Page 17

E ven the next morning.

Even after a meeting with Gabriel, where Lex had managed to not fall asleep. Again. Where he’d just managed not to be disowned completely.

Lex was—somehow—still complaining.

Still.

“Everything is fucking buzzing ," Lex snapped. " I hate you.”

Morgan exhaled. “You don’t.”

“I do right now.”

Morgan slipped his jacket off the moment the suite door clicked shut behind them.

“Do you think I was too rough on you?” he asked, pulling a hanger from the closet.

Lex went remarkably silent.

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not a trick question,” he muttered. He hung the jacket back where it belonged, adjusting the collar and sleeves so they wouldn’t wrinkle.

Still nothing.

No insult. No deflection. No awful joke about vibrators or emotional trauma. Only the sound of Lex pouring dry cereal into a Styrofoam bowl.

That either meant yes —it had been too much , and now Lex was going to sulk like a kicked puppy for the foreseeable future.

Or it meant Lex had liked it. More than he was willing to admit. And judging by the near purple color spreading over Lex’s face? Option B it was.

Morgan cracked open the laptop as he listened to Lex unlock the second bedroom. The dry cereal rattled violently in the bowl, as if Lex were trying to lure a skittish, invisible cat out from under the bed.

He tuned out the noise. The sing-song coaxing. Ollie’s quiet thank you .

Let Lex play his little games with Ollie. Their “pet” was more hassle than he was worth.

A few minutes passed. Then Lex returned, dropping onto the bed with the sort of flop that made the entire mattress dip sideways. His long legs dangled off the edge, thumping against the floor.

He settled his head on Morgan’s knee, shuffling through the hotel-issued deck of cards he clearly hadn’t paid for at the front desk. Split. Bridge. Humming something tuneless under his breath that grated against Morgan’s focus .

Every few cards, Lex peeked up, waiting for a reaction.

None came. Morgan wasn’t about to entertain the silent treatment. The whole thing was thoroughly unnecessary, but predictable.

But, Morgan didn’t need both hands to reply to this email. Just one.

The other moved to Lex’s hair, fingers combing through. It was still damp, smelling faintly of that awful hotel shampoo—chemical citrus with an undercurrent of artificial florals.

Then the phone buzzed.

A flash of light. A name.

Kate.

Of course.

He let it ring once. Twice.

Almost let it go to voicemail.

On the third, he answered.

“Yes?”

“You’re still in London, aren’t you?” Her voice snapped down the line, clipped and formal. But there was something bristling underneath.

“We are,” he said evenly.

“I see.”

That tone. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t anything. That meant trouble where Kate was concerned.

“What is it, Kate?” he asked, dragging his fingers down Lex’s face. He slid his thumb against Lex’s mouth but there wasn’t a reaction.

Still pouting, apparently .

“Well—”

Lex moved.

He sat up like someone had thrown water on him, cards scattering to the floor. His fingers trembled as he snatched the phone from Morgan’s hand, hit speaker, and set it flat against the open laptop.

“—it’s strange, is all I’m saying,” Kate continued. “They’re not happy.”

“Your family?” Morgan asked. “Do they know we’re here?”

“Not that I’m aware. If—”

“Did you tell them it was over between you and Morgan?” Lex cut in, voice low and sharp.

Green really wasn’t Lex’s color. It dripped from his lips, festering and sickly. Jealousy at its absolute finest.

Kate sighed. “Hello to you too, Lex. Yes. I did. That’s not the issue here.”

“Then what is?”

“My baby cousin. He’s missing. He was supposed to meet my other cousin—the one that kept asking after you, Morgan. Max? I understand that you don’t particularly care, but since you’re already in the area…”

Morgan’s fingers paused on the keyboard. “What do you expect me to do? Go on a manhunt?”

“No. Thankfully, we have someone that can do that already there. I was simply going to ask you to keep an eye out for him.”

Lex cleared his throat. “What’s his name, Kate? You gotta give us something to go on.”

“Oliver.”

Silence. Total. Immediate .

Lex’s eyes caught Morgan’s, and he could read the word stuck on Lex’s tongue. The same word expanding in his throat until it closed.

No.

It was the kind of coincidence you only saw in television and movies—never real life.

The chances of Ollie and Oliver being the same person were slim. It wasn’t as if the name was uncommon.

“I’ll do what I can,” Morgan murmured, voice never wavering. “We’re quite busy with the business.”

“Yes. That I know... thank you, Morgan.”

Click . The line went dead.

Lex moved first. He bolted for the second bedroom, rustling around for a moment.

Ollie’s soft question was nearly swallowed by the sound of—what Morgan could only assume was—the black-and-white lingerie bag.

Lex didn’t answer.

Instead, he came back and dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor. Ollie’s shorts, boxers, and top came tumbling out.

And so did the wallet.

Lex caught it mid-air, flipped it open. Held the ID up to the light.

Morgan didn’t need to see it.

That dry, manic laugh told him everything.

“ Holy shit . Who fucking knew cousins had the same last name? ”

Morgan slowly shut the laptop, moving it onto the bedside table. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took two deep breaths.

“They do when you’re the Sterlings,” he muttered. “I am never letting you choose someone again.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“No, but it still happened this way.” Morgan’s voice dropped, quieter than before. “We have no choice but to give our most sincere apologies and go about our lives.”

Lex whirled around. “Apologies? You want us to—to return him ? Now? ”

“ Obviously .”

“But I’m having fun!”

Morgan let his head fall back against the wall. “And I don’t want to become a problem they need to deal with. We’ll have fun a different way.”

Lex let the wallet fall into the khaki like it burned. Then—too calm—he crossed the room and straddled Morgan’s lap without asking. Knees on either side of his thighs. Hands looped behind Morgan’s neck. His weight was deliberate.

A dare.

Lex’s mouth brushed Morgan’s jaw. Then lower.

“We’ve already gone this far,” he whispered against skin. “Ollie won’t keep his mouth shut. Plus, all those bruises are your fault, Morgan… I say fuck it.”

His tongue touched Morgan’s pulse point. Slow. Wet.

Morgan closed his eyes and exhaled. Lex was impossible. Insufferable. But Morgan had built him that way.

It was just as much his fault as Lex’s at this point .

“Aren’t you concerned?” he muttered.

“Nope.”

“Kate said they have someone looking for him.”

“And? We’ll leave his body somewhere nice and safe before we leave. They’ll never know it was us.”

Lex’s hand slid beneath Morgan’s shirt. Those rough nails traced with no care, touching anything they could. Familiar and manipulative to a fault.

Morgan was used to the games by now, but that didn’t make him immune.

“You’re incredibly bad for my health,” he murmured when Lex kissed him again.

“I know.”

Lex always kissed like it was a secret.

Like he knew something Morgan didn’t. His mouth always tasted like burnt honey. Soft lips, gentle pressure, enough to make Morgan’s blood stir. Lex rolled his hips, subtle but sure, shifting closer like he belonged there.

He always did.

Morgan gripped his own knees until he could feel every single stitch on the side of his pants.

Giving in now would make everything so much worse.

And the manipulation wasn’t appreciated. Rewarding that would’ve just meant that this whole circular behavior would repeat itself.

Lex pulled back just enough to speak.

“Let’s play again,” he whispered. “My rules this time.”

The game started the way it always did.

Ollie huddled on the floor in the corner, knees tucked in tight, shoulders hunched forward like he could fold into himself and vanish.

Lex’s voice rang out—bright, almost sing-song—like a twisted version of a television host gone wrong.

“Are you ready for another round of Simon Says?”

Ollie’s eyes snapped up, wide and anxious, darting between Lex and Morgan, then back again.

“What…” His throat bobbed on a swallow, focusing on Lex. “What’re the rules?”

Morgan came prepared this time. He tossed the travel kit onto the floor near Ollie’s feet.

Indulging Lex’s one whim—

This wasn’t going to go well.

But another ranting breakdown, coupled with Lex running on too much caffeine and not enough sleep, would put Morgan into a more precarious position.

Lex would end up in the hospital. Morgan almost entertained the idea a few nights ago. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

“Follow the instruction,” Morgan said dryly. “That’s all.”

A pause stretched between them.

Longer .

Ollie’s chin trembled. His eyes hollow, drifting back to the beige carpet.

Finally, he nodded.

“Simon says…” Lex grinned, all teeth. “Hurt yourself for me.”

And there it was.

Far worse than what Morgan could have mentally prepared for.

But, he wouldn’t interfere. If Lex wanted to make his “pet” or “cat”—or whatever Lex had decided to call Ollie—truly hate him?

Lex would learn. Even if all he was doing was sitting behind a camera and speaking.

Opening the case, Morgan slid the knife out and crouched in front of Ollie. Held out the blade.

No words.

Metal and silence, heavy with unspoken consequence and threat.

Ollie stared.

Morgan didn’t blink.

The blade hung in the air between them like a ritual offering.

Ollie took it. Hesitant. Both hands. His fingers trembled as he looked down at it, then up at Lex—eyes wide, wet, searching for a shred of empathy that wasn’t there.

And then—finally—he pressed it to his arm.

Just above his wrist.

Shallow. A thin line of red. Barely more than a scratch.

Lex clicked his tongue. “You can do better than that! Right? I know you can. ”

Ollie’s lips parted. His breathing caught. He looked down at the knife like it was alive.

And then—again.

The second cut was deeper.

An inhale of pain. A trembling hand.

Blood welled from his wrist, slipping in dark, slick lines down to his thighs.

Lex leaned forward, eyes bright and sharp. Morgan could feel his excitement, a low hum pulsing through the room like static electricity.

Ollie’s eyes glazed over. He was probably somewhere else, far away from here, searching for any moment of joy he could grasp.

Morgan could see it, plain as day.

“Is—is that okay?” Ollie voice shook. “Did I—”

Lex looked over the camera, then back down. “You can still do better.”

Ollie flinched, fingers tightening around the blade until the knuckles whitened.

“You’re almost there, Ollie,” Lex said, soft and sickly sweet. “You’re so close. A little more, okay?”

The tone was truly nauseating. Lex would have to work on that, or Morgan would have to be in a different room.

Another cut—closer to a vein this time. Dark blood bubbled up faster, warm and sticky, its metallic scent sharp and unmistakable in the stillness.

Ollie glanced back at Lex, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m—trying.”

Lex crawled forward, face inches from Ollie’s .

“You remembered to ask for rules. I’m so proud of you,” he said.

Ollie nodded too quickly, desperation in the gesture. His fingers tightened on the knife like he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to let go.

Morgan reached out, took the blade from him carefully. No blood touched his hands.

Lex’s eyes flicked to Morgan, then back to Ollie.

“He’ll do it again,” he said, as if talking about a trained animal. “Won’t you?”

“Y—yes.” More frantic nodding. “I promise.”

The recording stopped with a faint beep .

Lex popped open the first aid kit again, pulling out a too-long length of bandage. He wrapped it around Ollie’s wrist, white fabric stark against the dark stains of fresh blood.

His gaze met Morgan’s once more. No words—just a grin, bright and smug, like he’d just claimed victory in some silent, twisted war. But Morgan caught the flicker beneath that gleam—the split second where the thrill wavered, the cracks peeking through the bravado.

Morgan slid the knife back into the kit.

Lex was learning—fast, very fast—but that didn’t change the facts.

There was still so much more work to do.