by Clare London
Gran poked her face around the kitchen door. “I’m off to bed. You boys going too?”
Tate tensed underneath Alex’s palms.
Alex paused in his massage. If there was a single flicker of doubt or distaste in Tate’s expression because he was afraid of his family discovering he was spending most of his nights with Alex on the sofa, then Alex would move out straightaway and find another hotel, loneliness be damned—
But Tate smiled easily, with an adorable shyness. “Soon, Gran. We just… um… need to talk about Alex going back to work on Monday.”
Alex made a feeble excuse and sneaked out into the hall to fetch some chocolate he’d bought for Tate—and hidden from the other family chocoholics, Amy and Gran—to find Gran still at the foot of the stairs. Freddie had already scampered up ahead of her, to his basket in her room.
“Good night, Gran,” he said.
“I like you, Alex,” she replied bluntly.
“Um. Thanks?”
“But don’t play with my Tatty’s heart, you hear?”
He was touched by Gran’s fierce protectiveness. “I have no intention of playing with Tate’s heart, as you put it. I care for him a lot. I had hoped you’d realize that.”
“Oh, I do, boy. But you can still hurt him. I’m pretty sure you have a lot of resources in your life, but Tatty has few. And if you use them up, what will he have left?”
Alex was momentarily speechless. By the time his throat had cleared, she was halfway up the stairs. “Gran? It’s not like that.” But she didn’t turn back, just shuffled along the landing and into her own bedroom.
That was unexpected.
“It’s not like that” he’d said to Gran. But if not, what was it like? A temporary stayover to help him out after the accident was turning into something more—at least it was for Alex.
Gran’s recognition of the Bonfils family had shaken him up. He had to clear the air before Tate found out from elsewhere who Alex really was and misunderstood the whole undercover mission thing. No, Alex would explain it all, but he wanted the time and the right setting to do it.
Things were heading for a crisis.
And Gran was wrong in one crucial point, as Alex also now admitted to himself. The days when he, Alexandre Bonfils, could have exactly what he pleased, whenever he wanted, and with no noticeable effect on his pampered life—they were gone. Tate Somerton was embedded in his heart by now and could hurt him too.
So badly.
Chapter Eighteen
THE time had come, Tate reckoned, to have a showdown with Alex Goodson.
Tate didn’t often feel tense—he had his life planned as best he could, most of the time—but this weekend felt like a tipping point. The warmth of their nights on the sofa flushed right through Tate. He was looking forward to repeating it tonight. And the night after.
More things than his sex life had changed over the last week, though. Having Alex around had been unsettling. There’d been a few times when Tate had instinctively acknowledged Alex in the house as if he’d always been a member of the family. Very unsettling, and yet… great, too. Tate didn’t know whether to be annoyed or delighted at the emotional skirmish inside him. He’d never shared his daily life before with anyone but family or Louise.
The odd, disturbing feelings hadn’t dispersed by the time Alex returned to the kitchen with a large bar of Tate’s favorite chocolate. “Let’s talk a while,” Tate said. “Just us, in private. In the living room.”
“Excellent idea.” Alex waggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous way he’d recently picked up from Gran. What was amazing—whether for good or bad—was that it made Tate chuckle, every time.
“No,” he said with a mock frown. “I mean, that’s good, too. But I want to talk first.”
He couldn’t resist the excitement, though, at the thought of snuggling up with Alex on the sofa. It wasn’t just the sex—which was bloody fabulous, no doubt about it—but the intimacy. To have another man to cuddle and hold was something new and scary in his life, but also the brightest part of his day. He loved it.
It was a word he usually avoided outside the kids. Love. It made him shiver with both delight and fear. It muddled his thoughts, shook his self-control. Was that why he was fighting it so hard? He would argue he didn’t allow himself the opportunity, because of the kids, and Gran, and his carefully constructed routine to keep them all safe and happy. He owed that to his parents, didn’t he? But what about his own need?
This was gradually becoming something out of control. This was the way his heart bounced when he saw Alex at the end of his working day, the way Alex made him laugh, the way Alex lay on the floor with Amy when they were working together on her history project, the way Alex’s nose crinkled every time Gran lobbed a used tea bag into the sink, the hysterically funny, stunned look on Alex’s face when Hattie and Hugo trapped him on the sofa to watch Made in Chelsea with them….
God. He’d never thought this would happen. At least, not when he had no time to manage it properly. After all, he and Alex had both insisted it was a no-strings arrangement from the start. It was obvious he and Alex came from very different worlds—even if he didn’t know much about Alex’s background at all.
Which brought him back to his intended confrontation.
They settled on the sofa, the room still warm although the heating would turn off soon. Alex broke off a piece of chocolate for them both, and chuckled. “Chocolate and a hot man on a comfy couch. I couldn’t ask for more. I don’t mind telling you, I’ll miss the company when I start looking for my own place.”
“You don’t have to,” Tate said, needing to clear his throat a couple of times. “There’s no rush. At least until you’re back on track financially.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Gran would kill me if we didn’t continue to look after you.”
Alex’s eyes looked very bright. “Are you sure?” He broke off some more chocolate and nudged a piece at Tate’s mouth until he opened up and bit on it. His lips were only a fraction away from Tate’s. Tate felt Alex’s breath on his cheek; his mouth ached for the taste of him. His fingers unfurled, wanting to reach for him.
“Tate.” Alex just breathed the word onto Tate’s skin.
“Talking about your financial status…,” Tate said, haltingly.
“Which I wasn’t, but you are.” Alex sighed. He pulled away a few, significant inches and leaned back on the sofa cushion. “There’s a but, isn’t there?”
Tate still ached; he hated to spoil this moment and all it promised. But he had to do this. Only that morning, Percy had moved Alex’s forged reference from the bottom of Tate’s in-tray and laid it silently but deliberately on top. “You’ve been lying to me, I reckon. And I think I’ve guessed what about.”
Alex went very still.
Tate looked away, suddenly afraid of seeing something awful on Alex’s face. “You know far more about the business than any newbie intern would. You’re used to money—I see it in your clothes, hear it in your voice, in the way you move and act.”
Alex shifted, very slightly.
Here goes. “I think you’re an auditor they’ve sent from Head Office to investigate the problems we’ve been having. I never received any briefing about it, but in the light of what we suspect, maybe Head Office didn’t want to warn anyone in advance. That’s the only explanation I can find for the timing of your arrival and the….” He laughed softly. “The overall weirdness of you.”
“Me?” Alex sounded wary but also a bit offended.
“Admit it! You don’t know how ordinary life is lived, you’ve been living in a hotel, you can’t cook—”
“Hey! What about my smoky bacon beans on toast, for a start?”
“Well, okay, but you couldn’t before you came to stay here. There’s all that, yet you’re fit and bright and have obviously had a superb education. I’ve heard you talking to Gran and the kids about a miraculously wide range of subjects.” He sighed and finally met Alex’s gaze. “Am I right?”
Alex was quiet for a long moment. He nodded, then shook his head. Then grimaced. “No. Well. Yes. But not exactly.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Tate didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed in Alex’s admission. What was going on?
“I am with the company. Sort of. And I am looking into the sabotage. I decided to come in undercover.”
Tate couldn’t help himself, he smirked. “Like that Undercover Boss TV program?”
Alex bristled. “Possibly. Slightly.”
“Why you didn’t think to share all this with me?”
“Tate, please. I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking of how to tell you, when would be the right time. Well, at first, no one was meant to know because I thought it’d give me a chance to see what was really going on. If everyone thought I was just another worker—”
Tate tried to resist rolling his eyes, but… really?
Alex scowled. “Well, that was my theory, right? Obviously, I wasn’t the world’s best. But… there’s more.”
“More to your role?”
“More to me.” Alex snaked his hand into Tate’s lap and grasped his hand. “I’m not just with the company. I mean—I am the company, sort of. I’m Alex Bonfils.”
“You’re…?” Tate heard the words, but his mind didn’t compute. He started to laugh.
“It’s not a joke,” Alex said, rather snappily.
“You mean…. Mr. Charles’s other son? The one who never comes to any business meetings? Who only appears in the gossip magazines going the rounds in Packaging?”
“Have you read them?” Alex looked stricken.
“No way. I save the company newsletter for Gran and leave the tabloids for kebab shop reading. Which I don’t read, anyway. I get all my work news from management and union meetings.” He stared at Alex, aghast. “Is this really the truth? You can’t be him. Last I heard, he was up to something with a circus performer—”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Alex snapped. “I told everyone that was just a joke. I’m just Alex, really, not anything special.”
Tate doubted Alex had ever said such a thing before in his life. Realization was seeping in, slowly and painfully. “Jesus, how stupid am I? I helped you out when I thought you had nowhere to go, you needed nursing—”
“That was true, for God’s sake,” Alex said hotly. “I didn’t fake the shock, the fact that every movement hurt. And you’ve never been stupid.”
“Tell me right now,” Tate said in a very low voice. “Everything. Or you leave this house right away, whatever the hour.”
When Tate hardened his expression, Alex stood and started nervously pacing. “I wanted to be part of the business, Tate, I really did. Papa and I could never agree on a role for me.” But after he took another look at Tate’s face… “No, that’s not strictly true. I never put my heart into it before now. Papa grew tired of me partying the family profits away and fired me.”
Tate was momentarily shocked. “He fired you? His own son?”
“He’s never been particularly sentimental,” Alex said wryly.
“I can’t believe I never recognized you.” Tate glanced at Alex’s hair. “Mr. Henri is blond.”
“So am I. I dyed my hair. Not very well.” He gave a rueful smile, but Tate didn’t return it. “Is it really that different from me being from Head Office? I mean, I am from London, and I am looking into the warehouse problems. So the only extra thing is—”
“That you’re the son of the boss, that you’re an heir to the company I work for, that you have a personal fortune of what must be bloody millions, when I scratch a life out of a nonnegotiable salary each month? Oh no, stupid of me, that’s such a tiny extra thing, we can just ignore it!” Tate snapped back.
Alex’s own anger ignited. “Is that what’s really annoying you? The money? Why does that make any difference?”
“You can’t really be that naïve. Can you? It makes all the bloody difference!”
“Because I was born with it and you weren’t? That’s all it is, an accident of birth.”
“You would say that. You’ve always had it.” This was the first time Tate had argued with anyone for years. The words came easily, the anger more slowly. And the distress even more deeply.
“Give me a break!” Alex fired back. He looked genuinely distraught. “All my bloody life people have judged me by my name, by those bloody millions you talk of. I thought we were more equal.”
Tate felt as if he’d been punched. “Equal? You’ve stayed here—you’ve seen how we live. It must be as different from your life as a caravan is to Buckingham Palace.” Another thought struck him, and his gut twisted in horror. “Oh God, you’ve shopped with me, with my housekeeping money as your budget. You’ve darned Hugo’s socks. You’ve watered down the orange juice to make it last another day. You’ve sorted through the bargain bins at the supermarket—”
“Damned fine bargains too; that stir fry you made was delicious.”
“Stop it. Stop it! This is so humiliating!”
“Tate!” Alex cried, such a pure expression of bitter misery and shame that Tate froze, startled. “Tate, please. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I have never thought less of you, or your family, or your lifestyle. I have loved every minute I’ve spent with you, and I’ve learned so much. If anything, I’m the one who’s humiliated. When I remember the stupid things I’ve said and done, just because I arrogantly never took the time to find out how other people lived their lives… I’m surprised you’ve stuck with me, even before my pathetic confession. This is a family life I never thought to experience.” Alex’s voice was now ragged. “You’ve shared yourself with me.”
They stared at each other for a long, painful moment.
Tate finally broke the silence. “It’s the lying, Alex. I thought you were one person, only to find you’re not. What’s more, I knew something wasn’t right. Percy and I knew you’d forged your references. I should have followed it up before, but I… I think I was in denial.” He grimaced. “And it obviously wasn’t my business to know why.”
Alex sank back on the sofa beside him. “It wasn’t anything personal against you, or Percy, or anyone I’ve met. It was all part of my desire to hide from my family, to be something apart from them. And my bizarre plan—as you said—to be some kind of undercover boss.”
Another silence. Tate felt he’d gone a couple of rounds in a boxing match, but the bruises were all inside. “So what do I call you?”
“Alex. Just Alex.” Alex ran his hand through his hair. “Are you really angry with me? It won’t change anything, will it? I mean, with us.”
“Us?” Something worse was nagging at Tate, churning his stomach. He threw himself back against the cushion with a groan. “Of course. All those questions you asked. Guess I was a good source.”
“What?”
“Well, seduce the manager and you can find out all kind of things.”
Alex jumped as if he’d been poked in the ribs. “It wasn’t like that! You don’t believe it was, do you? I never planned on meeting you—well, not that you’d be, you know. You. That I’d find you so attractive.”
Oh, but flattery would be in Alex’s weapons cache, wouldn’t it? Tate was in turmoil. The stomach-churning raised bile in the back of his throat. Alex had lied about so much already.
“Tate, it wasn’t! Tate, look at me, you owe me that.” Alex gripped him fiercely and pulled Tate to face him. “I liked you from the very start, on my own account, nothing to do with who or what you were in the company. Damn, I never intended to fall—!” He bit off the sentence.
Tate stared. “What?”
“Forget it. But believe me, we’re on the same side.”
Tate shook his head slowly, trying to bed down the whirl of thoughts. It was like a movie script. Alex the son of the Bonfils owner. Nothing like the Alex Goodson Tate had grown so close to. Or… was he?
“We can still work together on the sabotage, can’t we? Tate, I swear to you that’s the whole truth. Do
n’t pull away now, not when we’re close to finding out what’s really going on!”
“Are we?”
Alex’s eyes gleamed with what looked suspiciously like the light of battle. “Let’s take a look around the warehouse tonight. You have twenty-four-hour access, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Neither you nor Percy saw anyone moving pallets when they shouldn’t have been during the day. Let’s take a look at nighttime, when the place is clear.”
“Look for what?”
“Clues!” Alex all but crowed. Then another thought struck him, and his eyes widened. “Maybe that was when the shelf unit was loosened—I mean, overnight.”
Tate felt the blood drain from his face. “You think that was deliberate?”
“Perhaps. We’ll consider it later.” Alex seemed to brush away that topic. “I know you’ll say you can’t just come and go when you like. I understand as well as you do that the kids have to be looked after, that they’re priority. But Gran’s here. They’ll be safe for a few hours.”
Tate just stared at him. Why wasn’t he more devastated, betrayed? All he could see was the excitement in Alex’s expression, all he could feel was the thrill of being with him. What a bloody fool I am!
“It’s time we went looking for proper answers,” Alex said grimly. “Are you in?”
Tate just nodded, he wasn’t sure what else he could say. He picked up the bar of chocolate and snapped off a huge chunk of what was left.
After this lunatic evening, he needed comfort of the simplest kind.
Chapter Nineteen
THEY let themselves back into the warehouse at around eleven o’clock. The security guard didn’t even need to see them, as Tate’s pass let him in via the senior staff entrance. He followed Alex, who strode ahead into the main warehouse.
