“Am I interrupting something?” A voice from the door made Kael turn in surprise. The minute he saw Matilda Thornton’s face, he broke into a smile.
“Hello, Mattie.” He released Conran, who leaned forward, turning away. Thornton probably thought Kael had hit the man, which was better than her knowing the truth. At least Conran would prefer it that way.
Smiling up at him, she said, “Hello, sir. Nice to see you. It’s been ages.”
“Not since you and Angel rescued me from that cellar in Paris last April,” Kael said. “Where have you been all evening? I haven’t seen you.”
“I wasn’t actually invited to the party. Not senior enough, I suppose,” she said. “I was out with my sister and my mates. I just got a call from Mr. Conran to get over here.”
“That’s why you’re not wearing a smart black dress.” Slender and blonde, Mattie was dressed for a nightclub in a little sparkly minidress and high heels. “You look adorable.”
“Oh, well, thanks.” She was clearly surprised at the compliment.
Conran coughed to draw their attention. “Close the door, Thornton.” Having apparently recovered, he sat behind his desk. Kael wondered if he still had a hard-on or if it was the wet patch on his trousers he was hiding. Kael sat, but Mattie, as the junior member, remained standing, obviously unsure about taking liberties. Kael pointed at the other chair, and she smiled and took a seat.
“Thornton has been asking to work with you again,” Conran said.
“I’m surprised you’d want to after the mess I got myself into in France,” Kael said.
“No way! You were a real hero, rescuing that little Russian girl,” Mattie said.
“He certainly was, but this meeting is about another Russian,” Conran interrupted. “Arkadiy Romodanovsky.”
“Isn’t he that new bloke who claims he’s going to wipe out organized crime in Russia?” Kael asked.
Conran looked at Kael. “Yes. He’s actually been in public life for years but only recently in politics. He comes from one of those old aristocratic families who ran for their lives during the revolution yet somehow managed to hang on to a good deal of their wealth. Most of them moved west. Arkadiy Romodanovsky was born in Switzerland in 1948 and raised there. He now lives full-time in Russia. He’s been an ambassador, a diplomat, and in all kinds of powerful positions over the years, especially since perestroika. Now he’s in politics.”
If Conran wanted the man dead, Mattie would not have been invited to sit in on the discussion. “What do you want me for?”
“Romodanovsky has a meeting at Downing Street on the fifth. You’re going to keep him from getting killed while he’s there, because the Russian mob would love to put a bullet in him.”
“What about me, sir?” Thornton asked, her eyes shining with excitement.
“You’ll do whatever Saunders tells you.”
“Yes, sir.” Her enthusiasm was touching. Kael was fonder of her than he had realized.
“He’ll be here only twenty-four hours, and then he moves on to France and becomes their problem,” Conran continued. “His own security will be stationed around Number 10. Your detail is inside the house only.”
“Isn’t that MI5’s job? Or Special Branch?” Kael asked. “I’m not a babysitter. And why isn’t he using his own security inside Number 10?”
Steepling his fingers, a gesture Kael always found affected, Conran said, “The prime minister doesn’t trust them. He doesn’t want any mistakes while Romodanovsky is here, and he’s not keen on armed Russians inside his domicile. Outside, Romodanovsky can use his own men, but inside Number 10, he will be watched like a hawk by you. We aren’t anticipating any problems. The mob is far more likely to go after him on their own turf, but men like him will always be in danger.”
“So why do I have to be annoyed with the fucker?” He paused and looked at Mattie. “Oops, sorry.”
“For what?” Mattie asked.
“Bad language,” Kael said.
Confusion creasing her brow, Mattie said, “You always use bad language, sir. The air was blue when we were at Herstmonceux Castle, not to mention Paris.”
“But that was work, and you weren’t wearing a dress. You were just one of the boys then.”
Mattie burst out laughing. Conran smiled too, despite their encounter a few moments ago. “The PM asked for you in particular, Saunders. That’s why MI5 is not involved.”
Surprised, Kael looked at Conran. “Really? How does he even know who I am?”
“It’s his job to know everything or at least to be informed of everything,” Conran said. “You’ll get further instructions the day before. I’ve chosen the team. Thornton, you’re part of it.”
“Thanks, sir.” She was as enthusiastic as a child on an outing.
Conran looked at Kael. “They know you’re in charge and you’ve worked with them all before, or you’ve taught them.”
“Were they happy?” He didn’t give a shit if they were happy as long as they recognized his leadership.
“Nobody is ever happy when they have you to deal with—except Thornton, it seems. She must be mad,” Conran said.
The door opened quietly, and Angel walked in, smiling at once when he saw Mattie. “Hey, Mattie!”
“Hello, mate!”
“It’s nearly midnight. Are you all coming into the other room to do the Happy New Year thing?”
“We were about to come,” Kael said, rising.
“You look great,” Mattie told Angel. She stood and took his wing tips between her fingers and thumbs. “Very stylish. Your hair’s much longer.”
“Thanks!” Angel gave her a kiss.
The house fell into silence. Even the string quartet ceased playing when the grandfather clock in the hall began to chime the hour. Instead of joining the party, the four remained still, listening. For the last three chimes, Angel and Mattie looked at each other and screamed out the numbers in unison. “Three, two, one! Happy New Year.” Laughing, they hugged each other, and then Angel turned to Kael.
“Happy New Year, Daddy. I love you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said, so naturally and with no hesitation at showing his love to anyone present. For some reason he could not fathom, Kael felt a lump constrict his throat, and couldn’t reply. Pulling Angel against his chest, he hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mattie and Conran shake hands.
Kael sucked in a long breath to steady his voice. “I love you too,” he whispered self-consciously.
Releasing him, Angel went to Conran and threw his arms around him. “Happy New Year, Mr. Conran.”
No longer surprised at Angel’s enthusiastic hugs, Conran hugged him back while Mattie watched in surprise.
Wow
, she mouthed at Kael. Shyly she stepped forward, extending her hand to shake, then changed her mind and put her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek into his chest. “Happy New Year, sir.”
She was no more than five feet four, more than a foot shorter than Kael. Angel’s slender body felt breakable sometimes, even though the boy had been working hard at the gym, but Mattie felt so tiny, so like Misha had felt on the rare occasions they hugged, that for a moment he considered telling Conran he didn’t want her on his team. But that would insult the young woman, and he respected her too much to do that. Misha had compensated for her small size by being fast and fearless. Mattie would do the same.
“Happy New Year, Mattie.” Kael gave her a little squeeze and let her go.
“Let’s go back to the party,” Angel said.
“I’d better go,” Mattie said. “I have to meet my friends and my sister again.”
Angel followed her out of the room. Conran finally came out from behind his desk, drawing Kael’s gaze to the small semen stain on his crotch. “No one will notice,” Kael said, pointing at it.
“I shouldn’t have made that remark. It was thoughtless,” Conran said. “As for the answer to your question about Angel, you are perfectly suited. He loves you. Anyone can see that, and he’s not shy to state it loudly.”
“In that case”—Kael shook his hand—“happy New Year.”
With one finger, Conran touched the gold heart, Angel’s Christmas present to Kael. “That’s beautiful. Only a man as masculine as you could get away with wearing a gold heart-shaped necklace with a tuxedo and not look like one of those metrosexuals. You see them in the city all the time with their jewelry and expensive suits.”
“You wear expensive suits.” Conran was always in extremely well-tailored apparel.
“Yes, but they get their nails done.” He shuddered.
Kael had almost put his white dress shirt on over the necklace and at the last minute had put it on the outside, hanging just below his bow tie. “It was Angel’s Christmas present to me. He’s happy when I wear it.”
“You’ll miss him when he’s away at university.”
For months Kael had been consumed with thoughts of how lonely he would be when Angel was no longer at home full-time. But he wanted his boy to have every opportunity. “It’s for the best.”
With his hand on the door handle, Conran said, “I’d better go and kiss Portia.”
“Do you really love your wife?” Kael could not imagine anyone loving that snobbish, horse-faced woman.
“Yes, we’re also perfectly suited.” Conran preceded Kael into the hall.
Standing at the open double doors of the drawing room, Portia Conran waved at her husband. “Where have you been, Stephen?” She always sounded as if she was nagging him.
“Happy New Year, darling.” Conran took her into his arms and gave her a brief kiss.
“Happy New Year, Mrs. Conran,” Kael said.
“Mr. Saunders, are you enjoying yourself?” She had been shocked when she found out he was gay. The obvious sexual interest she once had in him had fled. “And your”—she sought the right word—“partner? Is that the word you use?”
“Yes.” Kael always felt the urge to say something cutting to the woman, but he held himself back masterfully. “Partner is fine. And I think he’s having fun, Mrs. Conran. He looks as if he is.”
“Call me Portia, Mr. Saunders.”
“Call me Kael, Portia.”
“That is a very odd name.” She squinted at him. “It’s a type of cabbage, did you know?”
Conran grabbed his wife by the arm, all but dragging her away.
Sorry, sorry
, he mouthed over his shoulder at Kael. Boys at College Grange had got punched in the face for that remark.
Kael followed them into the drawing room to find Angel.
* * * *
“Daddy, did anyone ever pick on you in school?” Angel got quietly into bed beside Kael and snuggled into his side as he always did. After the party, they had walked the thirty minutes or so from Holland Park to home through the cool evening air, sobering up as they went. But they were both tired now.
“No, they never dared.”
“Did you ever bully anyone?”
Thinking carefully before he answered, Kael said, “If anyone tried it on with me, I made them wish they hadn’t. If you were to ask the boys who knew me at school, they might have called me a bully, but by my definition a bully goes after someone he thinks is weaker than him or can’t fight back, and I never did that. I only went after the ones who went after me first.” Angel ran his hand over Kael’s hard, hairless chest, making his nipples tighten. “Hang on. Has someone been picking on you at college?”
When Angel didn’t answer at once, Kael knew something had happened. “Yeah. This big, overweight kid, Aubrey Carey-Fox. He started at Redmond last September to do his A levels, and he’s in two of my classes. You know Jack’s not at Redmond now? He did his As last year and now he’s doing a gap year.”
“Yes, but you’ve got other friends, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve got lots of friends.”
“So what’s the fat boy up to?”
Angel sighed. “He calls me ‘the little queer’ and makes fun of my accent, you know, imitating me all the time.” Angel was the only American at the exclusive, independent sixth-form college he attended to get his university entrance requirements. “I could call him names. There’s lots of scope there. But I don’t. He’s seen you drop me off at school a few times, and he thinks it’s hilarious to say, ‘Who’s the scary, bald bloke?’”
“What do you tell people about me?” Kael asked.
“Exactly what you told me to tell them, Daddy. That I’m your ward. Except Jack. He knows I’m your boy.”
“Does anyone ever ask what I do for a living?”
“Jack has asked a few times. I told him you’re a security consultant and a language teacher, and beyond that I have no idea what your job involves.”
“Good lad,” Kael said. “And don’t worry about Fatso. I’ll sort him out. As soon as term starts again, you point him out to me.”
“Daddy, no. I have to do it myself.” Angel leaned up on one elbow to look down at him.
“Yes, of course you do.” Angel was more than capable of looking after himself with the various methods of self-defense Kael had taught him over the last fifteen months. “You have to get him on his own.” Remembering the tactics he had used when he was at College Grange Independent School all those years ago, he said, “You either lure him or lie in wait. I always used to use a weapon to get the message across—a belt or a shoe—but I didn’t have any self-defense training then. I went on instinct.”
“Daddy—” Angel said, but Kael continued.
“Tell him there’ll be no more crap and give him a straight-fingered jab to the throat. Not too hard. You don’t want to kill the bugger. And then a kick to the balls. Works every time.”
“Daddy!”
“What?”
“I don’t want to hit him. Not unless I absolutely have to.”
Incredulous, Kael asked, “Why not?”
“I want to try diplomacy first. Knocking the crap out of someone should be a last resort.”
Kael shrugged. Perhaps the boy was right. “All right, sweetheart. But if you change your mind, Daddy will knock his teeth down his throat. How’s that?”
Leaning forward, Angel kissed him tenderly on the lips. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Aroused by both the kiss and the softness in Angel’s voice, Kael said, “Put your head on my shoulder and your hand on my cock.”
“Mmmm.” Angel smiled and obeyed.
Kael pressed the button on the bedside console, sinking them into darkness before he wrapped his arm around his boy. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as Angel’s sweet, unique scent filled his head and the boy’s strong, cool hand closed over his cock. For several long minutes, Kael lay absolutely still, aware of nothing but the comforting, loving presence of his boy and the fist enveloping his cock, creating a hot friction as it moved up and down.