Max and the Prince (3 page)

Max glanced up from the letters to see the resignation on
Lucien’s face. Lucien was expecting Max to say no. Vulnerability shadowed his
eyes, and he clasped his hands together so tightly the skin was white. Max’s
heart won out over his head. Lucien wasn’t arrogant or expecting Max to say yes,
he was defenseless and scared. He might not be listening to Max’s advice, but
that wasn’t what Max was here for. Max was merely the bodyguard.

“Let’s talk more.”

A weight lifted from Lucien at the quiet words. Just to have
someone to check for noises in the dark, to talk to him when he couldn’t stop
feeling scared—that was all he needed.

Maxwell—Max—Connery wasn’t what Lucien had expected, nor
what Teddy had wanted based on his almost violent reaction. But Max was
obviously who Bodyguards Inc. thought best to send in to live alongside Lucien,
and he wasn’t going to argue. He wanted to know more about the young-looking
guy who would be his pretend friend for however long it took for him to feel
safe.

“Can I ask you…? I mean, this is personal, but exactly, uhm,
how old are you?” he asked, tripping over his words and sounding like an idiot
in his own head. Immediately he qualified what he was saying. “Mr. Monroe said
you’d done so much, but you don’t look—”

“A day over twenty-one?” Max finished. “I get that a lot.
I’m twenty-eight, but I’ve done other jobs where I’ve had to blend in at a college.”

“You have?” Lucien was half-hopeful and half-disbelieving.
He’d actually uncurled himself from his hunched position and managed to keep
eye contact with Max.

“Twice.”

The door slammed open and Teddy stalked in. Immediately,
Lucien tensed.

“I won’t have it,” Teddy snapped. He loomed over Lucien and
grabbed his arm so hard Lucien let out a small curse. “You’re coming home where
it’s safe, or I follow you at your university.” The words gave no room for a
third option, and for a moment, any hope that Max could help him disappeared.

Until Lucien was staring down at Teddy flat on his back, Max
looming over him with his lower arm pressed to Teddy’s throat. Somehow Max had
managed to fell Teddy with some kind of ninja move. Lucien’s mouth dropped open
in shock.

“Geroffme,” Teddy shouted. Or at least he was attempting to
shout, but he was flailing at the same time. Finally Max let up the hold, and
Teddy rolled to his feet with grace that belied his height.

“Don’t threaten my client again,” Max said. Lucien looked
from Max to Teddy and back again. Teddy was bristling, his hands in fists at
his side; Max, on the other hand, was loose-limbed and ready for the next go.

“I’m your client?” Lucien honed in that piece of
information.

“As of ten minutes ago,” Max said.

Teddy loosened his tight fists and instead crossed his arms
over his chest. He was not going to be happy about being embarrassed. Teddy was
just as aware of what people thought of him and of his place in things as
Lucien was. This could get ugly. Teddy wasn’t an easy win and he’d likely thump
Max.

Instead, he did something unexpected. He held out his hand.
“You took me by surprise,” he said.

Max took the hand and they shook. “I did.”

“You keep him safe.”

“I will.”

Teddy stepped back. “I’ll take you to the university.”

“I’ve got that covered,” Max said.

There was a stare-off, Teddy grim and stern, Max calm and in
control of the situation. Was this an appropriate time for Lucien to hope Max
used that expression a lot? Because he was gorgeous and hot and all kinds of
sexy. And… God,
how
hot
…

You don’t lust after bodyguards. You just don’t.

“You’ll keep your phone with you at all times.”

Lucien realized Teddy was talking to him, and he snapped out
of his thoughts about the bodyguard/prince thing that was never going to
happen. “Sorry?”

Teddy tutted. “Your phone. All times.”

“All times.”

Seemingly reassured, Teddy backed down. Lucien didn’t want
to point out that he wouldn’t be able to carry his phone in the pool, but then
Max would still be with him then. In the pool. With just swim trunks on. All
wet and slippery and—
Stop!

Then Teddy did another unexpected thing: he pulled Lucien
into a hug, which he had never done before. Ever. He’d been part of Lucien’s
life for as long as Lucien could recall, but he’d never hugged him. Teddy
didn’t hug, security didn’t hug princes. It wasn’t
done
. But God, it
felt so good to be tugged close and held so tight like he didn’t have a thing
to worry about. Just as quickly, Teddy let go of him and left the room. That
left the hovering owner of BI and Max standing with him.

Lucien wished he knew what to do next.

Max broke the silence. “Tell me about your house. Do you
share with others?”

“With two others at the moment. Jamie Green came up with me
from year one when I was in the halls. He’s a friend.”

“And he knows about you?”

Lucien glanced at the doorway, but Kyle had disappeared,
leaving just him and Max in the office. “That I’m gay?” he said in a hushed
tone.

“No, that you’re a prince,” Max asked. He sounded very
patient, but there was a hint of laughter in the words.

“Oh, no one knows about the prince thing, although the gay
thing is pretty much out there, I guess. Jamie keeps himself to himself, you
know, studying and stuff since we’re in our last year.”

“And the other one?”

“The other what?”

“The other person in your house. You said there were two.”

“Oh yeah, Emily is a friend of Jamie’s. She’s mostly at her
boyfriend’s place, though. And there is a fourth bedroom that was being used by
a guy who dropped out, Tommy. That could be your room.”

“We’ll need to run background checks on Jamie, Emily and her
boyfriend, Tommy, your lecturers and professors. And friends? I’ll need a
list.”

Lucien swallowed. He didn’t really have friends. “I have the
swim team,” he said brightly. He wasn’t lying. They swam together, there was
some camaraderie, and they’d gone out a few times for pizza after a meet over
the last couple of years. They did themed events that called for dressing up,
but thankfully he’d managed to avoid most of those. He was known as the quiet,
serious, and ever-so-slightly odd one of the team, but that was okay, he wasn’t
out to win hearts and minds with a sparkling personality. “I can give you a
list.”

Max passed him a piece of paper and a pen. “Write me a list
of the ones you know now. We’ll give it to Ross. It’s a good place to start, a
baseline as such.”

Lucien dutifully wrote the list and realized he did actually
have more people in his life than just the swim team. There was Oliver at the
Costa where Lucien got his coffee, and that girl at the sandwich shop that did
awesome chicken subs. He added in his professors, the couple of third-years
that he worked alongside that he could think of, and the two groups of first-years
he ran seminars for.

Max ran his eyes over the list, then gestured for Lucien to
follow until they reached the desk of the guy who had shown them in—Ross, he
thought. Kyle was leaning on the side of the desk, a stapler in his hand and a
thoughtful expression on his face. He was fiddling with something, and then he
raised the stapler aloft with a smile. “Fixed,” he said.

“Wouldn’t need to fix it if it hadn’t been jammed in the recycling
and broken,” Ross muttered. Seeing Lucien, he lost the irritable expression and
instead smiled. He took the list and placed it squarely on the desk. “I’ll get back
to you.”

Lucien hovered uncertainly, then pulled himself together. He
wasn’t a kid, he was the client. He shook hands with Kyle, then Ross, and
decided he was taking control.

“I need to get back to university,” he announced.

“We’ll go now, ready?”

They crossed the office to the main door, and Lucien winced
when the icy cold January air hit him square in the face. He’d not even thought
to bring a jacket and was never happier to get into the car that Max unlocked.
He settled in and watched the receding reflection of the manor in the side mirror
as they drove down the grand drive and out onto the main road.

“I need to stop at my place. I only have my go-bag with me.”

Lucien nodded. He’d expected to need to stop, though he
could understand the concept of a go-bag for emergencies, probably with all
kinds of bodyguard-type stuff in it. Like what, he couldn’t imagine, but it
sounded cool.

“I’m only an hour away,” Max assured him as they joined the
traffic heading towards Oxford.

“It’s fine.”

“We should take the time for you to go over everything
again. I might not look like I’m listening, but I will be.” He indicated and
moved to the right lane to overtake a horse trailer, then slid back into the
left lane, all while he talked.

“Everything?”

“Every little detail from the time you decided to drink and
before that if you think it helps. I want to know all the characters.”

“You sound like it’s a play.”

Max shot him a look, and his serious blue eyes focused on
Lucien for a split second before he turned back to the road. “It
is
like
a play, I guess. The more you know the players, the easier it is to identify
the bad guy.”

“When do I get to hear about
your
play?” Lucien
asked. He was teasing, but also intrigued by the journey Max had taken to end
up as Lucien’s bodyguard.

“I’m here for you. That’s all you need to know.” He didn’t
look at Lucien as he said it. “Now eyes front and start from the drinking.”

Lucien sighed noisily. He didn’t want to go back there to the
point where his entire life had crumbled with grief. He was desperate to avoid
confronting the decisions he had made then. Not coming out to his family in
such a dramatic way—that had actually been a good thing. His mom had just
turned around and suggested that it was all well and good being like that in
private, but that is where it should stay. His dad had agreed stiffly. No, the
decision to bury his grief in whiskey or vodka or whatever else he had to hand
was what he regretted and was more than a little embarrassed to share with this
put-together guy who had managed to take Teddy to the floor.

“Okay, so the drinking. Guess that’s where I need to start.”

“Was it your decision to drink?”

Temper snatched his breath. “What kind of a question is
that?” The way it was worded implied he didn’t know his own mind. Then he realized
what he was thinking and just how stupid he sounded in his own head.

“A reasonable one,” Max said. “Did someone encourage you to
drink? Were you led astray, was there someone who wanted you to commit some
kind of indiscretion? Did you have a boyfriend? A wannabe lover? A friend?”

Temper subsided as quickly as it had risen, and Lucien shook
his head. “I apologize.”

“And you can stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Apologizing.”

“Sorry. I mean… Okay…” Settling himself back in the seat and
attempting to relax, he closed his eyes briefly. He could do this. He’d never had
a boyfriend. Edward was his first and actually his last. One heated experience of
frotting and that was it.
I may as well be a virgin
. “So,” he began
carefully, “there was no boyfriend, or wannabe lover, as you put it. I hadn’t
exactly come out to anyone; hell, I’d barely come out to myself. Seb was ill
for a long time and I was close to him. I even had a tutor so I didn’t have to
go to boarding school. I think my parents liked that there was someone for Seb
as it definitely wasn’t going to be them.” He winced. He shouldn’t speak badly
about his parents. He should be respectful.

“We’ll need the tutor’s name.”

“What for?”

“The list of people close to you.”

“Next you’ll want Nanny Hilda’s name,” Lucien said in
disbelief.

“Of course. You had a tutor and a nanny, so I assume you’re not
close to your family?”

“No. Yes.” He sighed. “Not really. What about your family?”
He glanced sideways to see the faint tightening of Max’s jaw.

“As I said, we’re not talking about me.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorr—jeez…” Lucien felt the heat rise in his face. This was
going to be one hell of a long car journey.

Max listened to the story again from the beginning and tried
not to interrupt with questions. He’d found that long rambling descriptions of
emotions and events worked well to get the communicator to think about what he
was saying.

Not to mention Lucien had the softest accent and Max loved
to listen to him talk. As he drove, Max catalogued the people in Lucien’s life.
The parents who appeared to deal with the death of their youngest son with
stoicism, somehow forgetting that Lucien had been so close to Sebastian. Teddy
who looked to have been a fixture in Lucien’s life since he was a baby, and
Lucien’s older siblings, two brothers and a sister, two bankers and a lawyer,
in that order.

Then there was Edward the government guy who Lucien had spent
time with, Eric the cook who appeared to make the best omelets in the entire
world. Add to that the staff in the main house. Then the tutor the family had
poached from Oxford University who was with Lucien from eleven to sixteen. Bryce
Norman was his name, and according to Lucien, he was more than a tutor. He was
the companion that Lucien needed because his family wasn’t there for him. And
then Seb’s live-in nurse/nanny, an older lady by the name of Hilda Carlos, who read
him stories and had endless compassion. The list went on and on, but it was bereft
of one thing: people that Lucien described as friends or lovers. It didn’t seem
like Lucien gave any single person the label of friend, apart from Jamie his
housemate, but even that seemed a loose connection because Lucien didn’t have
much to say about Jamie. In fact, he was tightlipped on the subject, which
raised red flags immediately. And as for lovers? He only mentioned Edward.

Now Lucien was quiet. They were only ten minutes from Max’s
place, and he had one more question. A really personal question that he needed a
more complete answer to.

“Tell me about your lovers.”

Silence.

Finally Lucien answered. “Uhm. I did.”

Max thought back over what he’d heard on the journey so far.
He couldn’t have missed anything, he never missed anything. “I only recall Edward.”

Max caught Lucien shrugging in his peripheral vision, the
shrug being the only indication he’d heard Max. “Just Edward.”

“Just Edward? Lucien, you’re twenty-five.”

“I kissed Tommy—well, he kissed me.”

“Tommy? You mean the boy who dropped out of Cardiff Uni, the
one you shared a house with?”

“Yeah, we went on a date, saw a movie, and we kissed, but
when we did, we realized we were better off as friends.”

“How soon after this kiss did he leave Cardiff?”

“Christ, are you implying there is a link between the kiss
and him leaving?”

“No.”

“Well, it was a good couple of weeks. He just packed and
went overnight, sent a letter in to the uni.”

“Do you keep in touch?”

“No. I emailed him, but he never answered, so I assume he’s
washed his hands of Cardiff.”

“I’ll add him to the list.”

More silence that was heavy with upcoming angst if Max
didn’t change the direction of this conversation. It was too late when Lucien
finally spoke.

“Look, you have to understand something. I’m not the most
confident of people, and when I lived at home…”

“You’ve been at university over two years.” Max hadn’t done
the university thing, joining the RAF at sixteen, but he wasn’t stupid.
University meant parties and partners and more drink.

“I learned my lesson with Edward. He denied me when he was
confronted, told them it was all me. I was grieving, drinking, betrayed, lied
to… Like that is going to have me interested in relationships or casual sex.”

Max focused in on one particular point in that statement. “Told
who? When you say
them
? Who confronted him?”

“Mother, Father, Teddy.”

“Okay, that’s fine. So, no jealous exes except potentially Edward?”

“He’s the cultural attaché in Madrid. Him and his wife and
his three kids.” Lucien didn’t sound bitter or heartbroken, just resigned. “I
haven’t seen him in years now, but I put him on that list.”

They pulled up to the end of Max’s street and parked the car
in front of the plain, normal garage attached to the plain, normal house. Two
rooms up, two down, and a bathroom. Pretty much exactly what Max needed. If he listened
to Lucien, though, it was like he lived somewhere special.

“This is so lovely,” Lucien said as he followed Max in. He
had to duck for the low beams, and Max realized he had got used to not having
to duck. When Lucien smacked his forehead on a particularly deceptive half-hidden
beam, Max made to apologize, but Lucien was grinning.

“How old is this place?” he asked, cutting Max’s apology off
at the knees.

“Four hundred years or thereabouts.”

Lucien came to a dead stop in front of the open fireplace
and stared. “This is like something off a picture postcard,” he finally said.

“Make yourself at home. Kettle and coffee in the kitchen, we
have central heating, and it should warm up in here in a few minutes. Stay in
the house and I’ll be down as quick as I can.”

Lucien nodded and disappeared into the tiny kitchen off the
hall. Max could swear he was humming.

Max went up to his room and opened his small closet. He had
a staple of clothes all folded neatly, courtesy of the years in the RAF. Jeans,
tees, sweatshirts, and nothing at all grown-up. That was a good thing, seemed
like he’d fit in okay with uni life. Shrugging off his only suit, he folded it
in a carrier, just in case, then piled his entire closet contents into his two
cases and an extra duffle bag.

It occurred to him that he didn’t even know what subject
Lucien was studying. He’d probably have to attend lectures on the subject to
stay close to Lucien. He hoped to hell it wasn’t something like particle
physics.

“What are you studying?” he called down the stairs.

“English Language,” Lucien shouted back.

That’s not hard, right?
After all, Max spoke English,
he could handle learning about commas for a few days or weeks or however long
this lasted. After adding his wash things and his meds to the case along with
his Kindle and charger for his phone, he zipped it up, then managed to get both
cases down the stairs to the front room where Lucien was lying back in a chair
with his eyes closed.

“Who will look after this place?” Lucien asked.

“Mrs. Mathers, she lives next door.”

“Does she know what you do? How do you explain long absences
to her? Will she realize that—?”

“I blame it on business. I pay her a small amount, and she
doesn’t need to know anything else. Ready to go?”

Within half an hour of arriving at Max’s house, they were
back on the road.

“You really do have a lovely home, you know.”

Max considered his house. He didn’t actually think of it as
home yet. He’d only had it for the two years since leaving the RAF, and he’d
stayed in it less than he’d expected. BI was a busy job for him. One day he’d
look older than twenty-two and then maybe the jobs would slow down, but for the
moment, he was taking everything he could get.

“Thank you.”

That answer appeared to mollify Lucien, who subsided into
silence until they were on the M4 heading to Wales. Then he clearly wanted
conversation.

“Have you been to Wales before?” he asked.

“Flown over it a couple of times,” Max answered.

“How interesting. How long were you in the Air Force?”

“Nine years.”

“What did you fly?”

“Tornado GR4, aerial reconnaissance.”

“That is such a wonderful career to have had. I’m jealous, I
think. The freedom up there to fly over countries and see everything from the
sky…” Lucien huffed a laugh. “I must sound like such an idiot.”

Max shook his head and decided to cut the kid some slack. Lucien
mentioned that word freedom and it clearly meant a lot to him. Yes, there was
freedom within the rules, and Max considered how to explain. “You’re right.
When you get up into the clouds, above the clouds, with glimpses of the country
below, it’s awe-inspiring.”

The car reached the bridge over the Severn, the suspension
rising above them, and Max recalled one particular flight where he’d got too
close for comfort to a bridge like this. He decided not to share that with
Lucien because the prince apparently wanted to focus on the above-the-clouds
part of it all.

“How much is the toll on this road?” Lucien asked as he
scrabbled in his pocket for change.

“Five pounds or so. I have it covered.”

Lucien subsided into his seat. “Okay. Make sure you add it
to expenses.”

“I can cover a toll.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.” Lucien was so earnest it was
cute. “Keeping me safe is a job, not some holiday in Wales.”

“Jesus, okay, I’ll make sure I tell the office.”

“Good, good.”

They passed the tolls and finally in the tunnel that would
bring them to the outskirts of Newport. They were maybe ten or so miles from
Cardiff. “Tell me where I need to go.”

Lucien gave good instructions that had them pulling down a
side street in among many similar streets filled with rows of terraced houses in
tidy, regimented lines, most with rental signs on the walls.

“It’s all student housing,” Lucien advised. “So there’s
always parking of sorts because not a lot of students have cars.”

Max didn’t really care where he parked his Ford; it was ten
years old and way past looking like it was cared for. He parallel
-
parked outside 55 Springs Road, and they pulled out his
bags then went inside the house and between them managed to shut the door.

Max dropped his bags in the hall and Lucien piled the others
on top. Lucien was talking to him but he wasn’t listening to the prince, his
thoughts on other things. The street itself was empty of people, with not many
cars. There were black sacks at the curb waiting for rubbish pickup, and a
large roll of carpet blocked the path three houses down. The area had the air
of being unkempt, but was tidy enough that there were no places for potential
bad guys to hide. No narrow alleys, just house after house joined to each
other.

The front door of Lucien’s place was secure. It double locked,
there was a chain inside and the door itself was heavy and solid.

“Who has a key?” Max asked.

“Me, Jamie, and Emily, I guess. Tommy would have had one,
but when he dropped out, I assume he sent the key back to the people we rent
from. They’re a family who own about ten of these houses and they’d have keys,
of course. There is a general maintenance guy who comes in when we need him. He
has a key.”

“Stay here,” Max ordered.

To his credit, all Lucien did was nod and shrink back
against the hall wall with apprehension on his face. Too close to fear, it was not
an emotion Max liked to see in his clients, even when his switching into
bodyguard mode was probably at the root of it. The house was quiet, no evidence
of Lucien’s two housemates, but Max wanted to do a walkthrough as it stood. If
he came across a housemate, then he had his excuse ready.
I’m on the same
degree course as Lucien, I’m Lucien’s boyfriend, I need a place to stay, and
sorry to interrupt
. He was lucky, he met no one and didn’t need to use any
of the excuses.

There were four bedrooms upstairs, all with attached half
baths, nothing spectacular, but neat and tidy. Room four was empty and he
assumed that would be his room. Room one had posters of actors, room three was
clearly Lucien’s, although how Max knew that he didn’t think about. He just
knew. Room two was a mix of pinks in all kinds of shades, and even though he
wasn’t one to stereotype, he assumed that was Emily’s room.

All four had locking windows, and his and Lucien’s rooms
backed onto the long thin garden behind. There was no extension providing a way
to climb up to the second floor. The upstairs, as far as he was concerned, was
secure.

He went downstairs and looked around the front room. A TV
sat in the corner, sofas, the usual stuff, with locking windows. The kitchen
was a bit worrying; it had patio doors with no locks other than the standard
ones, which anyone with an ounce of knowledge could break. Max added it to his
mental list of things to get done. There was a breakfast area with a large
table and another bathroom, this time a full bathroom with a tub.

He went back into the hall. “All done.”

“And?”

“It’s mostly secure. The only issue is the patio doors, but
the garden is blocked in with other houses, so I think we’ll be okay.” He
hefted his two largest bags, and without prompting, Lucien picked up the other
bag and followed him upstairs. The room that Max would be staying in was big
enough that it was probably a similar size to his bedroom at home, minus the low-hanging
beams. The bathroom was clean, but he needed bedding and probably other shit
students required, like books and a Costa Coffee card.

“I have a swim meet soon, so I’d like to get a training session
in tonight,” Lucien said. He sounded nervous, but his chin was up and his
stance screamed
try and stop me
.

“Okay. I’ll need to borrow some swim shorts.” He turned just
in time to see a smirk on Lucien’s face. “What’s funny?”

“I only have Speedos,” he said.

Max groaned inwardly at images of the tiny scraps of fabric
that were nothing more than budgie-smugglers. Still, he was game for most
things. “And you think I wouldn’t want to use those because…?”

Lucien wrinkled his nose. “Swimming is possibly the most
homoerotic team sport there is, well, that and diving. Think you can handle it?”
He was smiling, like this was a joke to him. The idea of his big—or maybe small—bad
bodyguard in Speedos with other guys was clearly funny.

“I can handle guys in tight Speedos,” Max reassured him.
There was only one person he’d be looking at and that was Lucien. “There’s
something you should probably know at this point. I don’t generally do this
boyfriend thing with other charges.”