by Ella Frank
“I don’t blame you at all. I only wish I hadn’t missed it.”
“You know,” Robbie said as he too brought out his phone, “he did give it to me to keep for the next time I felt…inspired.”
Julien started to laugh. “Make your calls, princesse. I have some serious groveling to do. But once you’re done, let’s talk more about this. Especially since I’ll already be down on my knees.”
Robbie leaned over, placed his lips by Julien’s ear, and said, “Oui s’il te plaît.”
Julien smiled and couldn’t help himself from taking that sweet French-talking mouth with his one more time before he called up Gail Knight to see if he could save his restaurant opening from being dragged through the mud.
Chapter Twenty-Five
CONFESSION
I used to be scared of storms.
Until I realized with a storm you have warning.
Now it’s the calm I fear.
“OKAY, I WANT you to both be honest.” Robbie’s voice filtered out from behind the dressing room door where he’d been locked away for the past five minutes changing into what had to be his hundredth suit of the day.
Priest and Julien had both found theirs fairly quickly and then taken up a seat to discuss where they should go for lunch while they waited for Robbie, and when Priest heard the lock disengage, they turned to see the door slowly open.
As Robbie came into view, Priest stopped talking and found all his words left his mind. Robbie was wearing a navy-blue suit that molded to every line of his body, and as if that wasn’t eye-catching enough, when the lights hit the material a certain way, tiny silver glints shone out of it, making the material sparkle.
It was dazzling and so blatantly Robbie that it had Priest’s cock reacting as though he’d walked out of that dressing room naked.
Robbie ran a hand over his lapel and looked down at his jacket, and Priest couldn’t have imagined an outfit that would suit him more or make him look more radiant.
Julien seemed to be having a similar problem too, judging by the way he’d also stopped talking to look at Robbie. But he recovered first, uncrossed his legs, and got to his feet. “Mon Dieu. You look beautiful, princesse.”
Robbie raised his head to look at them, and when he caught their expressions, he seemed to realize the impact he’d just made. “You like?”
Julien nodded as he walked closer, and Robbie took a step forward so he could wander around behind him.
“Mmm, I definitely do.”
Priest got to his feet, and as he walked over and stopped in front of Robbie, he slipped his fingers under the lapel and stroked them down it. “This is the one.”
Robbie frowned. “But I have three more—”
“Robert?”
“Yes?”
“This is the first one that has Julien behind you, and me in front of you, wishing we had you somewhere private so we could really enjoy this suit of yours. I now see your fascination with them.”
Robbie opened his mouth to say something in response. But then Julien moved in, slid his hands around Robbie’s waist, and said, “This suit… It makes me want to rub myself all over you, princesse. I can barely keep my hands off you.”
Robbie bit down on his lip and leaned back into Julien, a dreamy smile curving his mouth. “Umm,” he said, and turned his head to face Julien. “I hate to break it to you, but your hands are on me.”
Julien kissed him on the nose, and then slipped his palm over the erection Priest was now eyeing in Robbie’s pants. “Non, they’re on the suit, not you.”
Robbie sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”
Priest laughed, bringing Robbie’s attention back to him. “This suit brings out your eyes,” Priest said, and then traced a finger over Robbie’s lower lip. “Let us buy it for you.”
“Wh…what? No. You don’t have to do that. I can—”
“We’d like to,” Julien said in his ear.
“So let us.”
Robbie swallowed and arched a brow at Priest. “You know it’s not fair to double-team me like this.”
The image those words brought to mind was exactly the one Robbie wanted, judging by the devilish grin that curved his lips. Rascal.
“And here we thought you liked it when we did that.” Priest and Julien released him, both knowing if they continued down this path they were going to end up doing something that would likely get them thrown out of the store, and possibly into jail.
“I do,” Robbie said as he sashayed back to the dressing room, and as he slipped inside and the door closed behind him, he called out over his shoulder, “But I much prefer wearing nothing at all for those occasions.”
Julien chuckled as he walked over to where Priest stood staring at the dressing room, and then he asked, “How’s your heart doing there, Mr. Priestley?”
Priest wrapped his arm around Julien’s waist, and as they headed back to their seats, he said, “About the same as yours, I’d hazard to guess.”
“Completely and utterly sunk, then?”
Priest took hold of Julien’s chin and kissed him nice and deep until finally he raised his head and replied, “Oui, like an anchor in the deepest ocean, Mr. Thornton. Completely and utterly sunk.”
“ONE ORDER OF mozzarella sticks and one loaded potato skins?” the waitress said, as she came to a stop at the edge of the table and all three men seated in it turned to stare up at her.
Julien frowned, not at all excited by what she held in her hands, but Robbie, who was seated beside him, nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s us.”
She slid them down onto the tabletop, smiled, and said, “Your mains will be out soon. Enjoy.”
As she walked away, Julien picked up one of the small fried cheese sticks and held it up for inspection, then lowered it to the plate and said, “Why are we eating here, again?”
Robbie took two potato skins from the main plate and scooped a dollop of some sour cream on top of them. “Because it was my pick and I like it here.”
Julien looked around the restaurant—or brewhouse, as they called it—and took in the bar at the center with sports on the television behind it, and the booths that lined the walls and angled its patrons to the televisions in each corner.
It wasn’t overly crowded for a weekday, and Julien couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”
Robbie had just finished swallowing a mouthful of food when he looked over at him and grinned. “Because the food is great and the atmosphere is relaxed. Well, most of the time. You are a snob, Mr. Thornton.”
Priest smirked, reached for one of the cheese sticks, and dunked it in the marinara sauce. “You’re only now working that out?”
Robbie shook his head. “No, I guess not. But I’ve never seen someone so offended by a mozzarella stick.”
“Pardon,” Julien said, as he sat back in his seat and aimed a haughty look at the two laughing at him. “I just asked why you liked this place, that’s all.”
Robbie made a show of licking his fingers. “Because it’s full of greasy, yummy goodness.” When Julien screwed his nose up, Robbie laughed even harder. “You should try some.”
“I think I’ll wait for my main meal.”
“Wow,” Robbie said. “If you lift that French nose of yours much higher, you’re gonna give yourself a nosebleed.”
“Just because I care about what I put in my mouth—”
“Which we are both extremely thankful for,” Priest said, and winked at Robbie, who looked like he might melt under that unexpected and flirty move from him.
“Doesn’t mean that I’m a snob.”
“You’re right,” Priest said, as he picked up another mozzarella stick, clearly enjoying himself. “The fact that you picked the cheese stick up and inspected it like a surgeon, and then put it down and refused to taste it? That makes you a snob, mon cœur.”
Robbie laughed, as he picked up his glass of Coke to take a sip. “Priest’s right.”
“I drink a gree
n juice every morning for breakfast. I don’t do that because I like it,” Julien said, and glared at Priest, who was smirking—smug bastard. “I do it because it’s healthy. I’m not putting that in me.”
Priest bit down on one of the cheese sticks and bared his teeth in a wicked grin, before making a show out of chewing and swallowing it. “As long as you consider me healthy and keep putting me in you, I find I really don’t care if you like the cheese sticks or—”
Priest’s words came to an abrupt halt, and as his eyes left Julien’s and rose over his and Robbie’s heads, he lowered his half-eaten cheese stick to the plate in front of him.
“Priest?” Robbie said, as all humor and color drained from Priest’s face. “Priest? Are you—”
Priest held up a finger, and Julien swiveled on his seat to see what had caught Priest’s attention. As soon as he spotted the news story up on one of the televisions, he knew.
Julien turned back around in time to see Priest sliding out from his side of the booth to stand, and Robbie was looking up at him with confusion all over his face.
“Priest?” Robbie said, and reached for his hand. When he got his fingers around it, Priest finally looked down at them, and Julien could see that same fear from a few weeks ago creeping back into his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Robbie asked, and looked over his shoulder at the television, and that was when he saw what they both had. The top news story of the day: Jimmy Donovan, one of New Orleans’ most notorious crime bosses, was up for parole after agreeing to co-operate with the feds.
Julien cursed under his breath and then looked at his husband, and all he could think was: Not now, not when we were finally having a moment of normalcy. When we were finding our way back to happiness. Don’t do this to him. Then he said, “Joel?”
Priest’s eyes shifted over to him, and Julien could see his brain was already elsewhere. He was already thinking about what this all meant for him, for them, for one of the most well-known criminals in America, who was currently being talked about on the television.
“Do you need to go home? To the office? Talk to me Joel,” Julien said, knowing Priest would likely need to call Henri, and when Priest didn’t answer, Robbie spoke up.
“What’s going on?” When he turned to Julien for answers he wasn’t getting from Priest, Julien looked to his husband for some kind of direction.
This was it, their final piece of baggage—and it was heavy. It seemed fitting that it came on the heels of his own. But there was no more hiding it from Robbie. Not when this had the potential to blow Priest’s world—and theirs—the fuck apart. This was about to become one of the biggest news stories in the nation, and it would leave an indelible impact on all three of them.
“Priest?” Robbie asked again, and then looked back at the screen. “Jimmy Donovan. I’ve seen documentaries on him, I think. That’s crazy they’re going to let him out. He killed a bunch of people, right?”
Priest’s jaw ticked, but finally he nodded. “Nineteen.”
Robbie frowned, but then, as if he’d worked it all out, he said, “Oh, shit. Is is he a client of yours?”
“No,” Priest replied, but didn’t elaborate.
Julien reached across the back of the booth and put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. He squeezed it, trying to offer some sort of comfort to Robbie as well as himself, because seeing Priest like this, so paralyzed, so affected, was jarring.
When the news story ended, Priest finally tore his eyes off the screen and looked at the two staring at him. “Julien? Can you please take Robert home? When you get there, call me.”
Julien nodded. “Of course. Joel—”
“I need to go to the office, but I won’t be long. Promise me you’ll go straight home.”
“We will,” Julien said, his heart beating overtime.
Priest was scared. Not only for himself but for Julien and Robbie, and that made Julien want to comfort the little boy he could see in Priest’s eyes. The little boy Jimmy had terrorized and left behind. But Priest’s no-nonsense voice relayed just how serious this was, and the direct stare he had fixated on Julien, as if to make sure he understood and did not deviate from what he was telling him, was terrifying.
Robbie shook Priest’s hand. “Would you please tell me what the hell is going on?”
Priest turned his impenetrable stare on Robbie and said, “Jimmy Donovan isn’t a client of mine, Robert. He’s my father.”
Just as the words left Priest’s mouth, the waitress arrived with their meals on a tray and an over-the-top smile on her face.
“Okay, folks. I have a portabella mushroom and Swiss burger, a—”
“We won’t be needing those,” Julien said as he watched all color drain from Robbie’s face.
“Uh…okay. Would you like me to box them for—”
“No,” Julien said. “You can give it to someone else. I’ll pay for it at the front. We need to leave.”
As the waitress went to say something else, Priest glanced over his shoulder, and one look at his face had her shutting her mouth and hurrying away.
Robbie still hadn’t said anything in response to Priest’s reveal. It was as though he were frozen to his seat, unable to move a single muscle, so Julien glanced up at his husband and said softly, “Go. I’ll look after him.”
Priest aimed his eyes at Robbie and gave a clipped nod. “Remember. Straight home, Julien.”
“Got it,” Julien said, and as Priest left, Julien looked over at Robbie to see him staring off in the exact same direction he had since Priest had stood. His expression was one of confusion and fear and…betrayal, Julien thought, as his heart ached for the man who had just left them.
Whatever trust, whatever headway, Priest had made with Robbie, it appeared it had all just gone up in smoke, as Robbie realized the man he thought he knew was someone else entirely.
Chapter Twenty-Six
CONFESSION
I don’t know what this means for him or us.
And I’m too afraid to ask…
PRIEST STEPPED OFF the elevator at Mitchell & Madison and went straight to his office. Luckily, Cole and Logan were both out right now, and Priest was unlikely to be disturbed. Considering what he had to do, that was a good fucking thing.
He shut the door and headed straight to his filing cabinet, where he unlocked the bottom drawer and grabbed the piece of paper he’d scrawled Henri’s number on.
As he slammed the drawer shut, Priest shut his eyes and immediately saw an image of Robbie’s face as it had been just before he’d left him and Julien back at the restaurant. In startling detail, he recalled rosy cheeks that had turned ashen and blue eyes, usually so full of joy, filled with uncertainty and…betrayal.
Lies. They were the one thing Priest couldn’t abide, and he had been adamant from the beginning that Robbie be honest with them and they would do the same—and the look in Robbie’s eyes today, as the truth about Priest’s parentage came to light, made it clear that Robbie felt Priest had not lived up to his end of the bargain.
As Priest sat there, he told himself for the hundredth time he hadn’t lied about Jimmy—he just hadn’t told Robbie about it yet due to the circumstances surrounding the fucker.
If Jimmy was merely rotting in a cell for the rest of his life the way he was supposed to be, Priest would’ve told Robbie all about his miserable childhood back at the beginning of all of this. But with the news of Jimmy’s possible parole, and the weekend in L.A., the time to talk about this hadn’t exactly presented itself. Not in any suitable way.
Priest cursed and reached for the phone, doing as Henri had instructed and calling him on a private line. He needed to find out how the fuck Jimmy’s hearing had been leaked to the press. He’d certainly thought about it, but in the end decided against it, knowing that would make him no better than the man behind bars, because this would most certainly put a target on Jimmy’s back—not that Priest cared about that. He was more concerned with the fact his whole fucking life from birt
h to age seven was about to be up for public consumption all over again.
Just as that thought entered his mind, the phone connected, and before Henri could get more than his name out, Priest said, “What the fuck is going on down there, Henri?”
“So nice to hear from you too, Priest.”
Priest refused to feel shitty about his greeting as he turned his chair around and stared out the window. “I was just thinking the exact opposite about you.”
Henri sighed, and Priest could imagine him running a hand over his shaved head. “I assume you heard or—”
“I saw it on the afternoon fucking news.”
“Yeah, my offices are currently working on finding out who leaked the information— Wait, you didn’t…”
“Fuck you,” Priest said through clenched teeth.
“Hey, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’d be surprised, since you and I both know how this will likely end now. But I wouldn’t blame you. I’m thinking someone who doesn’t like Jimmy all that well got the scoop. Let’s face it, he’s not lacking for enemies. But you can bet Jimmy’s not resting too comfortably tonight.”
Good, Priest thought, and shook his head. “This is totally fucked. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do,” Henri said. “Are you okay?”
Priest ran a hand around to the back of his neck and squeezed it until it hurt. He didn’t want this man asking him that. “I’m fine.”
“Is Julien there?”
“No. He’s at home. But you told me to call from here. So here I am.”
“Nice to know you can at least follow an order if it’s to keep those you love safe.”
Those he loved… Priest shut his eyes and let Julien’s face come to mind. His worried expression, the concern that had been written all over his handsome face. And then an image of Robbie replaced it, sitting in the library back in L.A., cradling Julien in his arms.
