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Aleksey had once despised this man for nothing more than being what he didn’t want, but he’d always realised that Gustav’s infatuation with him had been real,heartfelt—as much as Aleksey could comprehend such an alien concept: hearts or feelings. Gustav had desperately wanted him—and total commitment to them as a couple, toromance—and when he had not been given this, he’d clearly sought it from another. Now the little man could clearly see that Aleksey had done the same—not that he and Ben were a couple, of course, nothingheartfelt, orromantic, only that he’d found someone new.
Notsomeone, orfoundeither, just fucking.
He’d actually confused himself now and retreated to his wine for a while to muse on these contradictions.
But what would it be like to walk into a room one day and see Ben Rider with someone new? Someone who looked like, well, Benjamin Rider did.
Aleksey almost felt sorry for the American substitute, but he didn’t do sorry. He didn’t do it for himself, so he saw no particular reason why he should have to do it for anyone else.
But it was nice to be wanted and thought about, even if it was only by an annoying fuckwit.
No one else seemed to do either.
Although Benwashere.
Maybe he’d only come to storm off again. It was always possible.
They were all saved from what might have developed into an extremely amusing but unfortunate brawl on the floor by the bell. Literally. The butler, as always, tinkled a small brass one and announced po-faced that dinner was served. The expectant rush for the laden tables prevented anything more being said, or at least heard, and Gustav was hustled away by his husband towards the wide double doors, whispering in his ear.
Aleksey had a feeling they wouldn’t be sweet nothings.
For one moment, therefore, he and Ben were left unobserved, almost alone, as any two people could be in a crowded, hot room.
Eye to eye, they regarded each other.
They had not spoken a civil word for months, had not met for weeks, and now, for Aleksey, time slowed. He had the debilitating thought that once again he and Ben were merely a study in an artist’s mind exploring light. He, blond, each strand of his hair delineated. Ben, dark, and yet with inner illumination no candle could rival.
He shook himself inwardly and rallied. He’d had too much wine and had for a moment let himself fall into an endless ocean of green.
He had almost become a man entirely defeated by desire.
But Aleksey didn’t do defeat—he couldn’t afford to. His whole life had been a savage fight for one commodity or another, be it love or food, or even life itself—they were all much the same when you were battered and bleeding and struggling to stand once more.
He solved the alcohol problem by helping himself to another glass and drinking it quickly.
For one moment, he had wanted to drop the pretence and rip the masks aside that were preventing Ben from seeing who he really was.
He did not want to be the man who had to stand in this room and have these conversations, play these games.
He did not want to be the man who pretended not to eagerly anticipate Ben’s arrival anywhere.
He wanted Ben Rider to see another man.
But which one? Not Aleksey Primakov, surely.
He knew this introspection was redundant anyway. The masks had to remain. He stiffened his spine, physically and metaphorically, and said a little bitterly, “So, you are back.”
Ben nodded, a brief, terse acknowledgement of the patently bloody obvious.
“I do hope you are well rested this time. From the flight.” He wanted to addand have eaten, but that was a little too provocative, and he wanted Ben to puzzle over whether these were genuine enquiries or whether they had a very pointed message. He didn’t even get a nod this time to his polite conversational gambit, so suspected the message was being absorbed. The beautiful eyes were narrowed. Thought at some primitive level was apparently going on.
“How did you like Sierra Leone?”
“Not much. It was hot. Iceland would have been better.”
“Ah, but there is no diamond trade to be protected in Iceland. Cod are not nearly as sparkly.”
Ack, Ben had come. He deserved some credit for the gesture.
