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Harry went over to the maple buffet on the side of the office, picked up the silver coffeepot that had belonged to Leo’s mother, and poured a cup. Setting the pot down gently, he came across the room with a thin silver coffee mug that had been in the Worthington family for five generations. “What’s wrong? You look…”
He didn’t finish that sentence, probably because there was no suitable adjective to describe his appearance without possibly offending him. Something he shouldn’t be so damned worried about. Over the years, Leo had grown some pretty thick skin. “I went out last night.”
Harry raised a brown brow. “Yes. To Lady Donagon’s ball.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t end the night at the ball.” Leo rubbed his forehead and avoided the other man’s stare. “I went to the Ballroom.”
The other man, a stickler for tradition, crossed his arms. “What did your father tell you the last time you decided to frolic among the commoners without proper protection?”
It didn’t matter, because he was a grown man, and if he wanted to go dancing, he would. But nevertheless he waved a hand and said, “I brought my team along. They blended in as security for the club.” Leo lifted a shoulder. “They might not approve of my outings, but they aren’t going to tell me no.”
“Something you take full advantage of.”
Leo tapped his fingers on his desk. “Benefit of the job.”
“No one recognized you?”
“No.” Clearly not Alicia. “I wore a disguise.”
“Which one was it this time?”
“I put in that powder that gives me dark hair, and brown contacts.” Leopold touched his dark blond hair. “It was tough to get out in time for these photos.”
“And it worked?”
“Everyone was too busy dancing and, well, you know what people do there, to care who I was. It’s why I like that place. The anonymity.” He frowned. “Though, to be fair, I spent most of my evening with someone who wouldn’t have recognized me anyway.”
That brow cocked upward again. “Oh?”
Leopold picked up his coffee and blew on it, tightening his grip on the delicate cup. It had taken him less than a second in her company to recognize her…but she hadn’t known him. They met a long time ago. A lifetime, even. They’d been young. He’d been sixteen. She’d been fifteen. Children, really.
His father had wanted him to experience the Western world firsthand, so he’d dragged Leo along to New York. It had been a bit of a culture shock, going into a big, modern city like that. Meeting Alicia, a confident young ballet dancer in the city, had been a moment in his life where angels had sung, and a light had shone down from the heavens on her. When they’d kissed under the lights of Times Square, with thousands of people surrounding them…he’d realized that he’d gone and fallen in love with her.
Then last night, she just showed up in his life again…
And didn’t recognize him.
Harry cleared his throat. “You were with someone last night?”
“Yeah,” Leo said, readjusting himself in his seat. “An American.”
Harry stiffened, his nostrils flaring. The other man paced back and forth, swiping a hand through the air. “Another American? Clearly, you have a type. A type you need to break free of. You need to find a nice Randovian girl, or a princess, who can—”
“Careful,” Leo warned, gritting his teeth. “My father might get away with trying to plan my future marriage, but you won’t.”
The other man flushed and lowered his head. “Yes, I’m sorry. I forgot my place as your employee.”
“Don’t be dramatic. Just try to resist the urge to arrange my life choices for me.” Leo sighed and leaned back, staring out the window at the sunny, clear blue summer skies. “I get enough of that already.”
Harry bowed. “Sir.”
He set his coffee mug down untouched. “And you’re right. I do have a type. Blonde. American. Named Alicia.”
Harry’s jaw dropped, but his eyes were flatly blank. “Wait. What?”
“It was her. I found her at the club again. Or she found me.”
She’d been a woman on a mission—and if it hadn’t been him, it would have been another man in that hallway with her. Jealousy settled into his gut. Hot. Heavy. Unwelcome. It might have been ten years since they’d last seen each other, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t like the idea of another man making her cry out in pleasure.
