by Clare London
“For what, sir?”
“For delaying getting back to you. To be honest, we only heard about the YouTube incident on Saturday, shortly before Matt… well, came to visit us. But we should have been quicker to reassure you that nothing would change in the commission arrangements, unless of course we found there was more to the incident than—”
“Me throwing a fit of rage and dismembering a soft toy,” Joel said with a wince. “Sir.”
The prince and Paolo chuckled politely. Matt, to Joel’s surprised delight, lifted a hand and pressed Joel’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.
“The infamous moment will pass,” the prince said dismissively. “They almost always do. I suspect if you check in with your marketing department over the next month or so, you’ll find the exposure will have done Starsmith nothing but good. After all, no one was hurt, nothing illegal was done, and many people will empathize with that feeling of shock and betrayal. Your reputation will not be badly harmed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Joel relaxed enough to sip his coffee—a very excellent blend, if he was any judge of quality. But even if the commission was secure, there was still the mysterious matter of Matt being held here….
“And forgive us for a small joke too,” the prince added with a mischievous glance at Paolo. “Calling you to the Tower. That may have caused you some worry.”
“I’m not apologizing,” Paolo said with a wink at Matt. “After all, it did the job.”
“The job?” Joel frowned.
“Brought you to your man’s rescue,” Paolo said smugly. “Not a lawyer, not one of your assistants, but you. You were afraid for him, don’t deny it. You, of course, missed him horribly. It’s obvious he feels as strongly, from his pained defense of you. However, you need to make amends. And because you did not trust anyone else to do things properly, you came here, personally.”
“To be with him again,” the prince added, his smile growing as he reached for a small pastry. “To show how much you care.”
Joel could feel a flush of embarrassment rising up his neck. “That’s not what I meant—”
“That’s not what I was looking for—” Matt started to say, hotly, at the same time.
They twisted in their chairs to stare at each other.
“Not like I needed bloody rescuing, like some damsel in distress,” Matt grumbled.
“No, nothing like being misguidedly stuck on a spiked railing outside your country’s most prestigious palace,” the prince murmured in the background.
“Not like I had any intention of rushing down here just to make some kind of lovesick declaration!” Joel snapped back.
Paolo cleared his throat theatrically. “Because I am sure you have already expressed your feelings clearly enough to each other many times, am I right?”
Both Joel and Matt fell silent.
The prince dabbed his mouth one more time with the napkin and, with a regretful gaze at the rest of the pastries, stood. Everyone else at the table rose at once, and the security men standing discreetly in the background straightened to attention. “Now,” Prince Arthur said, “I have an appointment elsewhere.”
“You do?” Paolo asked, surprised.
“Yes,” the prince insisted. “And you will be accompanying me, my dear. Matt and Joel? Please stay as long as you like, if you don’t find the setting too overbearing. There is unlimited coffee and tea and some of my sister-in-law’s favorite cakes, if the pastries aren’t enough.”
“Sir?” Matt looked embarrassed too, but also grateful. “Thank you again.”
“Matt, think nothing of it. I’m just glad I was able to help before the Metropolitan Police’s wrath was unleashed.”
“What actually happened on Saturday night?” Joel asked, confused.
The prince smiled warmly at them both. “I’ll leave Matt to explain. After all, it’s all in the past now. Just pick up the phone on the bar should you need anything, or when you’re ready to leave.”
“The service here is much better than that poky hotel I’m staying in,” Matt said with a chuckle.
“You’re in a hotel?” Joel was startled.
“Couldn’t go back to Dan’s, could I? That’d be throwing fuel on the already roaring fire at Starsmith.”
Joel’s shame reared its head again. “You should check out right away. You can stay at mine for as long as you need. I want you there! I mean, if I’m not pushing you into something, too much, too soon. After the way I behaved—”
“Let it go!” Matt snapped, then grimaced. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’d like that… but doesn’t it depend how you feel about everything between us? We can’t just brush all that crap under the carpet—”
“—because of a few royal cakes? But it’s a start, I’d say.” Matt had that half-awkward, half-delighted look on his face again. Joel thought the delight was winning at the moment, but what did he know? He’d made so many mistakes with Matt already. They both stood as close together as when they’d been sitting. Even when the prince shook their hands, ready to leave, they barely moved apart. Joel wasn’t sure he could, when every inch of him was craving to be even closer.
“Yes, indeed,” Paolo Astra said to his fiancé with a sigh. “From the current look on both their faces, they do need to be alone for a while.”
“IN the Tower of London,” Matt said slowly. “Who’d have thought it?”
They’d shuffled onto the leather banquette seating, made short work of the sandwiches, and Matt had drunk all the tea. He said something about being so stressed yesterday he didn’t dare eat anything, not until he knew how today would go.
“Did you really try and scale the railings at Buckingham Palace?”
“Don’t remind me. It was a moment of madness. I was bloody glad I was found by a sympathetic police officer.”
“And rescued by a prince,” Joel teased gently.
“The man’s a mischief maker,” Matt muttered. “Or he’s been led astray by that Italian joker of a fiancé. Turns out this Tower idea was mostly Paolo’s. I think he was paying me back for not recognizing him at Hampton Court that time.”
“I remember it as that time where you sealed the Project Palace deal,” Joel said quietly. “You excited them with your ideas. No wonder Paolo took to you.”
“You think he fancies me? That’s what Teresa said, after that night.” Matt snorted a laugh. “Not my type, I can tell you. I prefer….” He paused for a moment. “You know who,” he said, his voice ragged.
Joel’s heart did the equivalent of a backflip. “I am so deeply sorry for suspecting you,” he said. “I knew in my heart you wouldn’t have let us down. But I had some kind of meltdown that day. Twice,” he added ruefully.
Matt’s grin was equally sheepish. “I’m to blame too. My hot head ruled the day, as usual. I didn’t give you time to calm down and work things through. You’ve been so wound up about the project, and I should’ve known the suspicion of industrial espionage would stir up all that trouble and pain you’re carrying around about your parents. You’ve always been fair with your staff.”
“This is more than just a staff matter,” Joel said. His throat felt too tight. Dammit, he gave presentations in front of hundreds at trade events, and now he was tongue-tied?
“’S all right,” Matt said. His face was flushed too. His hand was inches from Joel’s sleeve, as if itching to touch but afraid to. “I know you didn’t mean it. You don’t have to say any more. It’s implied—”
“Doesn’t mean a thing shouldn’t be said!” Joel broke in. No, he shouldn’t be let off that easy. “Meeting you has been one of the most astonishing, disturbing, exciting, emotional things that has ever happened to me.”
“Thanks. I think?” Matt gave a short laugh.
Joel gripped the edge of the table. He needed to keep his hands off Matt, at least until he’d said his piece. “Over the last few weeks, it’s been great having you over at my place. The companionship, sharing the work, the banter—”
/> “The sex?”
Jesus, yes! “Yeah, I suppose that’s been okay.” He laughed when Matt thumped him on the upper arm. Nothing could spoil the happiness and hope bubbling inside him for a reconciliation. “I meant it when I said I was falling for you. Such an old-fashioned phrase to describe how I feel, but I can’t think of anything else….”
“I love you,” Matt said quietly, gruffly.
“Well, yes, I could say that, but I didn’t want to startle you or make you think things were getting too heavy.”
“No. I mean. Me.” Matt shifted nervously on his seat. “I mean—I love you. Have for a long time. Possibly since I kissed you in that Claridge’s bar after talking about what beauty really is.”
Joel stared at him. Was it true? Could he be that lucky? “Hell’s bells.”
Matt laughed again, but now he sounded relieved. “Now there’s an old-fashioned phrase, if ever I heard—”
And so Joel tugged him close and kissed him to silence. He wasn’t going to throw Matt onto the royal leather seat and fuck him senseless—much as he wanted to—but they were definitely going to need the rest of their time here to do justice to the makeup kissing!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE weather smiled on the royal wedding of Prince Arthur and Mr. Paolo Astra on an early summer morning at St. George’s Chapel in the Windsor Castle grounds. The TV coverage was more restrained than at Prince Harry and Meghan’s wedding, but it was still streamed across the world. It was especially celebrated by same-sex support groups and lauded by the popular British press as an example of how positive role models could be found in the highest family in the land.
Joel and Matt were invited to the ceremony, and a very generous prewedding breakfast at the Macdonald Hotel in the heart of Windsor. Matt had grumbled at having to buy yet another suit, and this time an even more expensive designer one, while secretly enjoying the most luxurious thing he’d ever worn in his life. Then, when Joel introduced him to the actual designer on the way into Windsor Castle, Matt gushed over the man like a teenage pop-star fan. He was afraid he was going to turn into some kind of celebrity hanger-on—though that passing thought was quickly discarded when Joel told him to get over himself and threatened to feel him up under cover of the elegant orders of service.
Matt hadn’t enjoyed running the gauntlet of the paparazzi on the way into St. George’s Chapel, though. It wasn’t the first royal wedding to be held there, but it had an extra cachet because of the number of celebrities and professional musicians who attended. Prince Arthur led a charmed and privileged life, with much less responsibility than the rest of his family, and he shared his spirited social life with creatives and media stars. And all of Paolo’s opera star friends appeared larger than life, and louder than the journalists themselves. Even more unnerving to Matt, many of them found Joel and Matt a fascinating and seductive couple.
It was surreal that he and Joel had become minor celebrities. The Palace Diamond Collection, as it was now called, had taken the jewelry world by storm. Starsmith had been approached by many prestigious families, royal and otherwise, and Matt was in high demand. The gold pots with their distinctive style and exquisite crown motif were reported to be one of the most treasured possessions of the wedding guests, and their copies embraced with love by the buying public throughout the world. Models were on display in all jewelers’ windows, in the major department stores, and all over the popular press. Matt knew the design as well as he knew the back of his hand by now, but it still gave him a thrill to see the enchanting urns most every place he went. As well as the luster of gold and diamond, they demonstrated graceful simplicity and beauty from every view. And Joel had reported an amazing rise in sales of wedding rings set with diamond pairings—for all marriage participants, whatever gender, seeking a true partnership.
When the grooms paused on the steps of St. George’s Chapel after the ceremony, to laughter and cheers from friends and press alike, Matt took a deep, calming breath and tugged at Joel’s sleeve.
“You want to go?” Joel murmured quietly.
Amazing, how well his lover had grown to understand his grumpy moods. “I’m fine right now,” he protested, though Joel was totally right. “But I’m not keen on the partying to follow.” The prince and his consort were hosting a much smaller family party in private back at Buckingham Palace, but other guests had organized parties of their own to continue the festivities. Matt and Joel had been invited to most of them.
Joel nodded. “Back to mine, then?”
“Those bloody reporters aren’t still camping outside your building?” The week before the wedding, when the gifts had been delivered to the guests, Starsmith and its principals had been stalked by many a journalist looking for exclusive pictures.
Joel laughed. “Since Paolo arranged the loan of some palace security staff—”
“—who chased them off—” Matt recalled with a satisfied grin.
“—none of them has dared to return.”
Joel cast a look to either side to see most of the activity had followed the grooms down to the waiting limos and no one’s focus was on them. “Let’s go!”
BACK at Joel’s flat, they shed jackets and shoes and sprawled out on Joel’s generous sofa. Matt felt strangely reluctant to change completely out of his opulent new suit—mind you, he’d have to wear it twenty-two hours out of twenty-four for the next ten years to recoup the cost, in anyone’s version of “fashion maths.”
Joel passed him a beer, and they clinked the bottles as their own cheers.
“It was a fabulous day,” Joel said. “Believe me, I didn’t have you on surveillance, but did you…?”
Matt chuckled. “I may have pocketed a couple of the exclusive booklets from the chapel for Jimmy.”
“I nabbed our breakfast place cards too.” Joel nodded. “You’ve turned me to a life of crime.”
Matt tensed briefly.
“It’s fine,” Joel said softly, then reached over to kiss him quickly, gently. “I meant it as a joke.”
Matt nodded and took a swig of his beer. “Well, that’s another palace we can cross off our visiting list. Gary’s got bragging rights at his local pub, now he has a cousin who mixes with the nobs.”
“Strictly speaking, it was a castle,” Joel corrected.
“Whatever. It wasn’t exactly Diss Parish Church, was it?” Matt wasn’t a regular churchgoer, but he’d visited a few times recently because Gary and Caro’s boys had been to the junior school associated with it. “Though if that offer we got last month on the Roman coins comes through, Gary can probably afford to build his own ruddy castle.”
Joel smiled, his gaze on Matt’s mouth. “Put down your beer,” he said, his voice low and a little rough.
Startled, Matt did as he was told. Now there was a rare event, he thought—and then Joel pulled him in for a proper kiss, and all thoughts were lost in the marvelously raw sensation of Joel’s damp, sexy, demanding lips. Kissing had taken on new importance in Matt’s life since meeting Joel Sterling.
“You looked so good in that suit.” Joel breathed into his ear. His hand was already sliding between Matt’s thighs, reaching to cup his thickening cock. “Could barely keep my hands off you.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait a little longer,” Matt said, and was gratified by Joel’s grunt of disappointment. “We have a wedding-day present of our own to open.”
“We do?”
Matt shifted his cock, now uncomfortable in the well-cut trousers, and reached behind the sofa. He lifted a plump, elegantly wrapped parcel and placed it on the coffee table. “The porter was holding it for us downstairs.”
“What is it?”
“I’m a fabulous man, like you keep telling me, but I’m not psychic.”
Joel snorted and started to unwrap it. Just inside the first layer of paper was a small, embossed card. “It’s a gift from the palace.”
“Maybe it’s a whole set of monogrammed cutlery,” Matt joked. “I confessed to the
theft of that fork from Hampton Court when I was being marched to the Tower of London!”
“No. Too quiet. Too soft.” Joel was squashing the parcel, trying to guess what it was. “And if it were something to do with our work, it would have been delivered to Starsmith.”
Matt’s heart warmed. Joel didn’t even realize his easy use of “our.” He was still CEO of Starsmith, but Matt had been welcomed onto the permanent design staff. Once Matt’s dad had confessed he’d been happy to sell his company and settle into a stress-free retirement, Matt had found it more palatable to become a corporate employee. Not that he’d work with anyone but Joel and the team. And not that he’d ever settle to being a submissive drone….
Joel ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Yes, you said that aloud,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling. “And I don’t think anyone would ever consider you a submissive drone, you sexy, passionate, opinionated, argumentative man.”
“Ah, but I’m your sexy—” Matt didn’t get a chance to finish, because Joel kissed him again and he kissed Joel back. Several minutes later, they snuggled back into their seats, breath slowing, hearts steadying, but still holding hands. Matt could taste the beer from Joel’s lips. A damn sight more agreeable than the champagne they could have been drinking tonight.
“What about the present?” he prompted. Yeah, he wanted to have sex with Joel—and soon—but he was intrigued by their gift. And there were other things he wanted to address tonight.
With a frustrated pout, Joel thrust the half-unwrapped parcel into Matt’s hands. Even before he’d ripped the rest of the paper off, Matt realized what it was. “It’s a bloody teddy bear!”
“Two of them.” Joel burst into laughter. “With matching T-shirts!”
“The official ones, I see.” Matt traced the beautiful Palace Diamond crown on the cuddly creature’s belly. The one he held had “Thank you, Matt” printed below the motif. He glanced up at Joel, who was studying his own bear, a distracted look in his eyes.