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18

Aldous

T he sun had descended below the horizon hours ago, leaving only the dim glow of the lounge below. The unbearable heat of the day had disappeared too, giving way to a full breeze beneath the crescent moon.

If the lounge had been this busy when they’d arrived, he’d have never walked through it. People swarmed through in all directions, dancing and laughing and shouting, their movements travelling in ripples across the crowd.

Before he’d met Bri, Aldous wouldn’t have come near this place with a ten-foot barge pole.

Now, though, he had something to focus on—her.

But no matter how much he tried, his gaze always found Roman too.

He hated it. He hated that he knew the taste of his lips, the rasp of his stubble, the hard lines of his body, and how it all felt beneath his touch. Most of all, he hated that he craved it.

There. There was the truth. As much as Aldous tried to push Roman away, his baser lusts wanted the opposite.

He wanted Roman every bit as much as he wanted Bri.

After everything that happened with Friedman, Aldous swore he’d never allow himself to be touched by a man again.

Yet here he was, lusting after his wife’s bodyguard.

At least I can admit it. He’d come that far. It didn’t mean he liked the conclusion, but he’d arrived at it nonetheless.

Hands frozen over his laptop keyboard, Aldous watched Roman pull Bri over to one of the booths, both of them red with exertion from dancing. Her father sat on the other side, eagerly engaging her in conversation once more. Bri’s smile flashed from across the room, smoothing over him like molten gold and filling his chest with affection.

A few feet behind them, he noticed two men leaning against the bar, one pulling the other in for an easy kiss as though it was the most conventional thing in the world.

His stomach clenched as he watched—because he realised how much of a fucking coward he was being.

“Not just for show then, huh?”

He glanced up at the deep rasp from the shadows—and then up again when he located the speaker. Shoving his laptop aside, Aldous stood, facing Arturo as the man approached. “What isn’t?”

Arturo inclined his head towards the booth below, a dark lock of hair falling onto his forehead. “You only married her on Vivian’s orders, right?”

Aldous lifted his chin. “Vivian’s involvement in my marriage ended there.”

“Isn’t Roman on Vivian’s payroll?” He hiked up an eyebrow.

“He only started working for her at my request.” Aldous raised his shoulders, finding his focus slipped over to Roman and Bri’s booth.

Arturo followed his gaze; a silent sentinel overlooking his kingdom. “Is it true she has seizures?”

He nodded, leaning against the cool stone wall. “We spent our wedding night in the hospital. Turns out she’d had one before, but her mother never bothered to have it checked out.”

There was a subtle shake to Arturo’s head. “But you had her seen?”

“We did. She’s on medication for them now. Seems to have calmed them down somewhat.”

“We?”

Aldous’s exhale was layered in guilt. “Me and Roman,” he confirmed. “He was just outside the hotel room when her seizure started. Scared the shit out of both of us.” Didn’t stop me from pushing him away though, did it?

“She told Dante it was you who helped her find us.”

“Me and Roman,” he said again, watching her laugh down in the booth. It had always been both of them with Bri though, hadn’t it?

She wasn’t just his. She was theirs.

“Why?”

Aldous snorted. “Why do most men do this kind of stuff? To make the woman they lo…” His voice drifted away as he realised what he’d been about to say, his jaw slackening.

Love.

The word sunk into his psyche like it carried the weight of the world on its shoulders. He… he cared for her, but he didn’t love her, did he? They’d only known each other for a couple of months. Shit, they hadn’t even slept together yet.

Yet. As though somewhere in his mind, he’d accepted it as a foregone conclusion.

“Here.” Arturo’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He dangled a key between them, attached to a keyring bearing the number one.

“What’s this?” Aldous accepted it, being careful not to touch him.

“The best suite we have here. Go past the stairwell; it’s the last door on the left. Roman can show you where it is.”

Aldous nodded. He hadn’t intended to stay here, but it was getting late. He and Bri would probably be fine in his car, but he didn’t like the thought of Roman driving across the desert in the dark. “Cheers,” he murmured, as Arturo slunk back towards the lounge.

White movement in the corner of his eye, followed by a long-suffering exhale, told him Jasmine had climbed into his seat.

He snorted, bending down to scratch her head and earning himself a handful of spiky white fur. “Good thing I didn’t want to sit on that anyway, then, I guess.”

Jasmine lifted a ladylike paw in response. You may scratch my belly now, peasant, it said.

Absent-mindedly, he obliged. With his free hand tracing the keychain, his attention was very much on Bri and Roman downstairs. They were still in the same booth, with Bri tucked beneath Roman’s arm.

His chest rose and fell as he replayed the events of that night. The feel of Roman’s body against his and the sounds Bri made when she came, and everything in between.

In the days since then, Aldous may have been decent to Bri, but he’d been downright spiteful to Roman. All because of things that happened to him twenty-odd years ago. And Roman had shouldered it all without complaint, because he knew what Aldous had been through.

He’d let his fears rule him. Like a coward.

Aldous’s gaze found Roman, contemplating what it would be like to touch him again. To enjoy it this time, to skate his touch down his torso towa—

Roman looked up, his dark gaze locking with his.

Expelling his fears in one long exhale, Aldous slid his phone from his pocket and typed in a quick message.

Room 1. Bring Bri.