The Athlete and the Aristocrat

by Louisa Masters

  The weight of acceptance settled over him. At least if he lived in Paris, he and Lucien would be able to hook up more often. Four visits in six weeks and dirty Skype calls every other night just weren’t enough. “Yeah. I don’t suppose you know of any really good apps for learning French?”

  Paul’s laugh was surprised. “I will look into it,” he promised, and Si grinned.

  “Nah, don’t worry. I’ll sort it. Don’t tell the boss I asked, by the way.” There was no need for Lucien to know he’d already given in. Maybe he could use this to gain other concessions. After all, they needed to hire staff. What if they couldn’t agree on who to hire? Si needed an edge.

  He deliberately ignored the tiny voice that whispered that if he and Lucien hadn’t established such a firm boundary between work and play, he could use it to gain other concessions.

  “We are keeping secrets?” Paul asked, and there was a thread of humor in his voice.

  “We are,” Si confirmed.

  “Bon. Oh—his meeting is just finished. Do you want to wait?”

  “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Paul.”

  There was a click, and then the sound of boring hold music filtered down the line. Si wondered, not for the first time, who had decided that putting people into a coma while they were on hold was a good idea. In an effort not to fall asleep, he began making a list of things he’d need to do if he was going to move to Paris, even part-time.

  It was not an exciting list.

  Finally the music cut off and Lucien spoke, that accent washing over Si as it always did.

  “Simon?”

  “Hi, Lucien. Sorry to interrupt—busy day?” He didn’t know why he bothered to ask. From what he’d seen over the past month and a half, when Lucien was working he didn’t have anything but busy days.

  Had it really only been less than two months since they’d met? It felt like they’d known each other forever.

  “Average,” Lucien said. “And your call is always welcome.” He said it warmly, but in a scrupulously businesslike tone, even though Si liked to imagine there was a little something extra behi—No no no! It’s just sex. Just fucking.

  “You may change your mind about that,” he warned, forcing his mind back on track. “I’ve rung to discuss the office site.”

  Lucien groaned. “Why will you not just concede that Paris would be by far the better choice?” The words were harsh, but Si knew Lucien well enough to recognize the energy behind them. His lover was keen for this battle, psyched for the challenge of convincing Si.

  It was so fucking sexy.

  No, it’s not. For fuck’s sake, you’re getting weird.

  “You’ve yet to convince me that it would be the better choice,” he said calmly, adjusting his dick in his pants. I can’t believe that made me hard.

  They argued back and forth, both pulling out the same key points as before, neither willing to concede. Si was disturbed by how hot he found it. It wasn’t even like he could say it was a tension-filled argument and his hard-on was a side effect of that. Their discussion was casual, filled with lighthearted insults and ridiculous points of attack. It was more banter than anything else.

  Finally, Lucien sighed. “Simon, I have another meeting in ten minutes. We need to locate office premises as soon as possible. What will make you agree to site it in Paris?”

  Aha! Goal!

  “Well, while you have some good points as to why Paris would suit the program better, it’s not as easy as me just agreeing,” Si began, choosing his words carefully. “If the office is in Paris, I’ll need to relocate. I have a home in London that I love, Lucien. I have friends here, and family. And I don’t speak French.”

  “Details,” Lucien said, and Si could almost see him waving a hand dismissively. “The nature of the program would have you working remotely part of the time anyway, promoting it and interviewing candidates, at least initially until we have enough traction to bring on more staff. There’s no reason you couldn’t work from home in London some days—perhaps Friday or Monday, or both? That would give you three or four days in England. It would depend on the week, and what was scheduled. As for not speaking French, you said you wanted to learn anyway, and how better than to be immersed in the language, surrounded by French speakers?” There was an edge of excitement to his voice, and Si smiled indulgently.

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly, pretending to consider it. “If the office is in Paris, it’s likely most of the staff would be French. I’d be working with people I have no common cultural background with.” He cringed. That was pretty weak, really. There was no way Lucien wouldn’t see through it.

  The burst of laughter proved him correct.

  “Very well,” Lucien said, when he’d stopped chortling. “Allow me to make a suggestion. The office will be located in Paris, and you will have final say on staff hiring. Provided they are properly qualified for the roles and their references are acceptable,” he added.

  Si grinned. Victory! Even if it had been conceded.

  “That sounds like a plan,” he approved.

  “Excellent.” Lucien’s warm tones made him feel as though he’d just achieved something far beyond the reach of mere mortals. “I will tell Paul to delete the list of London properties he thinks I know nothing about. When will you come to inspect possible sites? We should conduct interviews at the same time.”

  He didn’t even have to look at his calendar. “I’ll fly out day after tomorrow. Paul would have contacts at a recruitment agency, wouldn’t he? We can contact them today and hopefully interview the day after I arrive.”

  “Bien sur,” Lucien agreed. “I will transfer you back to Paul?”

  “Please. Oh, and Lucien, are you working late tonight?” Translation: how about some Skype sex?

  The indrawn breath told Si that Lucien liked the idea. “No,” he said. “I intend to be home at a decent hour.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter Eight

  SI looked around the small office that would probably be his. At ten by ten feet, it was more than big enough to hold a desk, visitor chairs, and maybe a sofa or a small table and chairs. It also had a window—the view wasn’t special, just of the buildings across the street, but at least there was some natural light.

  The location was great, just a few blocks from the Morel Corporation headquarters, and the price was definitely right.

  He wandered back out to the main office. There was a large reception desk already in place. The leasing agent had said it had been left behind by the previous tenants and was theirs if they wanted it. There was also room for several other desks, as well as a small area for visitors to wait. Next to the small office was a slightly larger one that could be used for meetings, and a kitchenette in an alcove.

  Lucien was talking quietly to the leasing agent, but broke off when Si approached. “Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Si shrugged. “It meets all requirements,” he said. They’d already decided that Lucien would handle the negotiations.

  “Excellent.” He turned back to the agent and said something in French. She smiled, then leaned closer to him and said something softly. Not that Si could have understood her even if he’d been able to overhear, since it had already been established that she didn’t speak English and he didn’t speak Fre— Was she batting her eyelashes? He’d thought that only happened in cartoons.

  He strolled toward the door, torn between the desire to laugh and a few pangs of something he refused to call jealousy. After all, he and Lucien had decided from the outset, all those weeks ago in Monaco, not to pursue a relationship. They were just fuck buddies, right? So if Lucien wanted to flirt with other people, that was his business. Even if it did get Si’s hackles up for some unknown reason.

  I’m just horny, he decided. Sure, Skype sex and jacking off were great, but nothing was really as good as in-person sex with someone else. The car that had met him at the airport had whisked him into the city to pick up Lucien, and since then they had
been working through Paul’s list of properties with barely a moment alone. Si had hoped for some “private time” later in the evening, but maybe Lucien had other ideas? Crap, Si didn’t even know where he was staying. He hadn’t booked a hotel, just assuming he’d stay with Lucien, but that was pretty presumptuous, really.

  “What are you doing?”

  Si jumped and spun to face Lucien, who was looking at him curiously. He’d just been standing by the door, staring into space like a tosser for who knew how long. The flirty leasing agent was also looking at him, keys in hand.

  “Just thinking,” he blurted. “Not important. Are we done?”

  The look Lucien gave him said he knew there was more to it than that, but he nodded. “Yes. Marie will send the paperwork to Paul today, and as soon as it is signed, we can move in.”

  “Brilliant,” Si said, following them into the hallway. Marie locked the door, then cheerfully said something to Lucien, who responded politely. She turned a hopeful smile on Si. It was one he knew well, and he smiled his best public appearance smile back.

  “Marie was wondering if she could have a photo and an autograph,” Lucien told him, and even though his face was solemn, there was no mistaking the laughter in his voice.

  “Of course,” Si said, nodding, then as Marie delightedly rummaged through her handbag, he shot Lucien a glare that should have left him for dead.

  Lucien snorted, then said softly, “I told her you were shy, but that blondes were your favorite.”

  As Marie exclaimed in triumph and raised her lovely blonde head, Si smirked at Lucien and said, “Oh, they are.”

  Maybe assuming he’d stay with Lucien hadn’t been presumptuous, after all.

  WITH his feet propped on Lucien’s coffee table, Si closed his eyes and leaned back in the extremely comfortable chair that was twin to the one in Lucien’s apartment in Monaco. “If I thought I could get it past the security guard, I’d steal this chair,” he muttered.

  Lucien chuckled nearby, and a moment later Si’s hand was lifted and wrapped around a cold bottle. He cracked his eyes open and saw that it was his favorite brand of beer and that Lucien was taking a seat on the sofa, a glass of white wine in hand.

  “How’d you know I like this one?” he asked, letting his eyes close again even as he lifted the bottle to his mouth.

  “I pay attention,” Lucien said. “That’s also how I know that something upset you today.”

  Si shrugged. “I was just being stupid,” he said. “It wasn’t important, and I’m over it now.”

  “Are you sure? If moving to Paris is going to be a real—”

  He opened his eyes fully, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. “No. It’s nothing to do with that, or the program. I was just… um, well… it’s stupid. I feel like a fool for even thinking it.”

  Lucien looked at him expectantly, and Si sighed, his eyes firmly fixed on his beer bottle. “I was jealous. Marie was being all flirty with you, and it’s stupid because we’re just casual, but I was jealous. And then I started wondering if maybe I assumed too much by not booking a hotel, and… it just got dumber from there.”

  Laughter pealed through the room, and Si looked up, surprised. Lucien was laughing so hard, he had to put down his wineglass. Si reluctantly allowed a smile to tug at his own lips. A happy Lucien was impossible to resist.

  “Are you laughing at what a dolt I was?” he asked, and Lucien shook his head and swiped moisture from his eyes.

  “No,” he said finally. “I’m laughing because Marie was flirting with me only because you don’t speak French and she doesn’t speak English. She was trying to convince me to act as intermediary between you.” He picked up his wineglass and sank back into the sofa.

  Si’s jaw dropped. “What? Really? But she barely looked at me the whole time!” He felt even more ridiculous now.

  Lucien shrugged. “I believe she was starstruck at first, but once she’d finished her sales pitch on the office suite, all she spoke about was you. She even asked me what your favorite food was.” He smirked, and Si chuckled.

  “I once said in an interview that I was looking forward to pizza at a friend’s house that evening, and for the next week, I had pizzas delivered to my apartment night and day,” he confided. “I really hope you told her you didn’t know, because I don’t think it would look good for the program if she started turning up at the office with food.”

  Shaking his head, Lucien huffed a laugh. “I do not know what your favorite food is, and that is what I told her. However”—his tone turned gleeful—“I did tell her that you are a fan of music that features whale song.”

  Si choked on the sip of beer he’d just taken. “You what?” he wheezed. Lucien merely smiled wickedly and sipped at his wine. “Cheeky bugger,” Si groused, but it was kind of funny. Or it would be, as long as Marie didn’t show up at the office with a Whales of the South Seas greatest hits compilation or something.

  “As to the other,” Lucien leaned forward suddenly, “yes, we have agreed that our… friendship is casual. However, I would not be so crass and rude as to make an assignation with someone else while in your presence.”

  “I wouldn’t, either,” Si said quietly.

  “Also, until you find an apartment of your own—which Paul can assist with, by the way—you are most welcome to stay with me anytime you are in Paris. If that suits.”

  Si looked around the gorgeous apartment. It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship to hang his hat there while he found something to rent. “Thank you. I appreciate that, it’s very generous of you.”

  Lucien shrugged. “It is my pleasure—er, I did not mean—”

  Si couldn’t help but laugh at the tide of color that rose in Lucien’s face. “I know what you meant. Although….” He wiggled his eyebrows, and Lucien snorted.

  I SHOULD have known something would go wrong. It was all going too well. Si sat in one of the meeting rooms in the Morel Corporation headquarters, struggling to keep a neutral expression on his face as they interviewed another candidate for the bookkeeping role.

  This was their third interview of the morning, and the last for the bookkeeper position. Next they had a two-hour break before the applicants for the administrator role arrived.

  Si didn’t think he’d last that long.

  The morning had been a complete disaster. The candidates were all terrible.

  Applicant one, a girl who barely looked old enough to have finished school, much less have the experience they’d requested: “Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod, I am your biggest fan! I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you, you’re so hot! Can I touch you? Oh please, let me touch you!”

  Or at least, that was what Lucien had later translated for Si. The entire outburst had been in rushed French, despite Lucien and Si having greeted her in English.

  Lucien: Tell us about your experience.

  Applicant One: (another barrage of French).

  Lucien, with set face: (curt-sounding response in French).

  Applicant One: (lunged from her seat to grab hold of Si and smash a wet kiss on his mouth before racing from the room).

  Si had spent ten minutes scrubbing in the washroom before he felt clean, not helped by Lucien’s explanation that apparently the girl was in fact a high school student who had seen the discreet ad placed by the recruitment agency, and because she was such a rabid fan of Si’s had worked out that it was for the charity being rumored in the press. How she had gotten past the recruiter to earn an interview was something Lucien and Paul planned to find out.

  Applicant Two, a distinguished-looking middle-aged man, had seemed a better option. His English was heavily accented, but comprehensible. Until they asked him if he had any experience working with charities.

  Applicant Two, with lip curled in a sneer: “Charity? That is money wasted.”

  The interview ended there.

  And now Applicant Three, a sharp-looking woman in her thirties, was answering Lucien’s question about whether she liked football
with a diatribe on the evils of organized sports. Since she’d practically been a lock for the role before that, Si was incredibly glad Lucien had made the casual inquiry. He couldn’t stop himself from wincing as she declared that all athletes were sex-mad degenerates. Did she know he’d been a professional athlete? Was it better or worse if she did?

  Lucien interrupted and thanked her for coming. As he ushered her out, he shot a look over his shoulder at Si that was both sympathetic and mischievous, and Si had a feeling he’d cop a lot of teasing in the near future about his “degenerate” status.

  Or maybe Lucien planned to play on the “sex mad” aspect? That could be fun.

  A moment later Lucien reentered the room, followed by Paul, who held a cordless handset and was dialing, a grim look on his face. He looked positively terrifying, his barn-broad shoulders set stiffly as he loomed over them—all six foot five of him. Lucien, on the other hand, seemed much more relaxed than he had been during the interviews, even winking at Si as he retook his seat.

  “That was a nightmare,” Si said bluntly, not sure why Lucien was suddenly so happy.

  “Yes,” Lucien said, shrugging. “But now Paul will fix it.” He leaned closer to Si and lowered his voice as Paul pressed a button on the handset and ringing filled the room. “He takes it as a personal affront when things go wrong.”

  A glance at Paul had Si convinced that not only was the affront personal to Paul, but probably also to his entire family and all his ancestors. Si immediately resolved not to do anything to make Paul that pissed at him.

  Someone answered the phone—in French, of course.

  “Nicolas, Paul from Morel. I have Lucien Morel and Simon Wood here with me,” Paul said in English. His tone was icy, and from the pause at the other end of the line, Nicolas—whoever he was—heard it.

  “Paul, Monsieur Morel, Monsieur Wood, how good to speak. Please excuse me my English. The interviews was good?”

  Si inferred that Nicolas must be the recruiter Paul had used to find their applicants.