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CHAPTER6
Ben felt a little bad about leaving for New York. It wasn’t just about Ashley, Alex had started as promised and within three hours, it was as if his life had elements of structure and order again. He would be moving in over the weekend, and Ben probably should have been there.
He swirled his wine as he settled into the seat he’d laid claim to. North Down was the sort of place he’d have come to years ago, when he was at his wildest, where money outweighed sense by a country mile and Ashley would have hated it on principle. He was old enough to know better these days, although age wasn’t necessarily a deterrent to some of the other patrons who were calculating everyone who walked through the door in dollar signs. This was not the sort of place you met real friends, but rubbed shoulders with people who wanted to be seen with the right sort. Several women and at least a couple of men had given him appraising looks, an ego boost that didn’t need acting on, and as many had a similar reaction to Dorian and he was sure a few had realised who he was. Dorian’s demeanour transmitted he didn’t want to be bothered, which suited Ben to no end.
“I bet the membership for here’s not insubstantial,” Dorian said, sipping his wine.
“I thought you might have been a member,” Ben said.
“Not in New York. When I went out here it was when it was needed, usually to be seen around a release or with my so-called girlfriend at the time so it was believable, but usually a high society nightclub rather than this sort of member’s place where you sit around drinking. I never had an issue of getting on a guest list.”
Ben had not been too dissimilar, he’d known enough people that, when he was in New York, he could get into the best places. Tonight they were hanging from Robin’s coattails and considering how long it was taking for him to get back from the bathroom, being stopped every few minutes, Robin was clearly as popular here as he was in London. Ben was surprised to see Robin enjoying the attention a lot more than when they’d been out back in England because he needed to be careful and Ben had hoped he’d learnt his lesson.
He saw Dorian scowl and Ben turned in the direction he was staring. Robin was talking to a man so attractive Ben forgot to breathe for a moment, then he realised who it was. Italian male models with a penchant for rich Brits were not common, and this one had been blatant about wanting Robin.
“Who’s the bloke a bit too up close and personal with Robin?”
“Marco Fontana. You know I said Robin got himself into an incriminating position? It was with him.” Ben hadn’t met him, but he’d seen a photo of Marco sitting across Robin’s lap, wearing low-slung jeans and a shirt so sheer it wouldn’t have survived a stiff breeze.
“Perhaps one of us should remind Robin he has company this evening?”
Marco had rested a hand on Robin’s chest, and leant in to whisper something. Robin shook his head, removed the hand and took a step back.
Ben reckoned Simon would go ballistic if he saw Marco still buzzing around Robin.
“I’ll go.”
Ben stood and made his way over, stopping to stand a few feet behind Marco. The music was low enough that a polite cough would do the job, but he didn’t have to wait long for Robin to realise he was there. He looked grateful and put even more distance between himself and Marco.
“Hey, Ben, this is Marco. Marco this is Ben Redbourn, the Earl of Crofton.”
Marco saluted him with his glass of champagne, his stare lingering and appreciative. “Another pretty British noble. I am a lucky boy this evening.”
“Hardly, I’ve come to steal Robin away. We’re supposed to be discussing his upcoming visit home to see his partner, who is one of my husband’s best friends.”
Robin nodded. “Sorry, got distracted.”
Marco pouted, and Ben suspected he thought it made him more alluring than it actually did. “Looks like I’ll have to find my fun elsewhere.”
He hip-checked Robin and glided away, his model poise evident in every step.
“I thought you’d learnt your lesson,” he said to Robin.
“I have and it is completely one-sided. I’ve made it clear I’m not interested.”
Ben was glad to hear it. He’d been worried, Robin was a good man, but because of who he was, he could have anything or anyone he wanted and a lot of folks thought he’d be willing to gorge on everything that was offered. Although if people stopped to consider they’d realise that wasn’t the Flint way.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you my opinion.”
“No, and we share it. I’m not stupid, Ben. I’m not going to give Simon more reason to worry, I’ve stretched his trust enough and I won’t do it again.”
They returned to Dorian who was topping up his wine from the bottle. “Dealt with the pretty little problem then.”
Robin tutted as he sat down, the three of them on a curved sofa tucked away to the side that Robin had reserved at the cost of God knew what for the evening. “There was nothing to deal with. I don’t appreciate the assumption—from either of you—that I am the sort of man who would cheat on his partner.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Dorian said, his trademark lop-sided grin in place. “You’re a lot of things but a cheating scumbag isn’t one of them. And he’s a bit young for your tastes. Don’t you prefer older men?”
Ben was surprised at the ease of conversation. There had been a point when he didn’t think Robin and Dorian would be anything but civil to each other but this interaction was friendly, putting aside the hurt and leaning on the years they’d known each other.
