‘He’s fine,’ Jules answers blandly, taking a drink.
‘Fine?Don’t be bashful, angel.He’s gorgeous, just look at him.Alistair, you’re not limiting your son’s preference, are you?All men should fuck a man before they hit twenty.It builds character.’
‘The age is new and full of wonders,’ Alistair drawls softly.Lachlan couldn’t assign an emotion to him if his life depended on it.
‘Bodyguard,’ Ariadne calls out, clicking her fingers at him.‘What’s your name, sweet thing?’
‘Lachlan Tanner, ma’am,’ he answers politely, checking in on the radio two minutes early to seem busy.‘Control, this is Kestrel.Give me Echo Bay checks with eyes on Shimmer.’
‘Eight bells, Kestrel.Eyes on.’
‘Heard.’
‘Ooh,Kestrel.That’s a slutty codename,’ she chuckles, eyes wide, pupils minuscule.‘Julian, do you think he’s handsome?’
Jules takes another sip.‘No.’
‘Oh, you’re such a little liar!Look at him, all muscle and man.You’d have to be blind not to want him.’
‘Ari, darling,’ Alistair sighs, ‘are you planning to poach my staff?’
‘If more of them looked like him, I might,’ she simpers, tone watery but her gaze is sharp beneath all the drink and drugs.Ariadne Alderwyck is close to Alistair’s age, mid-sixties at least, but with all the guile of superficial beauty.Her shoulder-length hair is chocolate brown, not a grey in sight.‘Bodyguard, come here.’
Lachlan looks to Alistair, who gives a single nod.He goes where he’s bid, stands before Ariadne when she rises to meet him.
‘Oh yes, you’re ahandsomething,’ she declares, stroking his cheek, then his hair, then wherever she likes, gaze roaming appreciatively.‘Alistair,tellme I can borrow him.’
‘For what purpose, my love?’
‘For play, of course.What else?’She pushes manicured fingers into Lachlan’s hair, petting him like he’s a mannequin and she has a vision.
‘I don’t think his pay scale coversplay.’
Ariadne smiles wide at Lachlan, lips red, teeth unnaturally white.
‘What would you like, hmm?Fifty?One hundred?’She leans in close, painted lips on his ear, whispers, ‘How about if you make me squirt, I’ll—’
‘I’m tired,’ Jules declares abruptly, tone flat.He gets up, heads towards Lachlan and the door.‘I need to sleep.’
Ariadne moves away, glancing between them.
‘Oh, angel, if you feel left out, you can come too.’
Jules looks at Alistair.‘Father, may I be excused, please?’
Nothing touches the old man’s façade.He’s mild as milk.
‘Of course.Goodnight, Julian.’
Lachlan mechanically informs Rook of their movements as he opens the door for Jules.On the way out he hears Ariadne tittering, ‘Your boy has a crush, Alistair,’ to a round of laughter that only fades when there are three doors between them.
When they enter the East Wing, Jules breaks the silence.
‘I’m sorry about that.’
Lachlan frowns.‘About what?’
‘That.Them.Her.’
