“Oui,” Ricard agreed, twirling pasta around his fork. “The frustrating part is that I love my brother. Despite everything, despite the messes he creates that others must clean up. I want to help him, to protect him, as he always protected me when we were boys.”
Ricard sighed deeply. “But now Remy seems determined to sabotage himself at every turn. It's like watching someone you love steering deliberately toward disaster while dismissing every warning. And yet,” Ricard added with a bitter laugh, “my family acts as though my sexuality is the scandal. As though my being gay is more shameful than Remy’s string of affairs.”
“They want you to stay closeted?” I asked, surprised. “What is this, 1985?”
“The monarchy is a conservative institution,” he explained, setting down his fork. “Tradition-bound. Change comes slowly, if at all. My father once took me aside at sixteen, after catching me looking too long at a stable hand. He said, 'Personal desires must never outweigh dynastic responsibilities.' That was the entirety of our discussion about my sexuality.”
“That sounds lonely,” I said without thinking.
His eyes met mine, something vulnerable flickering in their depths. “It can be.”
We fell silent then, the admission hanging between us like a tangible thing. I understood loneliness. Since Casey's accident, it had been my constant companion.
“I'm sorry,” I said finally, meaning it. “About your brother. And your family. That's a lot to deal with.”
“Thank you, Theo,” he replied softly. “It's... refreshing to talk about it with someone who isn't calculating the political implications of every word.”
We finished our meal in companionable silence. When we’d finished, I gathered the plates without being asked.
“You don’t need to do that,” Ricard protested as I stacked dishes.
“I don’t mind,” I assured him, carrying them back inside to the kitchen. “Honestly, this is the least weird thing I’ve done all day.”
“Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you tonight?” I asked when I’d finished, turning to face him. “I mean, you’re paying for my time, so...”
He regarded me thoughtfully, and I prepared myself for the shift back to the dominant duke, bracing for some sexual command that would reset the power balance between us. “Swim with me,” he said finally, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.
It wasn't an order. It was an invitation, one I could accept or decline. In that simple request, he'd handed me a kind of power I hadn't expected to have with someone like him. For the first time since arriving at The Ranch, I didn't feel like merchandise. I felt like... me.
He nodded toward the illuminated infinity pool visible through the glass doors. “It’s heated.”
“Alright,” I agreed with a slow smile. “But fair warning. I swim about as well as I cook.”
At the edge of the pool, I hesitated, hands on the sash of my borrowed robe. The night air was surprisingly cool against my skin, andabove us, the night sky sprawled in a dizzying canvas of stars. More than I'd ever seen back in California, where city lights always dulled the view.
The infinity pool stretched before me, its surface reflecting the stars like a mirror to another universe. The edges seemed to disappear into the darkness beyond, creating the illusion that the water extended right into the night sky. I untied the sash slowly, letting the robe fall open. Ricard's breath caught across the pool, and I felt a weird surge of power as I walked down the steps into the warm water.
Not bad for a guy who nearly flunked out of high school gym.
A splash from the other end of the pool drew my attention. Ricard had shed his pajama bottoms and entered the water, his powerful body cutting through the surface with practiced ease as he swam toward me. He surfaced an arm's length away. “Beautiful night,” he commented, his voice low and intimate.
“Beautiful,” I agreed, though I wasn’t looking at the sky anymore.
He moved closer, closing the distance between us until we were nearly touching. I felt the heat of him even through the pool's warmth, an irresistible pull that had me drifting nearer without conscious decision.
“Theo,” he murmured, my name a caress on his lips. His hand found my waist beneath the water, fingers splaying against my skin as he pulled me toward him.
We collided, skin against skin, the water making the contact slick and tantalizing. My breath caught as his other hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “Ricard.”
This wasn’t acting. This wasn’t the performance of desire I’d prepared to give. This was real.
I wanted this man.
He lowered his mouth to mine, the kiss gentle at first, a question rather than a demand. I answered by parting my lips, inviting him deeper, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
His hands were everywhere—sliding down my back, gripping my hips, pulling me closer until my legs wrapped around his waist. He moved us through the water with powerful kicks, not breaking the kiss until my back met the smooth tile of the pool wall.
God, the strength in his body, the hard muscles of his shoulders under my hands, the tight grip of his fingers on my hips, the solid weight of him pressing against me. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice rough with desire but his eyes searching mine for real consent.
