying, “ 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. ”

My heart had squeezed hard—we’re talking cardiac-event-hard—and I’d had to fight the urge to go into the bathroom and wrap my arms around Landry.

But of course, I hadn’t. After all, I wasn’t the one he’d chosen to get emotional with, was I?

No, I was the one he’d avoided talking to for days, except when the cameras were on, like whatever feelings he’d had for me had withered and died?—

Landry shuffled into the bathroom behind me and caught me staring at myself.

“Get in the fucking bed,” he muttered as he headed straight for the toilet, “or neither one of us is going to sleep.”

I scurried out of the bathroom and dove into the bed. It was warm and soft. Heavenly.

And it smelled like my favorite combination of Landry and Kenji.

Fuck.

“Stop thinking so loudly,” he grumbled, yanking back the duvet, climbing over me with no care for my personal space, and yanking the duvet back over us. “It’s two in the morning. Apparently, I have to do sports in a few hours.”

“You like sports,” I reminded him, curling automatically around him again as if controlled by the feral octopus. I had no idea what kind of bed-sharing detente this was, but I wasn’t going to question it.

Landry’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer, tucking my head under his chin. “Not in London in February, I don’t.”

He was shirtless. My cheek tickled from his chest hair. I moved my face until I found a more comfortable spot.

“You’re a nuzzler,” he said, slipping back into sleep.

As soon as I opened my mouth to say, “No I’m not,” he said the exact words along with me. No I’m not.

I sucked in a breath.

“Why can’t you admit you like to cuddle?” he asked, turning us around so he was spooning me with his knees under mine and his arm holding my wrist against my chest in a loose grip. “You’re so fucking obstinate.”

“No I’m…” My voice trailed off as I fell into his trap. His chuckle vibrated against my back.

He pressed a kiss against my hair. “You’re an elephant. Like the one guarding my windows.”

This made zero sense. I couldn’t think of an animal I was less like, and as far as I knew, elephants had nothing to do with windows. “You’re already asleep, aren’t you?” I asked, amused.

“Thick skin, nosy as fuck, highly intelligent, and… maternal.”

I snorted. “Maternal makes me sound like a harried woman trying to get five misbehaving, sticky-fingered children into a minivan at the same time.” I paused. “Come to think of it…”

His thumb holding my wrist made a gentle swipe over the center of my chest. “You mother all of us. You fuss and manage. Protect. Herd. Defend. Lead. It’s nice.”

A few minutes of silence fell when I didn’t have the words to respond. Just when I thought he was asleep, he murmured, “You’ll make a good father someday.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “Do you want kids?” It was the first time I’d ever asked him outright, and I asked it so softly I wasn’t sure it was even loud enough to be heard. But the only response was the rhythmic sound of his breathing.

I lay there wondering what the fuck this midnight interlude even meant. Was he still mad at me? Hurt? What did this mean for the two of us?

What did I want it to mean?

I tried to remember a time when we’d shared a bed all night without fucking. There’d been a night on a ski trip in Park City, Utah, when I’d brought some documents to his room to get signed and he’d been hot with a fever. I’d stayed next to him all night out of fear and because he hadn’t let me take him to the hospital, worried about the possible social media frenzy from other tourists.

There’d been the night I’d snuck into his room at Bash and Rowe’s house in the Hamptons for a quick fuck, only to find him on a call with a modeling friend who’d gone through a bad breakup. I’d lain down on the bed to wait for him to finish the call and had fallen asleep. He’d ended the call and stretched out next to me with the assumption we’d wake up at some point and fuck. But the scent of coffee had woken us instead, causing me to panic and race out of the room, nearly colliding with a house cleaner. I’d managed to stammer an apology and then stammer an unnecessary and detailed explanation to Bash about how I’d left my room before sunrise to be sure I was out of the way when the cleaners arrived because I was interested in taking sunrise photos. Which was only partially true.

Landry had overheard my stammering and gifted me a framed photo of a Hamptons sunrise the following Christmas, pointing out in front of everyone—with a perfectly straight face—that it had been the sunrise photo I’d taken that day, though it definitely hadn’t been. “I’m just grateful to those house cleaners for sending you outside with your camera so early that morning,” he’d said.

That was the same Christmas I’d given him a copy of The Art of Stillness in hopes he’d not only understand my obsession with meditation better but also realize how important it was to take some time alone, to slow down and focus.

As I lay there thinking back to my misperceptions of him at the time, a little over a year ago, I began to realize just how wrong I’d been.

First of all, he’d been too busy to be still. The man had been juggling two full lives. On the one hand, his life as Landry Davis, which included his found family—the Brotherhood, his somewhat silent partnership at Sterling Chase, and his modeling career, with its demanding nutrition and exercise expectations and aggressive travel schedule. On the other, his blood family, including his management of the Davencourt property and investment holdings Cora had described to me during our shopping trip, the expectation he’d eventually take up his family’s legacy by serving in the House of Lords, and the heartbreaking reality of his father’s Alzheimer’s disease.

When he wasn’t slammed with responsibilities from one, he was racing to stay on top of the other. And at every single moment of every day, he was hiding a piece of himself from someone.

I turned in his embrace and studied his relaxed face. My fingers found their way into his hair, brushing it softly back.

“Baby, fuck,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “You’re killing me.”

“Before San Cordova, who knew that you were Landry Davis the model, Everett Davencourt the viscount, co-founder of ETC, heir apparent to an earldom, weird freak-boy about lobsters, oddly nervous about giving speeches even though he wants to run for office, and a guy who grew up with noisy house-birds? Who knew all of those things together?”

“No one. I don’t exactly go around sharing the lobster thing.” He paused as if searching for the catch. “Why?”

I wanted to cry. I wanted to cradle him in my arms and murmur promises that this man-boy, this tall, gentle lover of fun and shenanigans, this soft-hearted son and devoted friend, would never be so fucking lonely again.

“You don’t have to hold it all in anymore,” I whispered as carefully as I could. “There’s one person who knows all of it now.”

A puff of air escaped his nose, warming my hairline. “Yeah. And that person has kept me at arm’s length for three fucking years. You make it sound so easy, Kenji. Know what’s not easy? Racing with an egg on a spoon on only two hours of sleep. Close your eyes.”

His large hand came up and covered my eyes for me, cutting off the dim light outlining the shadows of his face.

Instead of arguing, I let him dismiss my emotional plea, but I didn’t follow him into sleep. I lay there thinking back over ten years of knowing Landry Davis, the Right Honorable Everett Landry Davencourt, Viscount Hawling. He’d been a grieving, confused teenager who wanted to escape the heavy mantle of familial expectation and have a normal life. A normal life that led him straight into another blatantly abnormal experience of almost-accidentally helping found one of our generation’s most pivotal software systems, resulting in untold wealth he kept hidden from his family. A normal life that had tumbled him into the global spotlight for his good looks and charm, resulting in years of trying to keep his identity secret while under interrogation lights.

The man who spent years trying to be everything to everybody while pretending to flit around like a dilettante.

His story was unbelievable. And so incredibly isolating.

After a while, the door creaked open, and Turkey’s heavy body landed on the mattress next to my legs. She wobbled over the folds and lumps in the duvet until curling behind Landry’s knees.

I let out a breath. At least when he was here, he was loved and supported by his family. And when he was in the States, he was loved and supported by the Brotherhood.

My nose burned with emotion as my brain helpfully supplied the truth.

But not by you.

Landry was right when he said I’d kept him at arm’s length. I’d believed the lies. I’d tried to protect myself from him.

What would it have been like if I’d given him a chance? Would he have ever confessed the truth of his identity to me? How long would it have taken? And how would I have reacted?

The answer to the last one was clear. I vividly remembered the things I’d told Landry in the car leaving the city airport. My first reaction had been to leave. To pick up my toys and go home.

To flee, like any other animal when scared.

I’d been an idiot.

And if that realization wasn’t galling enough, I’d planted myself squarely in the center of a public farce where I had to pretend to be fake-married to the man just as I was finally realizing that he might, in fact, be the one for me.

It was like having everything you’d ever wanted dangled in front of you on a stick just out of reach. You could look but not touch. You could live adjacent to it but never claim it as your own.

My eyes stung from trying to see Landry’s face in the dark.

But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t make him out.

“Pretty sure consuming opiates before a public appearance is a bad idea,” Cora murmured without taking her eyes off her phone screen.

The Range Rover smoothed to another stop as we made our way through London traffic.

“Fine.” Landry shifted in the seat next to me and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “But we have time to stop at a pub for a quick pint. I just need to take the edge off.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, not for the first time. “You’ve done things like this before. You helped Zane cut the ribbon on the community center in Barlo and then said a few words to the crowd about his generosity. You and the guys did a meet and greet last September for Sterling Chase employees and partners.”

“Not the same,” he grumbled, glancing out the window.

“How is it not the same?”

His chest heaved. “I didn’t have to remember how to speak in exactly the way I’d been trained by political strategists while knowing people are fixated on my American accent. I didn’t have to worry about making a stupid joke, or finding a way to drop a casual child poverty fact into my speech without scaring the children in the audience, or referring to three different schools without showing preference for one over the other. Or, god forbid, touching a child.”

I reached over to take his hand, if only to keep him from ruining his pants, when I realized it was drenched in sweat.

“Hey,” I said, reaching up to feel his forehead as if he was fevered instead of nervous. It was plenty cool, but I took secret delight in seeing his eyes flutter closed at my touch.

His reaction simply didn’t make sense. “You’ve spoken publicly a million times,” I reminded him again.

“I’ve thanked Calvin Klein for selecting me. I’ve joked about jet lag. I’ve announced my next appearance. I’ve thanked people for coming or congratulated someone on a job well done. Those are not the same thing.”

“He’s right,” Cora called back from the front seat. “A lot is riding on this.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Landry groaned. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His skin had a slightly green pallor.

I scrambled to think of a way to help. “Focus on the kids you’re helping. This program is a difference-maker. When I was in elementary school in Baltimore, we didn’t have a place to play outside. There was a city park down the street, and the teachers would take us there sometimes, but it wasn’t dedicated for our use at all, which meant we never knew what we were going to find.”

As the Range Rover meandered through the congested streets, I told Landry stories of stray dogs nosing for food, homeless people under benches muttering to themselves, and the time Vonnie Cecil found a hypodermic needle and a candy bar in the same plastic baggie. I also told him about the time there was a random guy dressed as a clown doing cartwheels, the time a hot dog cart offered to give us all free dogs, and the day the sun shone down in full summer warmth on an early February day when the sky was a blinding blue.

“Being outside with your friends is where the good times happen,” I said. “Those are some of the times we remember the most, right? Even you and Jamie went straight to a shared memory from being outside playing sports together in school. It’s where kids connect and find joy. It’s where they gossip and learn about betrayal and loyalty. And your family is giving that gift to kids from two different schools without dedicated outdoor play space.”

“Pretty sure Killian Prep is doing it,” he muttered.

“Pretty sure they only agreed after the Davencourt Foundation offered them a big donation,” Cora added in the same snarky mutter.

“And I’m pretty sure there will be at least ten boys there who discover a little something about their sexuality when they see a real-life male model up close and personal,” I teased. “You’re doing the Lord’s work, Landry. Worst-case scenario, you ruin your political future and your family’s reputation, but you still help a few young people live a more authentic life. How about that?”

The poor young driver’s ears turned red, but Landry’s lips curved up a little.

Victory .

“You’re lowering the bar,” he accused with narrowed eyes. But then his grin widened, and he bounced his eyebrows. “I’m here for it.”

My own sexuality wasn’t immune to a reminder that I most definitely preferred men. I swallowed and looked away from him, focusing on the hodgepodge of signage plastering the windows of a nearby corner store.

I smiled to myself. “And if you feel the need to hug a child or clap them on the back, touch me instead. I’ll take one for the team.”

The sound of his soft chuckle mixed with Cora’s laughter helped relax my shoulders. He would be okay. We would be okay.

When we got out of the vehicle in front of the school, Jamie Winthrop was there waiting with a friendly smile on his face. Landry’s hand immediately reached for mine and took firm possession of it as we said our hellos and greeted the head of the school.

Paparazzi stood outside the school gates, but their manner was surprisingly mild compared to previous visits. I remembered from our prep for this event that there were strict rules about photographing children and schools, which was why there was an official photographer for the event and only one reporter recording the details.

After greeting the kids and moving up onto a raised dais where a podium had been set up, the head of Killian Prep stepped forward and welcomed us with a kind introduction.

“Lord Hawling and Mr. Winthrop would like to say a few words about our new program before we get started with our sports day.”

The crowd cheered as Landry squeezed my hand one last time and left me to step up to the podium.

He leaned in and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Do I have poppy seeds in my teeth? Because I had a bagel this morning, and now I feel like my teeth are peppered with black spots. You will tell me, won’t you? Or else they’ll have a photo of me on the internet looking like a numpty.”

The kids all laughed as Landry grinned and then quickly slapped a hand over his mouth in mock embarrassment, causing them to laugh harder.

“Right, no one said anything, so I’ll assume I’m alright. Thank you for having me, my husband Kenji, my cousin Cora, and my friend Jamie here today. We are honored to start this program with you because we all believe that exercise and outdoor play are important.

“I grew up in Regent’s Park, where I had space to run, space to move, and space to believe I could be something more. Later, I went to a school with Jamie here,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder, “where we met and formed memories out on the field. In one particular rainy and cold cricket match, a young, strapping viscount claimed victory over a much less talented?—”

Jamie blurted, “Oiy!” with a good-natured grin on his face.

The kids all laughed as Landry acted apologetic. “Alright, alright. Although I’m sure I won that match, only because he’s one hundred percent American and I’m only half-American, how ’bout that?”

The kids cheered and agreed.

Landry was an incredible actor. There was no trace of nerves in his manner. “Every one of us should have a safe place where we can make connections. Where we can be bold, be strong, and believe in something bigger for ourselves, regardless of our postcode. Where we can take care of our bodies and improve our health while getting a break from the rigors of our academic studies. Which is why the Winthrop and Davencourt Foundations are helping Killian Prep enlarge this outdoor sports area and open it up to other schools. But this isn’t just a sports area. It’s a launchpad. Maybe you’ll use it to train for something big. Maybe you’ll use it to shake off a tough day. Or maybe, just maybe, this will be the place where you and your mates make memories that will last a lifetime.

“Access to safe outdoor spaces for exercise and play should not be a privilege. It should be a promise. A promise that you will have what you need to pursue a long and happy life with healthy habits.

“So today, when you run, when you kick a ball, when you cheer for each other—and hopefully for me because I’ll need it against you lot—know that this space belongs to you. Because you deserve it. Because your future deserves it. And because I know you’re going to do incredible things with your minds and bodies, if you use your imaginations and stick with your mates.”

After handing the podium over to Jamie, Landry moved back to take his place beside me. I glanced up at him with affection and pride for an incredible job well done.

Which ended up being the photo from our sports day event that went viral.

Lord Hawling Dedicates Youth Sports Program While Devoted Husband Looks On

“Could have been worse,” Cora said later while I had my final fitting with the tailor in the large laundry room behind the kitchen.

Landry scrolled on his own phone, his long legs spread out in front of him on the worn terra cotta tile. “True. They could have gotten a close-up of the fact that I did, in fact, have something in my teeth. What is that? A leaf? I ate oatmeal for this very reason.”

“You look happy,” she observed. “Which is more than anyone will be able to say for my mother when she sees the photo of me shaking Jamie’s hand after besting him at archery. I can imagine the conversation now. ‘Cora, dear, how do you hope to attract a titled husband if they think you might shoot them?’”

Landry snickered. “Well, from the dopey expression on Winthrop’s face, he wouldn’t mind being shot if you were the one holding the bow.”

Cora smacked Landry’s shoulder smartly. “Be nice,” she commanded. “Jamie’s sweet. And he didn’t for one moment try to pretend he’d only lost because he was going easy on me, either. It was a fair contest, and he congratulated me like a true sportsman.”

“Oh, it’s Jamie , is it?” Landry teased, provoking Cora to smack his shoulder again, harder this time. “And do you want Jamie going hard on y—oiy! Leave off! Don’t bruise the viscount!”

I barely paid attention to their sibling-ish squabbles. I was too busy staring at the photo of myself. I hated to admit it, but whoever was writing the headlines had gotten it right.

I huffed out a breath. “I never expected to be anyone’s dutiful husband,” I muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”

Landry quirked his lips at me while his eyes danced. “They didn’t say dutiful. They said devoted. Devoted , Kenj. I’m sending the link to the Brotherhood. If anyone will laugh at the irony, it will be Bash and Silas.”

I didn’t mention that I’d already gotten a text from Zane with a row of hearts and swoony-face emojis and a long, drawn-out d’awwww .

“I am devoted to you,” I said. “Devoted to your punctuality, your organization, your schedule, your dry cleaning, your…” My snark trailed off as a memory inserted itself front and center.

“I am devoted to your pleasure,” Landry said with a teasing look on his face.

“Yeah, how about being devoted to getting me off as quickly as possible. I have a meeting in six minutes, and you’re going to be late for your shoot.”

We’d been in the executive restroom off my office, and Landry had been on his knees for me.

My eyes flicked to his and found deep aquamarine eyes staring back at me with knowing intensity.

The tailor was three seconds away from moving from my back to my front, so I shot Landry a death-ray glare and quickly imagined a quick plunge in an icy lake. It worked, but it left me feeling a little chilled.

I blamed Landry.

Just when I was poised to disappear upstairs and take some much-needed time to myself, Cora shot me a cheeky grin. “Etiquette lessons, remember? They were rescheduled when the sports day went long?”

I closed my eyes and bit back a curse.

Landry chuckled and moved past me. “Yeah, good luck with that, husband. It’s a lot about utensil placement and proper address. Riveting stuff.”

Cora caught his elbow. “You’re in it, too. He’s doing a dance lesson with it since the two of you will be watched like hawks at the Hearts of Hawling Dinner.”

I silently cackled with glee when Landry did his cursing out loud.

The etiquette part of the lesson was easy enough. I’d picked up details here and there over the years that seemed to have covered most of it. The biggest challenge was the rules around addressing people properly and rank-based protocol. I planned to review a few of the finer points before the dinner since Landry was expected to spend the majority of the event introducing me and Jamie to as many peers as possible.

But the dancing part of the lesson… that one was brutal.

“Too close!” the teacher snapped for the third time, causing me to jump away from Landry. “This is not a brothel.”

Landry’s jaw ticked, but he kept his mouth closed.

“Again,” she said, restarting the music on the Bluetooth speaker. “Forward, slide, close. Forward, slide, close. That’s it. Keep tension in your arms. Just like that. Alright.”

I lowered my voice to a nearly imperceptible whisper. “I notice the viscount is the man in this scenario. How unexpected.”

His nostrils flared. “I am holding on to my patience with her by a thread, Kenji. Say the word, and I will let it go.”

“Smile when you’re talking!” the teacher called out. “Everyone is watching. Do you want to look like you’re at the dentist, or do you want to look like you’re in a happy marriage?”

“Is this when I casually let slip we’re just fuck buddies?” I murmured. “If the ambulance comes, we might not have to do this for much long?—”

“No whispering!” she warned. “Whispering is considered rude. You may speak of the weather, of sporting events, of a hobby such as gardening or visiting the theater, music. You may inquire about your partner’s family, their recent travels, or their work. Stick to topics that can be overheard by others without causing harm.”

Thankfully, Landry was now trying to stifle a laugh. As long as he was happy, so was I.

The day dragged on, ending in a formal dinner with five courses. The Winthrops had been invited, since Landry and Jamie’s “rekindled friendship” had smoothed over any lingering resentment between Jim and Lord Davencourt, but their inclusion in the dinner meant Landry was even more stressed than ever, fearing Ed would get into a repetition loop that gave the Winthrops private insight into the real reason he was retiring from politics.

Jamie, his younger sister, and his parents were seated closer to Lydia and Landry, while Cora and Nan flanked Ed at the head of the table. I sat between Nan and Jamie’s sister and managed to help steer the conversation. Every time Ed began to repeat a story, Cora, Nan, or I interjected to ask him about something completely different, sending him off in a different direction.

It was a long three and a half hours.

The Winthrops, minus Jamie, left soon after dessert, and Nan and Ed headed right off to bed. Cora, Landry, Jamie, and I made our way into a billiards room I’d never seen before.

“Thank you for that,” Jamie said sincerely as he shrugged out of his dinner jacket. “My parents were happy to be invited and pampered, and my sister couldn’t stop staring at all the paintings around the room and the sheer amount of silverware on the table.”

Landry took both of their coats and mine and laid them over a leather chair in the corner. “Didn’t she go to Wycombe Abbey? Surely they covered all of that there.”

He nodded. “Yes, and she’s friends with a couple of young women from titled families, but nothing like this. Dining at Hawling House is like dining in a Masterpiece Theater period piece.”

Cora kicked off her heels and tossed a few of her bangle bracelets on the nearby wooden shelf before grabbing the wineglass she’d stolen from dinner and curling up on the sofa. “Maybe you can tell her the chair she was sitting in has been used to make epic pillow forts in the past.”

“True story.” Landry nodded sagely. “And a certain cousin of mine has also been known to deliberately grind mushy peas into that carpet in hopes the dog would eat them.”

Cora nearly sputtered on the sip of wine she’d taken. “Aww, I miss Alfred. He was a good dog.”

Landry nodded again, only this time, it was accompanied by a smile as he handed Jamie a pool stick and moved to rack the balls.

Jamie grinned at Cora. “Naughty girl. Does your mother know? Because I might enjoy being the one to tell her.”

She knuckle-punched Landry’s arm while laughing at Jamie. “Fuck off. My mother would punish me by forcing me to dance with every snotty lordling in town, so I try to stay in her good graces.”

I could tell by his bright eyes when he looked at her that Jamie was especially enjoying Cora’s company. “My lips are sealed, then, if only so I can take all your dances instead.”

Cora’s cheeks darkened. “Maybe not all of them.”

Jamie nodded happily.

Landry gestured for Jamie to start the game. “As for thanking us for dinner,” he said in response to Jamie’s earlier comment. “I will forever be in your father’s debt for getting Kenji out of a dangerous situation. You ready to break?”

My eyes stayed glued on Landry as he and Jamie began a friendly round of trash-talking across the pool table. His casual reference to the importance of my safety struck me as not only heartfelt but important.

He had been trying to tell me how much he cared about me for a long time.

But I was beginning to learn that actions spoke louder than words.