Under Pressure (No Pressure, No Diamonds Book 1)

by Kara Greenan

  Even though London knows better, he can’t believe she’s a criminal mastermind.

  They head to the check-in counter, Sebastian pulling up next to London. "What kind of stuff?"

  There's no line at the first-class counter and they draw up to it simultaneously. London looks at him with a smirk and hefts his luggage onto the scale. His arms snake around Sebastian's neck and he presses their bodies together. Sebastian’s eyes widen. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that. Good.

  The surprise doesn’t last long though.

  "Looking forward to the holiday?" he asks, sliding the girl both their passports. He pulls London closer and adds on an afterthought, "Baby?"

  Hah. Bring it, arsehole.

  "Well, love muffin, it's about time we got our honeymoon." London turns in Sebastian's arms and addresses the girl. "We've been married for almost two years and this one hasn't taken the time off work until now."

  She smiles at them warmly, professionally. "Better late than never. I do hope you have a wonderful time in Paris. It is the city of love, after all."

  "It is," London agrees, dripping so much fakeness Sebastian squeezes his hips in warning. "And this one is such a romantic, too."

  The girl coos while efficiently fastening a label to his lost and found luggage.

  London hefts Sebastian’s bag up for her next, pressing his back against Sebastian’s chest. “Almost set our flat on fire with all the candles he likes to set up.”

  “Hey,” Sebastian says slowly. London's arse is digging into his groin and he sounds just a little bit strained. “You liked it.”

  “Well, I am sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” she tells them with a bright smile, handing them their boarding passes and passports.

  “The best,” London chirps.

  Sebastian catches his hand, entwining their fingers. “Want me to buy you something, baby? Chocolate, or a pillow?”

  London holds out Sebastian’s wallet that he’d swiped right at the beginning. “That’s okay. I’ve got my own money.”

  Sebastian pats his empty pocket. “Hey. That’s mine.”

  “What’s yours is mine, isn’t that how marriage works?”

  Sebastian isn’t upset by the lift, which peeves London slightly.

  “You’re right,” he agrees, patting London’s bum. “Go buy yourself something pretty and show me later, yeah?

  London vows to max out his credit card, even if he has to buy the entire contents of the duty-free shop. And then he’ll make damn sure to swap seats with someone or at least pretend to sleep the entire flight.

  Venice, almost a year ago

  When Sebastian wakes up several hours later, he’s alone in bed. He twists and stretches, smiling up at the ceiling as all the little aches remind him of the incredible night he’s had. The bathroom door stands ajar, the inside dark and with no sound coming from it. He rolls out of bed and walks bare foot to the main room, his toes digging into the carpet with each step. London isn’t there either, but the door to the adjacent room is opened. He tries to be as quiet as possible as he walks through the door. London sits naked but for a sheet wrapped around his hips, legs crossed, his ear pressed to the cool metal of the safe, face turned away.

  “Are you robbing me?”

  London starts, having been concentrating so hard.

  “Blind,” he mutters.

  He’s sleep-tousled and warm looking. Sebastian wants to kiss the back of his neck.

  One turn of the dial later has London grinning widely at the little snick. With a simple twist of his wrist the safe swings open, revealing his prize.

  He grabs the statue, then points to the safe and grins up at Sebastian. “It’s a shitty make. Opened it by ear alone.” He looks around at the extravagant, antique furnishings, the exceptionally high ceilings and the unique view of the river through the huge windows. “How much are you paying for this dump?”

  Sebastian crouches behind him, giving in to the urge and kissing the patch of skin beneath his hairline. “Were you bored?” He props his chin on London’s shoulder, his fingers looking for the edge of the sheet.

  “A bit.”

  London twists his head for a kiss, taking Sebastian’s hand and guiding it up his leg.

  “Come to bed,” he whispers, gripping the flesh of London’s thigh for emphasis.

  “Why?” He looks Sebastian over suspiciously before rolling away, the damn sheet somehow staying in place. He clutches the statue close to his chest, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You just want to steal my David.”

  Sebastian quirks an eyebrow. “Your David?”

  London shows him his teeth. “Yes, mine. Just stole it, didn’t I?”

  Sebastian’s laugh is light as he falls to the chaise lounge. He arranges himself artfully under London’s watchful gaze. “Come here, then,” he rasps.

  London scrambles up, dropping the sheet before climbing into Sebastian’s lap. He reaches out to guide London’s hips, unable to get enough of the warm skin under his palms.

  “Here I am,” London whispers, squirming as he gets comfortable. “And I brought David.”

  Sebastian looks at the statue being wriggled in front of his face before settling his gaze back on London. He slides his palm up London’s back, pulling him down into a warm, slow kiss.

  “The one you just stole?”

  “That one,” London agrees. He stretches to place the sculpture onto the side table. He sits up again, his fingers idly playing with Sebastian’s piercings. “I’m bored now.”

  “Well, I might have an idea or two.”

  London chuckles. “Yeah? Does it involve you and coordination?”

  Sebastian can’t quite believe it, but he feels himself flush.

  “Shut up,” he mutters. “And yes. But first we can watch a movie or something.”

  London thinks about it for a second before shaking his head. “I’m going to take a bath in that huge tub of yours.”

  Sebastian perks up. “Can I join?”

  London twirls a strand of Sebastian’s hair around his finger. “I’m not sure. What do I get out of it?”

  “I’ll think of something,” Sebastian giggles, the sound foreign even to his own ears, before squirming out from under him and heading into the bathroom, twisting the faucets and pouring amazing smelling oils.

  He finds London sprawled out on his stomach on the bed, looking over a menu. He slides up London's body, kissing the back of his knee, his left bum cheek and finally biting down on the back of his neck gently.

  “Mm, you want to order food first?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sebastian kisses his shoulder. “Okay. Get me something too.”

  “Anything in particular? To help you coordinate?”

  Sebastian gets up and swats at London’s arse. “Oh I’ll coordinate you, all right.”

  Paris, present day

  “I hate this airport,” London complains the moment they land at Charles de Gaulle. He’s tapping his foot impatiently as they wait for their luggage.

  “Why?”

  London startles at the soft voice. He hadn’t expected Sebastian to listen to his muttering. “They lost one of my bags, once.”

  Sebastian drags his suitcase off the conveyer belt before turning back to him. “Was it even yours? Or one from lost and found?”

  London opens his mouth before snapping it shut again. “What’s it to you?”

  “Aw, baby, you know I care,” Sebastian says loudly. He steps in to hug London close, who immediately struggles under the grip, only to settle down under the glances of the people around them.

  He looks up at Sebastian with adoring eyes. When he speaks, his tone is nothing short of murderous.

  “The moment we get to the hotel, this charade ends.”

  Sebastian runs a hand down his side.

  “Don’t say that, baby,” he murmurs, not letting go. “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

  London ignores him after that, right until they’r
e in a cab and it’s nearly impossible to.

  "Hey, London?"

  London looks up from texting Wyatt. "Hmm?"

  "What exactly are we?"

  For just a moment, London freezes. Then he laughs, the fakeness clear and bright. "A thief and a grifter pretending to be a married couple with boring nine-to-five jobs?"

  "No, I meant," Sebastian shifts, running his hand through his untied hair. "Like, what are we doing?”

  Is he honestly bringing this up now? With Amelia and Hale in the row in front of them, and Frankie next to the driver?

  "We're getting a ride in a cab to our hotel in Paris," he says, his tone purposefully flat.

  "I wanted to take you home last night, but you looked almost... frightened."

  London snorts and returns his attention to his phone. He’s making arrangements for new gear, that’s way more important than Sebastian spinning a new angle on their shitty choices over the past few days.

  "I'm not afraid of you."

  Sebastian frowns, his hand reaching out to touch, but never actually connecting with London’s thigh. "I didn't think you were. But you do send some mixed signals. And I just wanted to know where we're at."

  He stops texting and looks up incredulously. When he speaks, it's in a controlled whisper, his anger clearly on the verge of tipping over into screaming territory. "You want to know where we're at?" Without looking down, he presses the send button on his phone and waits for the telltale sound of the message going through.

  "I'll tell you where we're at. We're colleagues, who used to be a bit more, until you decided to leave with nothing but a fucking note, Sebastian, one fucking word on a fucking post-it note! Now, by necessity, we are back to being colleagues. And we'll handle it as professionally as we can, before we can go our separate ways again."

  “I thought it would make it easier if it was a clean cut.” Sebastian isn’t looking at him, but down at his hands, like he believes the shit he’s talking.

  “Yes, that was so much better,” London says, his voice shaky yet laced with sarcasm. “Thanks for that. But that makes us more than officially over then, doesn’t it?”

  Sebastian attempts a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "What do we classify the two times we've had sex since beginning this job, then?"

  And it’s the absolutely wrong thing to say. London can feel his defenses slam into place, can feel the whirlwind of emotions shut down inside of him.

  He leans forward, his voice low and controlled. "Let me break it down for you. We clearly had different ideas on where this was heading back in Venice. And okay, to be fair, we didn't really talk about it. But you ended it, which is your right. Now stop stringing me along, Walker. You can't extort me and I will not supply you with the lifestyle you're used to. Which makes me absolutely useless to your cons, so just stop your games."

  "But what about --"

  London’s harsh glare is enough to silence him. "As for the two most recent times, they happened and I can't take them back, no matter how much I want to. So we'll just file those under 'huge mistake' and learn from it, alright?"

  Before Sebastian can come up with some ridiculous reason for them to keep seeing each other, he dials Wyatt, pressing the phone to his ear and flat out ignoring Sebastian’s attempts to get his attention.

  “‘Lo?”

  Wyatt’s voice is raspy, the way it was in the mornings when he’d just woken up, the children’s home’s hours not working for a natural night owl like him. Or later, when he’s taken a nap on London’s couch, waking up groggy but always quick to smile, always a ray of sunshine, even in London’s darkest hours.

  “Hey Wy,” he says softly, suddenly choked up.

  “London?” There’s some rustling. “You here already?”

  London smiles. God, he’s missed this great big idiot, his brother for all intents and purposes. “Yeah. On my way to the hotel.”

  “Yeah? Shit. Drop off your stuff and come over. I’ll order up something nice. Still opposed to sardines on pizza?”

  He chokes out a wet sob. “Yes, I still have taste buds, thank you very much.”

  He stays on the phone for the next fifteen minutes, prompting Wyatt to ask him twice if he really is okay. During it all he completely shuts out Sebastian next to him and the moment the cab stops outside their hotel, he squeezes outside, breathing in a desperate lungful of air. He barely waits for their luggage to be taken out of the boot before he turns to the driver, negotiating another fare.

  Sebastian steps up next to him, frowning at his rapid-fire exchange in French. “What’s going on?”

  London ignores him. “Hale? Could you take my bag upstairs?”

  Hale nods, looking at Sebastian with something akin to pity.

  He gets back into the car but Sebastian’s hand on the door keeps him from closing it.

  “Where are you going?”

  There’s so much he wants to say, all of it ugly and childish. He doesn’t want that, just wants to feel normal again, not like he’s caught in a storm, soaked to the bone and shivering from the cold.

  “Let go of the door, Sebastian.” He does, looking lost and for once, younger than his actual age. London rubs his eyes. “I’m going to pick up my gear.”

  “Okay.” Sebastian steps back, collecting himself. “I’ll see you later?”

  London nods, but doesn’t say anything.

  He doesn’t return until 3 AM.

  After letting Wyatt engulf him in a three-minute hug, he’d finally pulled away just enough to look up at him. “Did you put on more muscle? You’re fucking huge.”

  Wyatt had flexed his arm, laughing. The fresh shirt Wyatt had offered London after a quick shower looked ridiculous on him. Not that it mattered. The food still tasted good and the pleasant conversation distracted him wonderfully. They’d sorted through his gear meticulously before heading out for a midnight movie. With Wyatt, even a city as big and foreign as Paris felt like home. After Wyatt promised to bring his bag over the next day, London had walked the short way back to his hotel. Wyatt offered his place of course, but he knew they’d just get some beers and talk until the sun came up, and he really did have an early morning meeting.

  He lets himself into the hotel room without bothering to turn on the light. Instead he unwraps a complimentary toothbrush and start brushing, simultaneously slipping out of his shoes and placing them in the small hallway.

  The lamp on the bedside table springs to life.

  London bites down on the toothbrush, hard.

  “London?”

  Ah, fuck.

  “Isn’t this supposed to be Hale’s room?” he asks with a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

  Sebastian rubs his eyes. “You didn’t fake-marry Hale, Mr. Briggs. Where did you get that shirt?”

  “What?”

  “That shirt, is it from lost and found, too? Cause I don’t think that’s very hygienic.”

  London ignores him. “What are you doing here?”

  “In the hotel room?”

  “Yes.”

  Sebastian rubs his eyes again. “I’m sleeping? Well I was, until you came in.”

  London huffs loudly. He needs pajama bottoms, and there’s a neatly stacked pile of Sebastian’s clothes on the dresser.

  No, that would be a terrible idea.

  “Are those your clothes?”

  London smooths down the AC/DC logo on his chest. “No. From an old friend.”

  “Oh.” He can sense the question; he can sense Sebastian holding it back. It’s a credit to him, regardless of how else he defines his character.

  “I didn’t sleep with him.”

  “I… I didn’t. I mean. Thanks. For letting me know.”

  London practically flees that conversation by heading into the bathroom. He spits out the toothpaste and uses Sebastian's mouthwash to gargle somewhat obnoxiously. There’s expensive looking creams laid out. Sebastian is such a pretentious idiot London has to actively hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

&
nbsp; "Now," he says as he emerges. He wipes his mouth on a hotel towel and drops it right where he stands. "Where's Hale?"

  Sebastian sits up a bit, back resting against the soft headboard. The duvet drops down to his lap, exposing his naked torso. "In his bed, I'd presume."

  London doesn't move, just cocks his hip and narrows his eyes. "I’m bunking with him."

  "You're fake-married to me, why would you be doing anything with Hale?"

  London bares his teeth, stance getting more challenging. "Maybe I’m having a hot, steamy affair with him."

  Sebastian gets up by yanking the duvet away and jumping to his feet. The angry move would have been a lot more convincing if he hadn’t been buck-naked. London sends him a death glare, taking a few steps back from temptation.

  "Sorry,” Sebastian mumbles. He fishes out a pair of underwear from the stack of clothes and steps into them.

  London is holding out one hand, the other one covering his eyes. He's also shaking his head, muttering to himself under his breath.

  "Just tell me what room he's in."

  "I have no idea," Sebastian says and London knows it’s a fucking lie. A warm hand catches his waist and Sebastian pulls him close, leaning in to murmur into his ear. “I sleep much better when you’re there.”

  London almost gives in. It would be so easy to let Sebastian drag him onto the bed. And even if they didn’t have sex – which London highly doubts – sleeping pressed against his back would be the easiest thing in the world.

  Which is exactly why it’s such a bad idea.

  London squirms free and heads for the door, Sebastian hot on his heels.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Are you deaf? I am sleeping with Hale."

  "You could have phrased that differently," Sebastian mutters just as he opens the door. "And besides not knowing his room, you also don't have a key for it."

  London spins on his heels so abruptly, Sebastian just about manages not to crash into him.

  "Well," London says roughly. "I'm a fucking thief. I'm pretty sure I'll manage to get into a hotel room."

  They're close enough for him to smell the lotion on Sebastian’s skin. He wants to lean in and see if it tastes as good, too.