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He passed by several side streets, his blurry eyes doing a quick sweep looking for some means of escape, and as he finally ran down one and then into another, he rounded a corner and spotted a sporty little number midway down and took off toward it at a fast clip.
As his feet slapped against the ground, he wondered how this was all going to end. In all honesty, Julien deserved the beat-down Lorenzo wanted to give him. Not only because he’d been caught fucking the guy’s boyfriend…fiancé…husband—whatever. But for everything that had led up to this very moment where he was three sheets to the wind on a Monday afternoon after spending a night—hell, the last five months of nights—drinking and fucking his way through the darkest hours, trying to drown out the one thing he couldn’t escape.
When he reached the shiny roadster, Julien looked around for something to pry open the door, to slip down the side of the window… Hell, at this stage, he’d settle for something to smash open the window, and when he found nothing, he decided to just try the door on the off chance that something in his fucking life would go right. But as he reached for the handle, he heard someone clear his or her throat behind him.
Julien froze and shut his eyes, figuring he’d rather not see a bat swinging at his head in the mirrored reflection.
“Excuse me? Can I help you?”
“WAIT A MINUTE,” Robbie interrupted, putting a hand up. His eyes were round as saucers, and his mouth was flapping open and shut like a fish out of water. “You’re telling me that you had someone’s crazy-ass boyfriend chasing you down an alley with a baseball bat? You?”
“Oui,” Julien said, as Robbie sat back on the couch and went to tuck his feet up. But then he remembered where he was and put them back down. “Sorry, habit.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Julien said. “You can get comfortable. We want you comfortable.”
Robbie looked between Julien and Priest, and then the most beautiful smile curved his lips. It was sweet and innocent, almost shy, as he tucked his feet up and said, “Okay, so, crazy boyfriend—”
“Someone’s very angry crazy boyfriend, one should note,” Priest said.
“That’s so scandalous. I love it.” Robbie clapped his hands.
Priest shook his head. “Of course you do.”
“Duh. If I didn’t like scandal, I wouldn’t be sitting in your living room, would I?”
“Fair point.”
Robbie turned back to Julien. “Okay, continue. I bet you wished you had that baseball bat when you got to the car, right? To smash in a window?”
“I’m glad he didn’t,” Priest said.
Robbie waved a dismissive hand at him. “I didn’t ask you.”
Julien laughed at the two of them and then nodded. “I did wish that,” he said as he looked over to Priest, who tilted his head to the side. “But instead, the good Lord took pity on me and sent me something I needed much more than a bat. He sent me a Priest.”
“EXCUSE ME? Can I help you?”
Julien glanced over his shoulder to see a man the same height as him with a shock of auburn hair standing by the car in a suit and tie. He had a briefcase in one hand and a set of keys in the other, and when Julien realized he was staring at the owner of the vehicle, he nodded.
“Oui, merci mon Dieu. I—”
“Were you trying to steal my car?” The man’s voice was clipped, blunt, and so damn proper that Julien automatically reached for either side of his shirt and pulled it across his body, suddenly feeling underdressed and under scrutiny.
“I…” Julien peered around the man’s broad shoulders to make sure Lorenzo hadn’t found which of the side streets he’d woven his way down.
“I asked you a question,” the man said, snapping Julien’s attention back to his. “Were you trying to steal my car?”
Julien looked at the expensive import beside him and nodded. “Oui, but I have a good reason.” At least, he thought it was. “You see, I’m trying to—”
“Save it,” the man said, and hit the key fob, making the headlights flash and the locks disengage. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’m calling the police, so you better stay put.”
He pulled open the door and put his briefcase in the back seat, and Julien knew he needed to make a run for it. The last thing he needed was for the police to pick him up and charge him, only to then have to call his bigwig lawyer father to come and bail his ass out. Although the worst part of that scenario wasn’t that he’d be charged, but the fact that his father likely wouldn’t show. He’d probably leave Julien to rot in a cell, and who could blame him? Julien’s parents had all but wiped him from their lives as of five months ago, and now here he was, trying his hardest to make it permanent.
