Roman picked up a lighter from the desk. “The nature of his relationship with Whitford’s son?”
“It seems to be a recent thing,” Anna said after a moment. “There have been speculations in the British media, but I can’t confirm anything yet—”
“Don’t bother,” Roman said. “It’s not important.”
He hung up and put the phone on the desk, very carefully.
Then, he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and flipped the lid of the lighter. Leaning back in his chair, he took a deep drag, and then another.
So the boy had finally found his perfect man. Good for him.
Good.
Chapter 21
Luke sat by the pool, watching the brightly illuminated house. He could hear the laughter and music even from here. It was James’s twenty-third birthday, and since James was practically living with his boyfriend these days, his birthday was being celebrated at the Hardaways’ this year.
Wrapping his arms around his knees, Luke smiled wanly. He was glad for his friend, glad that everything was finally going well in his life. James’s happiness had been hard fought and won. It was nice to see that love this strong really existed and happily-ever- afters weren’t a thing of fairy tales.
Biting his lip, Luke lifted his eyes to the moon.
He should probably go back inside. But God, he was sick of being on the receiving end of pitying and concerned looks, as if he were terminally ill. He was sick of telling everyone that he was fine. No one believed him, anyway, no matter what he said.
It wasn’t as though Luke didn’t understand where they all were coming from. As far as everyone was concerned, he’d been through hell in the last few months: first his kidnapping, then his father’s murder barely a month after his escape. It was a lot. It truly was. But he was coping. He was all right. Why couldn’t his friends understand that their pity and excessive concern just weighed him down, reminding him of things he’d rather forget?
Like the fact that it was probably his fault that his father was dead.
Not thinking about it, not thinking about it, not thinking about it.
A movement on the terrace caught his attention. Luke smiled a little, noticing the two tall figures standing there in each other’s arms. Ryan and James were kissing under the full moon, hands in each other’s hair, mouths greedy and tender at the same time. They kissed like they owned each other.
It must be nice to love and feel loved.
Realizing that he was staring at them hungrily, Luke dragged his eyes away, to the smooth dark surface of the pool. Another burst of laughter came from inside the house. Luke swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Not for the first time since his return to England, he felt like an outsider among his friends. He didn’t feel like he belonged here.
But then again, he wasn’t sure where he belonged anymore. If he were honest with himself, it might be one of the reasons why he’d latched onto Dominic so fast. Dominic hadn’t known him before. He hadn’t known that Luke was normally much more cheerful and easy-going than he was now. If Luke went quiet and didn’t feel like talking, Dominic thought nothing of it. Dominic had supported him through the hectic, almost surreal weeks that followed his father’s death, a silent, comforting presence by his side, no questions asked, no judgment passed. Dominic was kind of amazing. Luke wished he were here tonight. Maybe then people would stop giving him those looks. Not to mention that Luke…might be missing Dominic? Maybe. They were not officially together yet—Dominic wasn’t rushing him, considerate of his father’s death—but Luke definitely missed the meaningless flirting, and the feeling of security Dominic’s presence brought.
Luke wondered if this was how people began falling in love. He hoped it was. Dominic was a man he could trust not to break his heart. He was nice, confident, and refreshingly straightforward and honest. Before leaving on a work trip to Japan, he had looked Luke in the eye and told him he expected a positive answer from Luke when he returned. It was a bit arrogant but charmingly honest of him. Dominic didn’t play mind games. Luke adored that about him.
Behind him, a branch cracked.
Luke stiffened, goosebumps running up his spine as the most peculiar awareness filled him.
He held his breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud.
It was silly. There was no one behind him. He was back in England. He was back home.
He couldn’t be there.
A big, calloused hand wrapped around his neck.
A shudder rolled through Luke’s body. It wasn’t possible. He was imagining things. This couldn’t be happening.
Swallowing, he turned his head slowly.
Ice-blue eyes met his, and Luke couldn’t breathe, drowning in their cold depths, like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s snare.