Romancing the Undercover Millionaire
Page 21
The camera angle slid quickly sideways, back toward the door Tate and Alex had just stepped through.
“There’s Papa,” Alex murmured.
“I had no idea what he’d say,” Tate said. “Whether we’d be in disgrace for creeping out early—”
“Which we weren’t, as I told you, he’s confessed in the past he’d like to do the same—”
“—and then Amy just marched up to him and asked to interview him for her school project on money. I think most of her class are writing and drawing different currencies of the world. Amy wants to do a report on the fallout of the banking crisis across retail industry.” Tate winced at the memory, but Alex laughed.
They watched Amy in her best pink princess frock, but with a sturdy messenger bag over her shoulder, waylay Mr. Charles. They couldn’t hear exactly what she said but saw her pull out a Frozen notebook and pen, and start listing her questions. Listening carefully, Mr. Charles was blinking hard.
“She’s so bright,” Tate sighed. “I’m so impossibly proud of her. But my God, I was mortified she ambushed him like that.”
“She’d be a great journalist if she chose.” Alex put one arm around Tate to hug him in sympathy and pointed with his free hand at the screen. “Look. This is where Papa put on his sternest business face, told her he’d get his people to talk to her people, and made an exclusive appointment for her to visit our Head Office.”
Amy had turned away, her little cheeks very flushed and a huge grin on her face. Alex had never loved his father more than in that moment. Though Papa might have to protect his company against a hostile takeover from the likes of Amy Somerton one day.
“And here’s Papa wishing us the best.”
Hugo had pointed the camera up to get a good angle on the tall Mr. Charles Bonfils as he bade the family goodbye for the evening, with a gracious handshake and, “Good night, Alexandre, Tate. Thank you for sharing this evening with us, and for all you’ve done to help bring us this award.”
Alex watched his own startled expression as he went to shake Papa’s hand but was drawn into a full body hug. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Papa show so much emotion. Well, well, well. Maybe the family hadn’t been as disturbed as Alex had feared when he suggested all the changes. Note to self—start discussions on subsidized staff healthcare at the next board meeting. The camera angle swung again, this time to Tate’s face. Hugo’s giggle was very loud, as he was nearest the microphone.
“Tate, why’s your mouth open like a goldfish’s?”
Alex chuckled, half under his breath. It never failed, whenever they met Papa. Tate was going to take a very long time to get used to Mr. Charles calling him by his first name.
THE night was drawing in, and they’d all but finished the bottle. There’d be more shared drinks in the future, but this first taste of Angel’s Breath felt special to Alex.
“It’s gorgeous.” Tate was still admiring it. “It’s light but it has a full flavor. More citrusy than I’d expected.”
“We should make the most of it while we’re here. I doubt we’ll be drinking it on a daily basis back home.”
He didn’t miss the way Tate tensed. Was it from the mention of home? “Do you miss them? The family?” Alex asked tentatively. “I mean, we can leave early if you want. I know there’s always so much to do in the house. I’ll admit I had promised to help Hugo with editing his film, and supervise Hattie sewing a beret to go with her suit. And I’m meant to sit with Gran soon and take her through the family trees for the first Game of Thrones series.” He’d booked out one of the exclusive summer house apartments on the estate for the whole week, but if Tate wanted to get back quickly—
“Are you kidding me?” Tate almost snorted the wine out of his nose. “This is the only holiday on my own I’ve had since a disastrous long weekend in Greece with school friends. I burned scarlet all over, got food poisoning, and bitten by a ray. Never touched ouzo again in my life, either.” He caught Alex’s hand, tightly. “Seriously, though. I do miss them, after all I live with them every day of the year. But this is… magic, being here with you, in this glorious place.”
“With lots of time for sex, as noisy and as boisterous as we like.” Alex didn’t mind sharing Tate’s room at the house, though he’d decided to keep on his London apartment for the time being. They could use it as an overnight escape if they needed. And his office in Bristol had a luxurious couch in it, ostensibly for visitors, but also useful for the frequent making out sessions with Tate, when they both had overlapping break times.
Tate’s grip sent goose bumps all up his arm; Tate’s smile made his heart soar; Tate’s wicked sense of abandon had him coming harder than he ever had in his life, whenever they let loose in bed….
No, that was never going to get old.
He touched his glass to Tate’s and together they sipped the sparkling wine. “You know we could afford to move to a bigger place?” he said softly to Tate.
“You could. I can’t.”
“Tate….”
Tate smiled and touched his fingertips to Alex’s lips. “No, it’s my turn to tease now. I know what you mean, and I’m on board with that. Maybe one day. But at the moment, I don’t want to disturb—”
“The family. Yes, I get it.”
Tate’s answering smile turned Alex’s stomach upside down and curled his toes. “You do, don’t you?”
Alex wanted to hold Tate closer than ever, until they were one body. Doubtless Amy and her fantasy robot would be working on such a future innovation in years to come. “They’re a treasure to me. They’re mine, if that’s not too forward of me to say.”
“You? Forward?” Tate gave a soft snort. “And when would that not be?”
Alex traced Tate’s lips with his forefinger, wiping the dampness still lingering, loving the way Tate leaned into him. “Are you happy, Tate?”
Tate looked puzzled, then his eyes softened. “You’re not the big, bold, arrogant sod you once were, Alex Bonfils. But that’s our secret, right? I’m happy, yes. Very happy, exactly where I am right now.”
That was what mattered to Alex, more than anything else. “This co-guardian thing with the children?”
Tate went still. “It’s too much for you? I can understand that—”
“No. Never.” Alex swallowed hard. He felt as nervous as if he were back in front of his school housemaster again after another prank gone wrong, or Papa, after another scandalous tabloid exposé. But thankfully that wasn’t his life any longer, was it? “I would like to make it formal.”
“Formal…?”
“You and me, Tate. As an official couple, looking after the family.”
Tate’s expression would have been comical if it wasn’t so stricken. “Are you proposing to me?”
Oh, God. “Okay. Sorry. I mean, one day.” Alex felt so mortified, his skin heated all over. He was a bloody idiot; he’d been horribly clumsy with his words, too hasty with his intentions. “I mean, I know it’s come out of the blue for you, but I think it’d be good for the kids, and make it much easier when we need to take turns at the official parenting jobs—”
“Just for the kids, eh?” Tate’s voice was strangely flat.
Fuck. He’d done it again. What was it about this relationship with Tate, that he could put his foot in his mouth so spectacularly, so often? “I didn’t mean that. I meant, because I want to be with you for the long term. Because this, this life with you, is what I want. All that I want.” Tate was still staring at him and his lips were pursed tight. “I love you, you know that. I mean it, too, it’s not just a whim, or a fashion. And I love the kids, and the things we all do together, and being part of your family, and I love you—did I say that already?—well, it always bears saying again, and I love—”
“Hush.” Tate put his fingers on Alex’s lips. “You don’t give me any chance to answer. Must be because you’ve always been so certain of getting your own way.”
“That’s not—!”
“I know,
you idjit. I love you too. And it’s a yes.”
“It is?”
Tate was laughing now. “Yes. Definitely yes. What you said, about loving the things we do together, Mr. Bonfils….”
Alex’s hand lingered on Tate’s thigh, tracing the pattern of the trouser fabric, and Tate’s muscles beneath. “What exactly are you insinuating, Mr. Somerton?” But he didn’t give Tate a chance to reply to this question. He slid his hand around the back of Tate’s neck and brought him in for a long, sexy kiss with a lot of tongue. One of the candles on the table flickered gently, then finally snuffed out. Slowly, Alex drew back, and they sat there for a few moments more, silent and with their foreheads touching, their breath evening out in tandem.
“I don’t think either of us needs much more practice in this,” Tate whispered.
“You reckon?”
“But far be it from me to stop you.”
Alex chuckled. With the dusk air cooling around them, the fresh smell of vines and hedgerows in the wind, and the taste of Angel’s Breath still on Tate’s lips, Alex grinned as he lifted Tate’s chin and initiated another kiss.
This was the taste of a real fortune.
CLARE LONDON took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fueled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter-three stage and plenty of other projects in mind… she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fueled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:
Website: www.clarelondon.com
Email: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk
Blog: www.clarelondon.com/blog
Facebook: www.facebook.com/clarelondon
Twitter: @clare_london
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/clarelondon
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/clarelondon
By Clare London
DREAMSPUN DESIRES
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Romancing the Undercover Millionaire
© 2018 Clare London.
Editorial Development by Sue Brown-Moore.
Cover Art
© 2018 Alexandria Corza.
http://www.seeingstatic.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To requ
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Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-664-1
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64108-095-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018935327
Digital published December 2018
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America