Lucien nodded. “And you can’t be old enough to have that much money in life savings,” he added.
“Well, I’m also going to hope we’ve already achieved friendship and that you don’t get offended when I say I got money the same way you all did—by inheriting it.”
The three men laughed, Malik more loudly than the others. “That doesn’t offend us at all,” he assured Ben. “You’re a trust fund baby too?” His eyes skimmed over Ben’s outfit in a way that Ben thought could have been insulting if Malik had been someone else, especially considering how much Ben had paid for these clothes.
Although, considering Léo’s car and apartment, Malik’s yacht, and the fact that Ben didn’t even recognize the brand decal on Lucien’s sunglasses, he figured they probably paid a lot more for their clothes.
The very thought made him feel vaguely ill.
“I’m not a trust fund baby,” he answered. “My last client was a wealthy widow. She left me some money in her will. She loved to travel, and we talked a lot about all the places she’d been, so I decided to spend some of it on a trip.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow. “It must have been a good sum. And you must be an excellent nurse. Her family didn’t object?”
Ben shook his head. “She was really quite wealthy, and what she left me was just a tiny piece of her estate. She left her family some cash too, but mostly they got the really good shares and investments and stuff. What they make in interest off those every year is about five times what she left me.”
“I have to admit to being curious,” Malik said, smiling that smile that made Ben want to just agree with anything he said. “May I be incredibly crass and ask how much she left you?”
Ben took another gulp from his martini. “Sure, why not? Friends tell each other this stuff, right? Fifty million.”
Lucien spat out his drink, and Léo sat up abruptly.
“How much?” Malik asked incredulously.
Ben blinked. “Oh come on,” he protested. “I’ve done my research online. Or Dani has. I know how much Léo’s apartment and this yacht and the champagne cost. That kind of money is nothing to you guys.”
One of the magic stewards appeared to give Lucien a hand towel and replace his drink, and Malik took advantage of the opportunity to knock back the rest of his and give the man the empty glass. Another one was supplied, and Ben looked around, wondering where it had come from.
“It’s not nothing, exactly,” Léo said slowly. “But yes, we have… more than that. It’s just… it seems….”
“It’s an incredibly generous bequest,” Ben supplied, rescuing him. Unlike Malik and Lucien, Léo didn’t seem willing to take advantage of the friendship clause and discuss the “crass”—who used that word, anyway?—topic of money. “But like I said, Mrs. K. was really quite wealthy, and I was her constant companion for three years. I monitored her health, helped her wash, dress, eat, I read to her, rubbed lotion on her skin, made sure she had her medications, and about a million other things. You form a pretty close bond after all that, and she and I had just clicked from the moment we met anyway.” He shrugged. “She never mentioned that she’d added me to her will. I was pretty surprised when her solicitor told me I was a beneficiary, and downright shocked when he told me what I’d inherited. I was going to refuse it, at first, because it felt a little weird. But her kids insisted. She went through three nurses before me, because she could be a bit particular about things, and they were worried she’d have to go into a nursing home, which she would have hated. So they said I’d earned it, and then Dani told me to shut up and take it, so I did.”
“And decided to spend a chunk in tribute to her by visiting the places she loved,” Léo said, smiling. Ben nodded and leaned over to grab some cheese from the platter on the small table beside him.
“Yep.”
“What are you doing with the rest of it?” Lucien also helped himself to cheese, then washed it down with his martini.
“Dunno.”
All three men froze. Ben studied the ridiculous tableau. Malik’s drink was halfway to his mouth, and Lucien was leaning toward the cheese again. Léo unfroze first and pulled off his sunglasses.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Where’s the money now?”
Ben gestured vaguely in what he imagined might be the direction of Australia. “In my bank account.”
Malik set his glass down with a sharp clink. “Do you mean you put fifty million Australian dollars—that’s what”—he glanced at Léo—“about thirty-five million euro?”
Léo nodded.
“Right, so you put all that money in a standard bank account and just left it?”
Ben shook his head. “I gave about fifteen million away. Some to family and close friends, some to charity.”
“It’s still a lot of money to just leave,” Lucien said, almost gently. “Have you spoken to a financial advisor?”
Ben laughed. “I wouldn’t even know how to find a financial advisor,” he said, and tipped the remainder of his drink down his throat, feeling pleasantly mellow. He silently counted down the time before a steward appeared with another drink for him.
Four seconds. Impressive.
“You’re in luck, then,” Malik said. “Léo’s one of the best money people in the world. I’m sure he’d be happy to give you some tips.”
Ben blinked, confused, and turned to Léo. “You’re a money person? What’s a money person?”
“I manage investments and advise on matters related to finance,” Léo said, that indulgent grin back on his face.
“Like, officially? But that wasn’t on Wikipedia. They said you just bum around.”
Lucien snorted. “You’ve been on Léo’s Wikipedia page? It makes for interesting reading, doesn’t it? I’m especially proud of some of the photos.”
“You created the page?” Ben asked, gobsmacked. “I haven’t seen it myself. Dani told me about it.”
“I didn’t create it, but I like to check in on it sometimes, make some updates. Malik’s too.”
“I don’t know what’s on Malik’s yet,” Ben confessed. “Dani looked at it, but we didn’t get a chance to talk about it.”
“Just let me know if you have any questions,” Malik said wickedly. “In the meantime, we’ve veered off topic. Léo doesn’t consult for just anyone, Ben. He manages the investment portfolios of select family and friends, and a few charities. It’s not really public knowledge, so whoever’s contributing to the Wikipedia page probably doesn’t know.”
“Oh,” Ben said, then, “Oh. You do charity work. That’s great!” Léo didn’t just bum around. Sure, he didn’t work full-time, but he worked. He had responsibilities beyond hosting parties, or whatever.
“Well, not really,” Léo began, but Lucien hushed him.
“Of course you do. They are charities, and you advise on their finances without charging a fee. That’s charity work.” He turned to look at Ben. “Why is it so great?”
Ben took a celebratory gulp from his glass. His already awesome day had just become awesomer. Awe-som-er. Was that a word?
“Ben?”
He looked up to find them all staring. “Yeah?” he asked happily.
“Why are you saying ‘awesomer’ over and over?” Malik asked.
Ben felt his cheeks getting hot and wondered why. They were all friends, right? And what was a made-up word among friends?
He decided to ask.
“Made-up words can be used when we’re all friends, right?”
Léo’s lips twitched, and Malik laughed outright.
“Absolutely,” Lucien assured him gravely.
Ben grinned. “Great!”
“Yes, it is great,” Malik said. “Do you know what else is great? That Léo does charity work.”
“Yes!” Ben exclaimed, reminded again that Léo wasn’t just a playboy dilettante. People trusted him with their money. Probably huge amounts of money.
“And why is that so great, Ben?” Malik prompted.
“Is that important to you, Ben? Because Léo doesn’t exactly work a sixty-hour week,” Lucien commented.
Ben shook his head. “That’s okay. He doesn’t need to work to support himself, so why should he run himself into an early grave working sixty hours a week? But he has focus and responsibilities. Re-spon-si-bil-i-ties,” he repeated, suddenly loving the sound of the word.
Léo chucked. “If you’re quite done discussing me as though I weren’t here, I think Ben and I are ready for a nap,” he said.
Ben was instantly distracted. “A nap?” he asked, smiling seductively.
Lucien coughed and Malik stood abruptly and turned away.
“What… kind… of nap?”
Léo looked away for a second, then back. “The sleeping kind.”
Ben pouted, and Léo leaned over and dropped a kiss on his mouth. “Later,” he murmured, cheering Ben immensely.
He was cruising the Mediterranean on a private yacht with three new friends, one of whom he had “later” plans with. It didn’t get much better than that.
IT was late afternoon before they returned to the marina, sun-kissed and relaxed. Sailing with Léo and his friends had been an experience.
As the four of them strolled toward the valet stand, Ben realized something. “Hey, we’ve been drinking almost all day, but none of us are drunk,” he announced. His nap, and the great food that had been waiting when he woke up, had fixed that.
“Well, you might be a little tipsy,” Lucien said with a smile.
Ben thought about it for a second, then nodded. “I think you might be right about that,” he agreed, twisting to look at Lucien and tripping. Léo caught him with a laugh and wrapped an arm around his waist. Ben melted against him and let the warmth flow through his body.
“Anyway,” he said, dragging his brain back toward a semblance of rational thought, “except for me, nobody’s had too much to drink. And the other night, Léo didn’t get drunk, even though I did.” He paused. “I’ve spent too much time drinking since I got to Monaco.”
Malik and Lucien laughed and motioned to the valets while Léo dropped a kiss on the top of Ben’s head. “The secret,” Lucien explained, “is to always be drinking but never be drunk.”
Ben nodded sagely. “That makes sense. How does one do that?”
Léo propped him against a wall and leaned down to kiss him properly. He tasted like martinis and canapés and sunshine, and Ben lost himself in the kiss, reaching up to run his hands through Léo’s beautiful, silky dark hair.
Eventually, Léo pulled back, then leaned in again to drop one more kiss on Ben’s lips. “One does that,” he murmured, “by drinking slowly and not mixing drinks.”
“And drinking often,” Malik added from where he and Lucien were standing a few feet away. “You build up a tolerance.”
Ben bit his lip. Léo made a growling sound, and Ben swung a startled gaze in his direction. The hungry look on his gorgeous face was all Ben’s dick needed to sit up and beg.
“Er….” He trailed off, having completely lost his train of thought. Alcohol. Right. “So the trick is to be constantly sipping at a single type of alcohol?”
“Something like that,” Lucien agreed as one of the valets pulled up in a sporty-looking car that Ben didn’t recognize but that was probably ridiculously expensive. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date tonight.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Ben said brightly. That was nice, that Lucien had someone, but it must be tricky since he lived in Paris.
“I’m not,” Lucien announced cheerfully.
Ben was taken aback. “Then who’s your date with?” he asked.
Lucien shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t met him yet.” He waved airily over his shoulder as he got into his car.
Him? Huh. Lucien’s gay. Ben’s muddled brain found that both completely obvious and mildly surprising.
“Come on, Bunny,” Léo said as another valet pulled up in his car. “Time to get home.” He opened the passenger door while Ben latched on to what he’d said.
“Did you just call me Bunny?” He climbed into the car. “I think Lucien called me that today too.” He frowned, looking up at Léo. “Am I a bunny? I always imagined myself to be more of a…. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever considered myself to be any kind of animal.” He leaned back in his seat, ignoring Malik’s laughter as he pondered the situation, and Léo closed the car door. Moments later, the driver door opened and Léo slid into the car. Ben grinned at him as he started the car, and even though he was pretty sure he looked kind of foolish, Léo still reached over and took his hand as they pulled out onto the road.
“Am I a bunny?” Ben asked.
Léo hesitated. “Only in the best possible way,” he finally said. Ben struggled to make sense of that and then gave up. Léo seemed to be saying it affectionately, and Ben was totally okay with pet names.
It didn’t take long to get back to Léo’s apartment building, and once they’d parked in Léo’s reserved spot, they just sat for a moment.
“So, are you enjoying Monaco?” Léo asked, breaking the silence.
Ben smiled. “Yes,” he said honestly. “Much more than I thought I would. I figured I’d spend a couple of days being lazy by the pool, see the aquarium, the casino, the Prince’s Palace, and then be ready to move on. But this has been a real experience. I never would have thought of trying half the stuff I’ve done.” He rolled his head against the seat to look at Léo. “That’s because of you. I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun if I hadn’t met you.”
Léo smiled back at him, and something in Ben melted. It wasn’t just the bronzed complexion, dark eyes, and sharp cheekbones that attracted him. It was that smile, the look in those eyes, as if Ben were amazing, as if he’d said something incredibly clever and Léo was lucky to be there with him.
He felt special.
“Are you going to stay a while longer?”
Ben looked away. “I haven’t decided. Maybe.” His heartbeat sped up. Please let him want me to stay.
“You should stay.” Ben’s gaze flicked back and met Léo’s. “Spend some time with me.”
Ben’s stomach flipped with joyful anticipation.
“Okay.”
Chapter Eight
“I CAN’T believe you haven’t taken him to dinner at Le Louis XV,” Lucien chided Léo. “It’s one of your favorite restaurants.”
They were finishing brunch at the club, exactly two weeks after the first time they’d done so. This time, Léo had actually invited Malik and Lucien to join them—although admittedly at Ben’s suggestion. Lucien was only in Monaco for two days, and Ben felt bad that he was monopolizing Léo’s time and preventing him from hanging out with his friend.
“We haven’t had the opportunity,” Léo was saying. “And Ben has been cooking for me sometimes. It’s nice to have home-cooked meals that I don’t have to prepare. I’d forgotten how much I liked it.”
“You should have a service come and cook for you,” Malik suggested.
Ben tried not to react to the idea of paying someone to cook for you in your own home all the time. He knew Léo could cook, and quite well, since they’d prepared quite a few meals together. It seemed Malik couldn’t—or didn’t.
“I don’t need a service,” Léo said patiently.
“Anyway,” Lucien interjected pointedly. “Since you’ve been unspeakably lazy on this matter, why don’t we all go tonight? Ben will like the decor, I think, and definitely the food.”
Léo shrugged. “I would never refuse Le Louis XV,” he said, sitting back and letting the waiter clear his plate. “Ben, would you like to go?”
Ben smiled his thanks to the waiter and then turned to Léo and said, “To be honest, I have no idea what
you’re talking about.”
Léo smiled, Malik laughed, and Lucien groaned.
“It’s a restaurant,” Léo told him, “at the Hotel de Paris.”
“Which means it’s probably an excellent restaurant, right?” When Ben had been planning his visit to Monaco, he’d looked into staying at the Hotel de Paris, which was where Mrs. K. had always stayed. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to pay those rates for a hotel, no matter how good. The Fairmont wasn’t cheap, but the difference worked out to about a hundred euro a night.
“It is indeed,” Lucien assured him. “It also has three Michelin stars.”
He was still trying to get his head around the idea that three Michelin stars was not what made these men consider a restaurant “excellent,” when Léo said, “I think you’ll enjoy it. Their wine cellar is wonderful.”
Ben flushed. Although he hadn’t been drunk since that day on the yacht, and was in fact mastering the art of drinking without becoming intoxicated (how Dani had laughed when he’d told her about that!), he was still worried that Léo might think him a lush. But the wine he’d been drinking here was so good, and even though he knew—after battling Léo several times for the right to pay when they went out—that it was so good because it cost so much, he hadn’t been able to switch back to something more… economical.
“Okay, we should go,” he agreed. He’d never eaten at a Michelin-starred restaurant before, not even one with only one star, and he figured it would make for another great story to tell when he got home.
Whenever that would be. Right now, he didn’t even have plans to leave Monaco for Italy, much less leave Europe to go back to Australia.
“We’ll go tonight, then,” Malik declared. “I have a date for drinks at five, so shall we say eight?”
“Doesn’t it depend on what time we can get a reservation?” Ben asked, and then felt stupid as realization hit. One couldn’t just decide to eat at a Michelin-starred restaurant that same day. He’d bet the place booked up weeks, if not months, in advance. But his dining companions had gone silent. Léo and Malik were conspicuously focused on the table, and Lucien was looking at him curiously.
The Bunny and the Billionaire Page 9
