Kings and Butterflies

by Lina Langley

  Shandra shook her head. “More money than sense, staying at the Diamond.”

  “Should I go take a look?”

  He needed to know that she had things under control before he left the inn. Jackson was at the front desk, so his job in the mornings was easy, but Shandra needed to do a lot of work by herself if Dallas decided to just pop out because he was curious.

  She nodded as she smiled at him. “I got this. Still early for service.”

  “Thank you, Shandra. I’ll report back with anything I find.”

  “Good.”

  He took a few seconds to take off his apron and hairnet, making sure that he wasn't adding to any of her workload, and then he slowly walked out of the dining room and into the lobby.

  He looked around to make sure there was nothing there that needed his immediate attention, greeted Jackson with a nod, and then he went out into the street. It was very early, but it was already hellishly hot and sunny.

  Sometimes, if the inhabits of San Leandre were lucky, the early mornings would be a little bit cooler than the rest of the day. That hadn’t been the case lately, and even though he had only stepped out for a second, Dallas was pretty sure that he was already sweating.

  But that wasn't what he was focused on, he was focused on all the cars in front of him, the ones that were taking up space in the pedestrian only boardwalk that The Butterfly Inn was on.

  There were black vans and SUVs parked outside of the Diamond, a twenty-story tall hotel that made the inn look even more outdated and small by comparison.

  There were a bunch of people in suits, people who looked like they might be part of the Secret Service or something. They were all going in and out of the hotel, barely paying attention to the tourists that had gathered and were gawking at them.

  Some of the tourists already had drinks in their hands. They were sipping from covered sixteen ounces containers through dark thick plastic straws, slurping as they did so, leaning on each other and giggling and smirking.

  Dallas heard slurred theory after slurred theory, none of which were coherent in the slightest.

  It was probably earlier than eight in the morning, and people were already drinking. Or maybe they just hadn’t stopped drinking, which was far more likely, and that's why they were finding this weird scene so funny to watch.

  Dallas wasn’t finding it funny at all, he was worried.

  What if there were looking at the Diamond, the hotel across the street from The Butterfly Inn, because they were looking for Simon?

  He had liked Simon and that might have been the reason that he had decided to trust him instead of going with his gut when it came to him. His gut said that's Simon was up to no good. Maybe his family was pressuring him because they were big time drug dealers.

  And Dallas had taken his money. Worse than that, he had already spent his money.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Well, Dallas told himself as he took a deep breath, there was no way that he could have known.

  There was no way that they could pin it on him, if anything did end up happening.

  They couldn't just take back the money, or could they?

  Could Dallas get in legal trouble for paying for stuff with drug money? Oh shit, he would have to call a lawyer and he definitely didn’t want to.

  What was he going to say to a lawyer, that he'd taken money from a hot guy because he thought it would help him pay taxes so that he could keep the business running, and then he might have gone out with him on a date?

  His head was spinning. He needed to get to the bottom of this and now. He couldn't wait till they went out on a date, it needed to happen immediately. He couldn’t wait any longer. Any cute quirkiness that Dallas might have felt surrounded the mystery was instantly banished by the guys in the black suits. He practically ran back inside the inn. He ignored Jackson who was looking at him like he had lost his mind and a couple of guests that he was helping, knocking on Simon's door the moment that he got there.

  He knocked softly at first, but then he started ramping things up.

  He was insistent, far too insistent, because it felt like it took Simon ages to answer the door.

  It was annoying—but more than annoying it was concerning, to the point where Dallas wondered if Simon had left at some point during the night. Maybe asking him out on a date had been a ploy.

  Dallas didn’t like to think about that, but it could well be the case. Maybe he was some sort of master manipulator, which made sense, particularly if he was in the drug trade.

  Even very rich people didn't just drop $10,000 into other people's laps unless they truly, really didn’t care about money. He could only think of a couple of professions that didn’t and one of them was definitely dealing and trafficking drugs.

  The fact that Dallas had thought that he could get away with taking that money scot-free didn’t mean that Simon wasn’t a drug dealer, it just meant that Dallas was being an idiot.

  It was wishful thinking, probably, but he should have known better. Whatever the case was, he didn't want to deal with it anymore.

  He leaned against the door, taking a deep breath and banging against it with his closed fist, getting louder and louder. He could have used his key—he should have used his key—but he wanted everyone to know, if there was anyone watching him, that he’d had nothing to do with this.

  He wasn’t being watched, intellectually, he knew that.

  But if he’d just let himself in with his key, he thought he might be charged as an accessory to the crime or something.

  After what felt like forever, Simon finally opened the door. He looked tired, with morning stubble and bags under his eyes, but even while tired, Dallas noticed that he looked hot as hell, which Dallas didn’t think was fair.

  He was wearing a burgundy robe, which wasn't tied at the waist, so Dallas could see that he was wearing gray pants but no shirt. He could see the outline of his abs, the V on his body from the way that his pants were sitting.

  Shit, he had to stop himself from drooling over this guy. He was there to ask for an explanation, not to ogle at him, and certainly not for a booty call.

  He swallowed and then he took a deep breath. “Hey, do you know what's going on across the street?”

  Simon rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, which was adorable, as he shook his head. He yawned and leaned against the frame of the door, setting his gaze on Dallas and cocking his head. “Is everything okay?”

  Dallas tried to take another deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. “I don't know. You tell me.”

  “You look upset.”

  “I am upset. There's something going on across the street, and I think it has something to do with you.”

  “Why do you think it has something to do with me?” Simon asked, clearly amused.

  Dallas didn’t think it was funny. “There are men outside the Diamond. They’re wearing black suits, they are in SUVs and vans, and people are stopping to watch them.”

  Simon’s eyes narrowed. “Okay.”

  “They don't look like the police, they look like… I don’t know, detectives or the secret service or something. I don't know, okay?”

  “Right.”

  The more that Dallas spoke, the less he felt like Simon was taking him seriously. “But you're sketchy, and I think they're looking for you.”

  “I’m not sketchy.”

  “You gave me ten grand to stay here for a week. And you’re not sketchy?”

  “I can explain that.”

  “Okay. Start explaining now, Simon.”

  “I don’t think you would believe me.”

  Dallas rolled his eyes. “Start explaining anyway, because unless you at least try to explain, I’m going to need you to leave.”

  Simon swallowed, looking away from Dallas. “You need me to leave?”

  “Look, I appreciate the money and everything but I can't afford to keep you around if you're going to get my business shut down for like a week, or however long an investigation ta
kes.”

  “An investigation? An investigation into what?”

  “I don't know. You tell me. You’re the sketchy one!”

  “Stop it,” Simon said, smiling. Dallas made his hands into fists at his sides, trying to steady his breathing, though he didn’t feel like he was making any progress.

  The more that Simon stood there just looking at him, as if this wasn't his fault, as if he hadn't said anything to Dallas that made him suspicious of him, the more that Dallas felt like things were slipping out of his control.

  He wanted to punch him, but then he didn't want to get into any more trouble than he had to, because he was pretty sure that his drug buddies were going to beat him up when they could if he even laid a finger on Simon.

  Simon tutted, clearly getting impatient with him. “I'm not a drug dealer. I'm not involved in any sort of illegal activity, I promise.”

  Dallas narrowed his eyes. “I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

  At least the stupid smile was wiped off his face when Simon next spoke. “I don't care. It's true.”

  Dallas dropped his voice to a whisper as he got closer to him, so close that he could see the lines around his eyes, the ridges on his lips, his lower lip slightly larger than his top lip.

  He was so beautiful.

  That was probably why Dallas had been so stupid, because Simon was so beautiful. If he hadn’t been movie star, brain-mush gorgeous, Dallas didn’t think that he would have taken the money at all.

  He didn’t like to think about how shallow he had to be for that to be the main reason that he took the money, so he didn’t. He shook his head, swallowed and looked straight into Simon’s beautiful brown eyes.

  Fuck.

  Normal brown eyes.

  Drug dealer eyes.

  God, what was wrong with him? Why did he get so stupid around this guy? He decided that he had to focus on the task at hand and ignore how good looking he was.

  “Who the fuck just happens to have $10,000 in their pocket?”

  Simon shook his head, looking down at the floor. “Come on in, I'll explain. You just… you have to listen, okay?”

  “I'm listening.”

  Simon took a deep breath. “No, inside.”

  “Why?”

  Simon shook his head again, gesturing to invite Dallas into his room. Dallas swallowed as he took a step forward. He wasn't sure if this was a stupid or dangerous idea, but he needed to know the truth. If the truth was that he wasn't a drug dealer, or a dangerous man, then Dallas would feel a lot better. If it was, Dallas thought he might be able to get away from him. He was almost sure.

  He was small and quick, even if he wasn’t particularly strong. He didn't think that he was going to be able to take Simon down in a fight, but he was getting ahead of himself.

  Maybe Simon wouldn’t hurt him. Maybe he was telling the truth about not doing anything illegal.

  “Five minutes. You have five minutes to explain what's going on.”

  Simon nodded. “Okay. I'm not going to need that long.”

  “Clock’s ticking, Simon. If that’s even your name.”

  “My name is Simon. It's not my only name, but it is what most of my friends call me,” Simon said, sitting down on the unmade bed. His robe slipped off his shoulders, which were broad and manly. Dallas shook his head, reminding himself that he wasn't there to ogle him.

  He was there to talk, he was there to get answers. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and training his gaze on Simon's face. “Okay, so Simon is one of your names. What are your other names?”

  “My name is Leopold Simon Edward Sebastian de Montmarte.”

  Dallas blinked. “Your name is what now?”

  “Leopold Simon Edward Sebastian de Montmarte. But like I told you, my friends call me Simon.”

  “So what… I mean, thank you for telling me your name, but what the fuck does that mean for me? Does that mean you’re not a criminal?”

  Simon scoffed then he held back a chuckle. “You’re not… Okay, how much do you know about European royalty?”

  Dallas raised his eyebrows. “You've got to be kidding me.”

  “Okay, I know it's kind of hard to believe,” Simon said, then took a deep breath. “Just listen to me and then if you still want me to leave, I will.”

  Dallas swallowed. “I don't know. That sounds really weird.”

  “Dallas, just listen. That would be enough,” Simon said. “That's all you have to do and if you still feel like I'm sketchy, I'll leave the inn. You never have to reimburse me the money, you never have to think about me again.”

  “Okay,” Dallas replied and licked his teeth. “Fine. I’m listening.”

  “You know how I told you that I come from an European country that you’ve never heard of?”

  Dallas nodded.

  “Right. I come from the Kingdom of Maitje. It’s a really old, tiny country, famous for how rich we are. And cured meat.”

  “Wait, hold on, let me get this straight. You're famous for being rich and for cured meats?”

  “Not me, my country. I mean, we're technically famous for our wool too,” Simon offered, staring at Dallas.

  Dallas’ jaw dropped open as he tried to process what Simon had just told him. He shook his head and took a deep breath, waving his hand in front of his face. “I have never heard of your country, and I have never heard of your wool.”

  “You wouldn’t have, it’s… prestigious.”

  “Wow, your wool is prestigious so I would have never heard of it?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Whatever,” Dallas replied, shaking his head. “So you’re from the Kingdom of Maitje? Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Right, that's a little bit more complicated.”

  Dallas raised his eyebrows. He was resisting the urge to whip his phone out and google Simon’s story, though he would do that the moment that he left his room.

  At least he didn’t feel like he was in danger anymore.

  Simon was probably delusional.

  The matter of the ten grand that he had given Dallas still remained.

  Simon took a deep breath as he kept talking. “Not why I'm in America, why I'm in your inn.”

  “Start with America?” Dallas said when he saw that Simon was struggling. He wasn’t sure that he believed him, but he seemed to think that he wasn’t lying, so he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus, he was saying it with so much conviction, it was putting his mind at ease. He liked Simon’s voice too and despite himself, he was enjoying standing against the floor and listening to him talk. He liked his accent and his low voice.

  Shit, he needed to get a grip of himself again.

  He couldn’t let himself get carried away with how charming this guy was.

  “Simon.”

  “Right. I came to America two years ago to study. My family normally studies back in Europe, but because I was really sick of all the press, I talked my mom into letting me come to the States to do my master’s degree.”

  “The press?” Dallas asked, cocking his head.

  Simon nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. His robe finally completely slipped off when he set his hand down on the bed again and Dallas tried hard not to stare at his gorgeously sculpted, slightly hairy chest.

  His mouth was watering while he was looking at it and he needed to keep things professional.

  He still didn’t know if Simon was telling the truth, and if he wasn’t, he was going to have to kick him out of the hotel.

  “I told you that you weren't that far off with the soap comparison?”

  Dallas nodded, his arms at his sides, as he shifted his weight. Was he getting hard? That would have been embarrassing. Luckily, unlike Simon, he was wearing jeans, which meant that he could hide his erection almost entirely. “Yup, you did say that.”

  Simon watched him, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, so my family is the royal family of my count
ry, which means that all of our movements are scrutinized. They have been since we were all kids.”

  “Since you were all kids?”

  “Right, me and my brothers, but my father had it too, and his father before him. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm lucky.”

  “Yeah, if you're what you say you are, you're definitely lucky.”

  “No, I mean I'm very lucky because I'm the youngest of all,” Simon said as he shook his head. “My oldest brother is going to be king, when my father abdicates, or when he dies, whatever happens first. But my father is in great health, he’s a relatively young king, and I think he's going to rule for a long time to come.”

  Dallas watched him, blinking a couple of times.

  “Sorry, I'm just trying to make you understand my circumstances,” Simon said, looking away from him. “I know that I’ve kind of gone on a tangent, but I promise it's all related.”

  “Right,” Dallas said, though it didn’t seem right at all.

  Simon took another breath, setting his gaze on Dallas’ eyes. “Because I'm the youngest, I have a lot of pressure but it's not as bad as what my brothers feel. I’m never going to rule, honestly, I’m kind of the spare.”

  “The spare?”

  “That’s what the press calls me, anyway,” Simon said, a smile on his face. Dallas didn’t think that it quite reached his eyes. “It's the only reason that my mother let me come here to study. She knew that I was sick of the press, she knew that I felt like I was being suffocated.”

  Dallas resisted the urge to scoff. “Sounds like you had a very hard time.”

  “No, I don’t want you to think I don't know that I'm very lucky and very privileged. I really do, Dallas.”

  “Okay.”

  “Seriously. I don't want to bore you with my problems, and I know in the grand scheme of things they are not a big deal at all. But I was feeling kind of unhappy, and I thought maybe going to a different continent could help. I wasn’t wrong, it was definitely easier to be here, at least until the tabloids found me.”

  “The tabloids found you?”

  “Yes. When they did, they started to report back in my country, and everything that I was doing became national news.”

  Despite how stoic he wanted to remain, Dallas could feel himself softening toward Simon. He didn’t like it at all.