Page 56

Chapter 14

I t wasn’t Royce’s first time on a private jet, but it was definitely his first time in a bedroom on one. He turned a full circle in the tight area, taking in the small bed with its plush beige comforter, the buttery-soft looking brown seats with the tiny table in between.

The plane belonged to a friend of Marc’s. He’d mumbled something about flying in under the radar that way, and that hadn’t sat well in Royce’s gut since. He frowned at the level of anger and unease building in his system. He often left Ohio on jobs because some warranted travel along with the clients, but this was something completely different. Marc was doing this for him, and he couldn’t feel right about it. Plus, Marc had told him nothing about the painting or his plans.

Could he let the man break the law?

An image of his mother the last time he’d seen her filled his head. Smiling and showing him her plans for her flower garden. Her new meds had been working to alleviate the depression that ruled her life. God, she struggled so much with the illness she’d always had. One that had crossed into unmanageable at the death of so many loved ones. But no matter how much it had ravaged her mind and body, she’d never, not once, been missing for him. She’d upended her entire life to keep him safe.

She had to be so terrified.

The urge to punch something overwhelmed him, and he tightened his hands into fists and slowly counted to ten. Fuck, he didn’t know what to do.

Just the thought of the debt it would take him years to repay made him sweat. He earned a decent living at Ward, but nowhere near the kind of salary he’d need to pay Marc back for a multimillion-dollar painting. And there was no way he wouldn’t pay him back. In one way or another, Royce always paid a price.

Fury tore through him. This time, Corbin was going to pay for this. For all of this.

He stared at the bed and thought of Marc beneath him last night. Of his taste and his scent and how unbelievably good it felt to be inside him. To touch him. The feelings the man raised in him had his world feeling completely off-kilter. He wanted desperately to keep this about sex and sex only, but they had these moments of such…intimacy, between them. They were blowing his fucking mind.

He’d worked so hard to keep things simple, to keep things right. He’d never make up for what he’d done to Michael. There wasn’t enough money or time in the world for that payback.

And he certainly didn’t deserve this man either.

As if thinking about him brought him into focus, Marc strode into the room, and Royce’s thoughts immediately zeroed in on how gorgeous he looked in jeans and a casual blue sweater. It was one of those loose and soft numbers that draped his form and invited fingers to touch. Royce was used to him being dressed in slacks and various button-downs he wore to his gallery. Business casual, when he looked anything but casual. In everything he wore. He had a way of carrying himself. Graceful and elegant, yes, but with a straight shot of firm and commanding that had Royce’s dick at half-mast most of the time they were in his gallery. His long legs and fiercely beautiful face drew his gaze constantly. He could hardly take his eyes off him.

Or his hands.

And because it could be anyone, even family, trying to harm him, Royce was overly diligent and hyper-aware of anyone and anything in Marc’s vicinity. Keeping to the boyfriend persona hadn’t been easy either. Especially because he went to work with the man every single day. To hopefully explain that away, Marc often touched and kissed him in front of his employees, cementing the idea that they were in a kind of honeymoon phase where they couldn’t stand to be apart.

But the night before…

He started to sweat just thinking about it.

“A few of my friends have planes, but this was the only one available. It’s supposed to be a bed for one person, but I think we can squeeze in here.” Marc handed his suitcase to the young man working as their flight attendant.

Royce waited for the guy to leave. “You can just sleep on top of me.”

The corner of Marc’s mouth went up. “Then we wouldn’t sleep, and we need to if we’re going to be sharp in Florence. Trust me, you want to be as quick as possible around Angelo.”

Royce frowned. “I’m not liking the sound of this.”

Marc briefly closed his eyes. “I promise that I’ll explain everything. Let’s just get going and get some rest. Someone woke me up in the early morning hours with a blowjob.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints.”

“Hell, no. I’m expecting to wake like that every day.”

“Oral fixation,” Royce murmured, stepping closer. “Where you’re concerned, I have it.”

“Lucky me,” Marc murmured. He touched Royce’s cheek, and a look flashed through his eyes that made Royce’s stomach tighten. “And lucky you, I have that one myself. I’ll show you later. Head into the main area. We have to strap in for takeoff.”

Two hours later, after Royce became a member of the mile-high club, he chuckled as Marc slumped on top of him.

“You’re right,” Marc mumbled into his chest. “This is a good spot to sleep. I fit so well.”

“You do,” he said softly as he tightened his arms around Marc’s back. “Of course I’m all limp and unable to move after you sucked my brains out through my dick.”

Marc chuckled and slid one leg between Royce’s. He cupped one firm, perfect ass cheek in his hand. Fuck, the man felt fantastic against him.

Marc’s friend, the one who owned the plane, had surprised them with a nice, catered meal, and they’d only made it through half before Marc had lured him to the tiny bed. It didn’t take much. Not from him.

Smooth skin covered in a light sheen of sweat felt satiny under his palms as he ran them over Marc’s back.

“You ever been in love, Royce?” With Marc’s face buried in his neck, he missed Royce’s immediate frown, but not the tightening of his muscles. He lifted up to stare down at Royce. Long moments passed before his brows dipped together. “You have and from your response, it didn’t end well. I’m sorry.”

Royce didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. His heart missed a beat, then thumped hard against his ribs.

Marc bit his lip, and Royce could tell he was dying to ask more questions.

“It’s hard to talk about,” he said, voice gruff.

“Then don’t.” He laid his head back down, his breath brushing over Royce’s skin.

For a few moments, there was only the sound of their breaths over the quiet drone of the plane. He cupped the back of Marc’s head with his palm. “His name was Michael. He died.”

“Oh,” he said softly. “Sorry doesn’t really cut it for something like that. How long ago?”

“Five years.”

“How long were you together?”

“We only lived together a year, but we dated over a year before that. I’d used my savings to buy us this townhouse in Virginia. In Old Town, Alexandria.”

“I love it there. And wow, that’s an expensive area.”

Royce nodded. “He loved it there, too, so it was worth it. We met in a coffee shop in Old Town. The ultimate clichéd meeting.”

“Tell me about him.” He paused and toyed with the hair on Royce’s chest. “If you want.”

“He was…soft. Sweet. One of those guys who isn’t really built for the harsh realities of this world, you know? He wrote romance novels. Loved romance movies. Anything with a love story and Michael was in it. He was nothing like the men I was used to. None that I’d been with anyway. Ever. I spent most of my time in the underbelly of society then, so Michael was like, I don’t know how to explain it. Fresh.” He paused as the memories piled into his head in a painful rush. “I liked that he needed me.”

“In what way?”

“Every way. He would go off in his head and let so many things go.”

Marc chuckled.

Royce stroked his hand over his hair. “A lot of artists are like that, huh?”

“All the ones I know.” Marc kissed his chest. “Even I can get lost if I’m caught up in something. Is he the man in the picture in your bedroom? The one in the colorful scarf?”

Royce nodded. “He always wore those things. I thought it was a fashion thing—one I didn’t get.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. He had some rough things in his past. Went looking for love in some bad places.” He cleared his throat. “They left scars.”

Marc tensed up. Then it seemed he forced himself to relax back against Royce. He was silent for long moments before he whispered, “That’s sad. It’s all so sad. I’m sorry you lost him.”

Royce just tightened his arms again. Something, some hint of a tone, told him Marc had secrets of his own.

They didn’t talk after that, the drone of the plane the only noise.

Surprise filled him as he thought about how easily he’d just talked about the man who’d once been everything to him. He’d never been able to before and here he was, while holding another man against his body. Luxuriating in having that man against his body.

Maybe he was finally, really, moving past it all.

Or maybe it was just this one man. He buried his nose in Marc’s soft hair and breathed him in. Marc grew heavier, and he thought maybe Marc was falling asleep. The drone of the plane did have a certain lull. Royce held up Marc’s arm so the small light they’d left on over the bed shone on the nearly healed wounds, and he felt a return of his earlier anger. Someone had put these scars onto Marc’s beautiful body. He laid his arm back down, only to see that Marc was awake and staring at him. He looked back, and a flood of warmth spilled into his chest. It expanded and seeped into his limbs and his brain. He’d started to care. A lot. His heart pounded.

Marc rested his palm there—he could probably hear it from where his cheek lay on the other side of Royce’s chest. His fingers brushed over the hair around Royce’s nipple. Yet, he didn’t look away. So serious. His expression was just so serious.

Royce had never felt this connected to anyone. Not even Michael. That revelation felt so utterly profound, it froze the breath in his lungs.

This beautiful man was going to break what was left of his shattered heart.

“Every time I come here, I think of staying permanently,” Marc said as he steered the rented Porsche 911 S Coupe north. Damn, he’d missed driving one of these. His still wasn’t out of the shop. Focusing on the scenery, he took in the budding cherry blossoms and the hints of colors in the fields as flowers began to poke their heads into the sun. The US shared a spring with Italy, so this was a gorgeous time for them to be visiting. Even if their reasons were anything but gorgeous. “Too bad it isn’t next month because that’s when the flowers really show off. It’s incredible. Or June, when the sunflower fields are this sea of yellow, orange, and green. I love it here. Think about finding an old place and fixing it up.”

“Like that Diane Lane movie?”

Marc grinned because it was one of his favorites. “You watched that? Don’t tell me—big, macho bodyguard and romantic movies are your secret jam?”

“Not so big.”

“Trust me, Royce, your presence is large.” He glanced at Royce in the passenger seat, biting back another grin when he saw him rubbing his hands over the leather seat. “So, do you watch romances, Royce?”

“Maybe.” Royce drew the word out, then shrugged. “I used to watch them with Michael. Some were good. I liked the one with Diane Lane coming here.” He ran his hand over the dashboard. “I think I want to fuck this car.”

That low, rumbling groan of a sentence got to Marc even more than the words. “Maybe later, we can find some private spot and fuck in the car.”

Royce looked around, then lifted his eyebrow at Marc. “It would be a tight fit in here. Especially with your legs.”

“You’d be surprised at how small a space I can fit in if the payoff is right.”

Royce made a noise in his throat that sent Marc’s blood to his dick. He would sure as hell find a country backroad somewhere while they had this car, and he’d climb onto Royce’s lap and give him a memory of Tuscany he’d never forget.

One of many, hopefully.

It was better to focus on that than on the other thing he had planned. Before he could break out into a cold sweat, he forced himself to keep the conversation going. He’d been picking up on odd moments from Royce. Fleeting, but difficult to see. Things he would have missed if he hadn’t been staring at him every chance he got. Their conversation had pulled painful memories to the surface. He desperately wanted to give Royce some better ones.

“Wait until you see the bed and breakfast we’re staying in. I adore it. The couple who runs it came into my gallery while on vacation in London. They bought one of my favorite pieces and invited me to come out and see their place. I took them up on that offer and fell in love. It’s this two-story, renovated farmhouse, and they grow their own vegetables and have their own olive orchard. They’re Americans who also had that dream of moving here and starting over.” He pulled off the main road, knowing he was being unusually chatty and unable to shut up. “I’ve been here in November twice now to help with the olive harvest. It’s so fun, and there are two other couples who vacation at that time of year to help as well. I’ve become friends with them all. It’s almost like a family gathering.”

“That sounds nice, Marc.”

He glanced over to find Royce frowning at the scenery. The man wore a scowl like armor. And he was devastatingly sexy in it. “It is. I stay here whenever I come to Italy. It’s a bit of a drive from the airport but worth it. You’ll see.”

“I already do.” He put his hand on Marc’s thigh. “It’s beautiful here. I can see why you think of being here permanently.”

“I’ve been thinking about it more lately.” He shot Royce a glance. “With what’s going on with my family.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel, then ran his palms over the supple leather, loving the way it felt under his hands. “But I love my family, Royce. It’s killing me that one of them may be doing this. When you told me what Quinn found out about them, it’s had me watching everything they do. I hadn’t known about Lilah’s money problems. I figured Gabriel is good at investing. Plus, he makes an excellent salary, so expensive vacations aren’t that suspicious. Oh, and he’s always had a sixth sense when it comes to making money from money. Richard, too. If this is about money, it makes little sense.”

“Are they your beneficiaries?”

He nodded. “Unless I have children, everything I own will be split between the three.”

“You have more money than they do, right?”

“Combined.”

Royce chuckled. “I love that you say that without any inflection in your tone. It’s just the way it is.”

“I’ve worked hard for what I’ve made. I may have had a solid bump in the beginning with my inheritance, but I made my galleries the success they are now.”

“Maybe this is about jealousy. Maybe one of your older brothers feels he should be ahead of you.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do. I’m sure it grates that the little, gay brother surpassed them.” He knew there was an inflection in his tone then. Pain. All he’d ever wanted was their acceptance. “Look, we’re here!”

His heart warmed at the sight of the farmhouse. He’d called ahead and gotten his favorite room, too. It was one usually reserved for families because it had a couple of extra beds in it, but it was his favorite. It had a small kitchenette and a completely private porch.

He pulled in next to a row of massive pots, already spilling over with flowers Julia had planted and smiled to see Julia and Sam coming out to greet them. He stepped from the car and grinned as Julia swept in for a hug.

“Oh, you beautiful boy! We’re so happy to see you!” She squeezed him, and he hugged her back. She smelled of home-baked bread and apples. “We’re always so happy when you come.”

Sam hugged him next, the big, burly man still sporting a handlebar mustache that made him look a little like Sam Elliott.

Julia moved toward Royce with her hand out. “Marc has never brought a boyfriend here, so we couldn’t wait to see you. It’s good that he didn’t come alone.” She winked. “And you have the house to yourselves, this time.”

“You don’t have other guests? That’s unusual.” Marc frowned.

“We have the upstairs shut down for renovations, so don’t start worrying.”

Royce was friendly but silent as he toured the bed and breakfast. Marc smiled to see the art they’d bought from him still prominently displayed in the main gathering area. Julia and Sam actually lived in the small cottage next to the larger building. They came in the mornings to make breakfast but left the kitchen open for guests to use the rest of the time.

Julia led them into the room they’d be sharing, and it felt a little like coming home. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, matching the wood along two of the walls. A queen-sized bed with a hand-sewn jade quilt was next to the French doors that opened to the small, private porch. Two small, twin beds stretched along the opposite wall, and a small, hand-carved, picnic-style table and seats rested in the middle of the room.

She’d filled the entire area with vases of fresh flowers she must have purchased because it was too early for her gardens to be in full bloom.

Marc turned and gave her another hug. She blushed and left them alone.

“I can see why you love it here,” Royce said as poked his head into the attached bathroom. “Wow.”

Marc joined him, surprised to see the bathroom had been renovated since he’d last been there. It had a much larger shower—big enough for two people, and the tile had been changed to all warm beige and brown with copper accents. An antique sink vanity with a copper, glass vessel sat next to a deep bathtub. A huge piece of wall art was on the wall over the tub and it held ten amber glass candle holders. “I want that for over my bathtub,” he murmured. “But we are so going to take a bath before we leave here.”

Royce smiled. “Think the owners will be coming back?”

“No. The only time they spend any time with guests is breakfast. Why?”

Royce closed the drain on the tub and turned the water on.