The Athlete and the Aristocrat

by Louisa Masters

  Tim’s silence spoke volumes.

  “Right. Well… I guess that’s it.”

  “No!” Tim’s shout was so loud that Si pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, Si. That’s not it. People are nervous because they don’t know what’s going on. Yes, there were a lot of meeting cancellations, but there have only been a few applications withdrawn, and only three kids pulled out of the training camp. Only three, and those kids are paying to attend. There’s a lot of support for you and the program online, Si. Once Mr. Morel gives his statement, and you and Lucien do the interview, things will turn around. In the meantime, you still have a lot of kids relying on you and this program. Don’t give up.”

  Si pressed the heel of his hand against his eye. Tim was right. Things looked bad, but he hadn’t done anything wrong, and after working for so long toward this goal, he’d be a moron to give up now. “Right,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Let me know if anything urgent comes up, but otherwise we’ll plan to have a full staff meeting first thing tomorrow morning. Tell Anna and Michel?”

  “I’ll tell them,” Tim promised. “Si, I know you’re worried. And you’ve copped the worst of this. But I really think this is going to pass.”

  “Thank you,” Si said. He wasn’t convinced, but what was the point in saying so? One of them would be proved right, and he sincerely hoped it wasn’t him.

  THEY finally landed in Paris. Paul had a car waiting for them that whisked them to Lucien’s apartment, where they set up camp in front of the TV—although Malik and Léo firmly refused to let him watch any of the news or gossip channels. Instead, they found a suitably awful movie on Netflix, and spent an hour picking it apart. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied, he would have had fun. He’d tried telling his babysitters that he would be fine on his own if they needed to get back to Monaco, but Ben had just given him a don’t-bullshit-me look, and said they’d been meaning to check in on Léo’s Paris apartment, anyway.

  It gave Si a warm feeling.

  By the time he heard Lucien’s key in the door, he’d managed to block out most of the drama of the last few days. Lucien’s imminent arrival brought it all flooding back—but that was a small price to pay for having him there. Si scrambled off the couch, and as a surprised-looking Lucien appeared in the doorway, he threw himself into his arms and buried his face in the crook of Lucien’s neck.

  “Simon?” The concern in Lucien’s voice was pretty much his undoing. He wrapped his arms around Lucien’s waist and squeezed. Lucien squeezed back, and something settled inside Si.

  They could ride this out. It would be tough, but it could be done.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped back. “Surprise?” He forced himself to smile and met Lucien’s gaze.

  Lucien raised a perfect blond eyebrow. “It is a surprise. No wonder Paul insisted I come right home. And you brought people—beggars you found in Budapest?” he teased, even as he circled an arm around Si’s waist and pulled him close.

  “Ha ha,” Malik said. “You’re so funny—Luc.”

  Si bit the inside of his cheek as Lucien’s grip tightened suddenly, and hurried to intervene. “Léo was kind enough to lend me a plane to get home when my meetings were canceled,” he explained. “And they were at loose ends today, so they decided to come along.”

  Lucien leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Your meetings were canceled?” he asked, and Si swallowed. It still caused a burn in his stomach.

  “You haven’t spoken to Anna today, have you?” he deflected.

  “No.” Lucien tugged him over to their favorite armchair, sat, and pulled Si down on his lap. They were both big enough that it wasn’t entirely comfortable, but Si was willing to sacrifice comfort to be this close to his lover. “What happened?”

  “You know what happened.” With a sigh, Si rested his head beside Lucien’s on the high back of the chair. “That damn article freaked people out. Every appointment I had for this week has been canceled—same with Tim. And about half of next week’s have, too. I figure the rest are just waiting to see what happens next before they decide.”

  “When is your father’s press conference, Lucien?” Léo asked from the couch. Si turned his head to look.

  “In about half an hour,” Lucien replied, and Si snapped his head back so fast his neck cracked.

  “What? It’s today?”

  “Yes. It would actually have been earlier, but Guy thought this might be better—sound bites for the evening news. They banned me from being there, though, because they didn’t want any distractions.”

  “We can watch it here, then,” Ben said, reaching for his phone.

  “Don’t wake Dani,” Léo told him, and Ben pouted.

  “I have to,” he declared. “She was on Twitter for hours today—well, last night, her time—keeping track of everything for us. She deserves to see the press conference live.”

  “She deserves to get a good night’s sleep before she has to go to work,” Léo countered. Si was caught between amusement, and being freaked out that a woman he didn’t know had apparently been keeping track of the disaster his life had become. Ben had mentioned Dani several times, but she was still a stranger.

  Ben leaped to his feet and planted his hand on his hips. “Whose BFF is she?” he demanded. “Mine! I think I know what she’d want, and I’m telling you, if she finds out I could have woken her for this and didn’t, there will be hell to pay.”

  Lucien made a choked sound and turned his head to hide his face against Si’s neck. Léo shrugged, and Ben, a victorious expression on his face, tapped the screen of his phone and lifted it to his ear.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed almost immediately. “But I thought you’d want to know that Lucien’s dad is giving the press conference in about twenty-five minutes.” He shot Léo a smug look. “Yeah, I figured. Léo didn’t want me to wake you—whoa! I did, though, so it’s all good.”

  Malik was outright laughing, but Si and Lucien managed to restrain themselves to a few smothered chuckles.

  “Sure, call me back,” Ben said. “Talk soon.” He ended the call and looked at his boyfriend. “She’s going to make coffee and stuff and then we’ll watch it together.”

  Léo just smiled. “I am sorry I questioned you,” he said, and Ben grinned. He turned to look at Si and Lucien.

  “Dani has put together a petition—well, I’m not sure if it’s actually a petition, since it’s not petitioning anyone. A survey? I don’t know.”

  “What kind of petition—or survey?” Lucien asked patiently.

  “Let me show you.” Ben came over and perched on the arm of the chair, making an already crowded situation even worse. He tapped at his phone, then turned the screen to face them.

  Si swallowed hard.

  It was an online petition site, with a petition—or survey, or whatever—open. The title was “Show Your Support for Simon Wood, Lucien Morel, and On the Ball Soccer Charity.”

  It had 351,974 signatures. As he watched, the number jumped to 351,979, and then again to 351,986.

  “When… when did she set this up?” Was that his voice? It was so shaky.

  “Right after the article came out this morning, so, what… about ten hours ago? She actually called before Lucien did, and she was so pissed. Dani’s kind of a crusader sometimes, and it really bugs her that you’re doing something worthwhile and these buzzards are trying to ruin it. She left work early and was on social media all afternoon and evening.”

  Si bit his lip hard. Beneath him, Lucien was breathing unsteadily.

  “That’s… very kind of her.” What the hell could he say? He never would have expected a stranger to go to such lengths on his behalf. He’d have to talk to Lucien later about sending her something to show the depth of their appreciation. Like what? Diamonds?

  “I think you should read some of the messages people left,” Ben told them. “I’m going to send you a link, but here… have a look while I go get some water.” He thrust the phone into Lucie
n’s hand, and then wandered off toward the kitchen. Si cleared his throat and leaned closer to Lucien, his eyes glued to the small screen. Lucien lifted a trembling hand and tapped the comments section.

  Simon and Lucien should be commended for the work they’re doing, not harassed!

  Simon + Lucien 4eva

  On the Ball will help kids fulfill dreams. So sad that some people are trying to ruin it.

  You guys are awesome, keep up the good work :-)

  Dipshits will always be dipshits, but we all know good people when we see them, and Lucien Morel and Simon Wood are good people.

  Play sports. Love each other. Ignore everything else.

  Don’t let the h8ters get you down.

  You guys are so cute together! Everyone deserves a love like that.

  The truth will out, Simon and Lucien. Be strong.

  I’m sorry this is happening to you. *hugs*

  It went on, thousands of comments, congratulating them on their relationship, lauding their efforts with On the Ball, and unfailingly offering support. Si choked on a sob, and only then realized he was crying. He swiped at his eyes and looked at Lucien, who was biting his lip so hard it was bleeding.

  “Luc,” he said, and grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table. “Here.” He stroked Lucien’s cheek until his jaw relaxed, and then dabbed at the cut.

  “Did you bite your lip?” Malik asked, shock reverberating through his voice. Si paused, glanced over his shoulder, and was shocked himself by the expressions on Malik’s and Léo’s faces. It was just a bitten lip, but from the look of them, Lucien may as well have spit on the carpet.

  “What?” he asked. Lucien took the tissue from him, and Si stood, scrubbing at his face again. His skin felt itchy with the drying tears. “It’s not a bad bite. It won’t need stitches or anything.”

  “What won’t need stitches?” Ben asked, coming back in holding a bottle of the fancy water Lucien’s housekeeper kept the fridge stocked with.

  “Lucien bit his lip,” Si told him, “and those two are acting like the Pope groped a ninety-year-old nun.”

  Ben snorted. “For them, that might be less shocking. The school they were at gave out detentions for things like lip biting or running hands through hair. And I don’t know what Lucien’s nanny was like, but Léo’s used to punish him for it, too.”

  Si blinked, and looked at Lucien. “Really?”

  The lip had stopped bleeding, and Lucien nodded solemnly. “Nervous tics and habits are a detraction. One should appear poised at all times.”

  What the hell? Si didn’t know what to say to that. He’d noticed how calm and unruffled Lucien always was, of course, but he’d just put that down to personality. Was it really forced repression?

  “So there are times when you want to, I don’t know, bite your lip or rub your forehead or something, and you have to force yourself not to feel?”

  In a single smooth motion, Lucien was out of the chair and standing before him. He dropped a kiss on Si’s mouth. “I never force myself not to feel. I force myself not to fidget. When I was a child, it was very difficult, but over time I have found it beneficial. Now when I have the urge to bite my lip or rub my forehead, I ask myself why I feel this way, and instead attempt to deal with whatever is causing me to feel unbalanced. It rarely fails—only when I am feeling too much.” He tapped his lip, smiling ruefully.

  That kind of made sense, although Si still felt there was something wrong with it.

  “Are we going to watch the press conference?” Ben asked, turning on the television. Si took advantage of Lucien’s momentary distraction to steal his chair. Lucien protested as Ben called Dani in the background, and they were still bickering about it minutes later when Malik warned, “It’s starting.”

  Lucien planted himself on the arm of the chair, and they all turned their attention to the screen. Édouard Morel was sitting at a table in a hotel function room, Guy on one side and a women Lucien identified as the head of the corporation’s legal team on the other. The room was filled with members of the press.

  Édouard spoke—in French.

  “What’s he saying?” Si asked urgently.

  “Shit,” Ben said. “I didn’t think of that. Dani, what channel are you watching?”

  “Sky News,” a clear feminine voice answered, startling Si, who hadn’t realized Ben had the phone on loudspeaker. Léo grabbed the remote control from Ben and flipped quickly through the satellite channels until he found the right one.

  “… deeply concerned about allegations made in the press that smear the reputation of my company, of my family, and of myself. The Morel Corporation has been a backbone of the French and European economies for generations. We have constantly and consistently supported the growth of industry, the development of new technology, and made considerable charitable contributions for the betterment of society. It is disturbing and hurtful to realize that despite all this, certain members of the press feel no compunction about making harmful and completely false accusations about us as we endeavor to assist young people in achieving their dreams.” Édouard paused for a beat, his face solemn. “The idea that I, acting in my position as head of the Morel Corporation, used company funds to buy sex for my son; that my son would indeed accept any such action without demanding my immediate resignation and full restitution of said funds to the company; that Simon Wood, an upstanding and admirable man, would prostitute himself; and that the Morel Corporation, my son and I, and Mr. Wood would ever conspire to prostitute children, is not only completely false and absurd, it is also defamatory, and we will be filing legal suit against the newspaper”—his mouth twisted slightly in a sneer—“and their parent company.”

  Several reporters began to shout questions, but Édouard held up a hand.

  “When Simon Wood approached me with his plan to form a charity to provide financial aid to children to play football, I was hesitant. Many who know me know that I have never before given funds to sports charities. My belief was always that charity was for necessities: food, shelter, health, and education. This is something my son, Lucien, has argued about with me often over the years. Lucien believes that by feeding the soul we are able to improve the state of the body. Simon’s passion and enthusiasm for his program reminded me of Lucien’s arguments, and I wondered if perhaps I was too set in my ways, if I was overlooking an important element of the human experience. I have a great deal of respect for my son as a person and as a businessman, and although then I did not know him personally, Simon has shown himself over the years to be dedicated, hardworking, and a role model for young people. If two men worthy of such respect both espoused the same idea, perhaps I needed to open myself to the possibility. It was for this reason that I agreed to provide funding for On the Ball.

  “However, my reason for volunteering Lucien as a business consultant was threefold. I honestly believed he could provide necessary assistance for the program without costing any of the funds designated for charitable use. In addition to this, I knew he would enjoy this task, enjoy being able to work on a project he had long been trying to convince me to take on. But perhaps most importantly in my eyes, I believed that Lucien and Simon would be well-suited to each other—”

  Lucien leaped to his feet, Si gasped, and the press roared.

  “What is he doing?” Dani squealed through the phone. Malik just shook his head, while Léo snatched up his own phone, then just stared at it helplessly.

  Only Ben was calm. “Shh,” he said. “Wait and see what he says next.”

  As Édouard waited silently, the members of the press slowly quietened.

  “As I was saying, I believed the qualities I saw in Simon Wood that day—passion, intelligence, determination, and drive—added to what I knew of him in his professional guise, made him an excellent match for my son. Like many parents, I want my son to be happy. I want him to find love. I have, over the years, introduced him to many people I felt may make good prospective partners for him. I would not have spent million
s of dollars to act as matchmaker, but since I had already made the decision to allocate that money to the charity, I saw no problem with ensuring Lucien and Simon would have an opportunity to meet and get to know each other—without knowing that I was being an interfering old goat.” He stopped, and after a moment of stunned silence, the shouted questions began.

  Chaos reigned, and Si took advantage of the moment to suck in a much-needed deep breath. As an assistant called for the press to settle down and selected the first reporter to ask a question, Si grabbed Lucien’s hand and tugged him back down to sit on the arm of the chair.

  “Did you know?” he murmured, although from the shell-shocked expression on his lover’s face, he didn’t need to ask. Lucien shook his head.

  “Mr. Morel, if the charity hadn’t been worthy of having funds allocated, what would you have done?”

  “Not allocated them,” Édouard said promptly. “And then spoken to my wife and had her find another way for Lucien to meet Simon.”

  Malik chuckled. “You two didn’t have a chance,” he heckled.

  “Monsieur Morel, you maintain that On the Ball is a completely legitimate charity, and that none of the beneficiaries would be required to earn funding in any way?”

  “That is correct. We invite anyone who believes otherwise to present their evidence. In fact, in an attempt to show our complete transparency, we have decided to have the program investigated and assessed.” He named an independent consulting firm that specialized in reviewing companies under legal question. Their reputation was above reproach—as were their prices. Si winced.

  “Who’s paying for that?” he muttered. Lucien hushed him.

  “Mr. Morel, you mentioned having introduced your son to many prospective partners over the years. Did you mean both men and women?”

  The room fell silent, and many reporters turned incredulous gazes on the speaker while others kept their eyes glued to Édouard, faces alight with the hope of a juicy sound bite.