Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
But when that boss is Ignatius Corbridge–my handsome, secretly-lonely, utterly-wonderful Iggy–one really can’t help it.
For decades, I’ve stood by his side, fulfilling my role as his right-hand man, his mentor, his friend. I’ve pressed his suits, arranged his travel, and witnessed a thousand walks of shame as he scratched itch after itch with elite playboys around the globe.
Each day, it killed me just a little bit more.
So I did what needed to be done for both of I quit.
More than that, I took myself on a sightseeing adventure halfway around the globe to put some distance between us.
But when I board the sleeper car on the luxury African safari train, the first sight that greets me is the man I left behind.
Iggy wants me back…
And from the heated look in his eyes, it’s apparent he no longer sees me as his valet... and hasn’t for quite some time.
The Billionaire's Valet first appeared in the Dissent Anthology.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
IGGY
“Where the fuck are you?” Lio asked. Even though I was almost 9,000 miles away from my best friend, he sounded just as loudly annoyed as if he were standing next to my ear.
“Cape Town, South Africa,” I admitted, feeling a little sheepish. To be fair, when most people got bad news, they drowned their sorrows at the local pub, drinking two—or twelve—too many pints.
When I got bad news—the worst news—I apparently made spontaneous safari adventure plans.
I sighed. “Don’t start.”
“I already started,” he snapped. “Everyone’s worried sick. Your father said you’ve barely spoken a word since you heard.”
I raked shaky fingers through my hair for the millionth time. No doubt I looked half-crazed, which was perhaps a good thing. My expensive clothes and Tumi carry-on made me a sitting duck in the crowd of travelers trying to find ground transportation.
Normally, I would have only needed to look for my name on a tasteful sign indicating the car and driver that my valet—who was also my bodyguard, secretary, confidant, and the gravity that kept my personal solar system aligned—had arranged for me. But nothing was normal about this trip, considering I’d booked it myself while drunk and sobbing on the marble floor of my foyer.
“What news?” I asked, feigning casual disinterest. “My valet quit. Big deal.”
Lio made a choking, sputtering noise. “Jon Banks has been with you since we were fourteen years old. He’s your best fucking friend.”
“You’re my best fucking friend,” I corrected, trying to ignore the fierce jab to my heart at hearing Jon’s name spoken out loud. “B-banks was an employee, nothing more.”
“Bullshit. I know you’re hurting. Did he explain? Give you a reason? Anything? I asked Arthur, and he said Banks has kept everything close to the vest.”
My lips felt numb as I thought about Jon’s fierce loyalty. Of course he wouldn’t have said anything to Lio’s valet. I could have shot Banks in the kneecap for a lark, and he would have told the authorities he tripped and fell onto a bullet. I could just hear his soft, familiar murmur. “Silly me.”
I swallowed around a lump in my throat and wondered if I’d reached humiliation’s rock bottom yet. If I had one shred of dignity left, I’d fling it merrily by the wayside with another desperate text or call to Jon’s number, but I wasn’t strong enough to wait for another response that wasn’t coming. Instead, I kept Lio on the phone as long as I could to keep myself from breaking my own damned heart.
“How’s Felix?” I asked, feigning a cheery grin. “Still worshipping the porcelain gods?”
Lio let out a fond sigh. “I keep trying to tell my husband, sympathy morning sickness isn’t a thing. Our poor surrogate though. She’s having a rough time of it.”
My best friend, the king of Liorland, the man I’d slept with a thousand times to help scratch my own itch and allow him to do the same while keeping his sexuality out of the tabloids, had finally found love. It had meant an end to our casual friends-with-benefits scheme and the beginning of a giant, excruciating, mostly dry spell for me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Pregnancy’s hard enough without being watched by the entire world.”
“Yeah. Everyone has a fucking opinion—like it’s any of their damned business. But she’s hanging in there. She’s strong as hell.”
I let out a relieved breath. Talking about Lio and Felix’s pregnancy journey was a safe topic. They already had a son named Chris, who was the light of all our lives. Part of me hoped the next one was a fiery little girl who gave them a run for their money.
“Boy or girl, you have to promise to put Ignatius somewhere in her name. You royals like lots of names, so no one will ever notice.”
He scoffed. “You think I don’t notice you trying to change the subject, but I do. I know you’re hurting. And I know you’re hiding.”
“I’ve loved him half my life,” I whispered, the words so small I could barely hear them myself.
“I know.” Lio’s voice was affectionate and kind. “And you need to tell him.”
I barked out a laugh, enough for three women near me in baggage claim to edge farther away. “Been there, done that. Have the rejection memories—many of them, by the way—to prove it.”
Lio hadn’t always known about my crush on Jon. But then I’d lost control one night and blabbed to Felix, who’d gone straight to Lio to discuss “what we should do about Ignatius.”
“Iggy… confessing your crush to Banks as a young teenager doesn’t count. He was ten years older than your skinny ass and would have been arrested on the spot for even considering it. Confessing again in a blackout-drunken stupor on your eighteenth birthday was also a poor choice. Besides the fact your parents were in the next room for our Hotchkiss graduation, Banks had also just returned from his mother’s funeral in Arizona. After losing her, he couldn’t afford to lose his job, too. You’re a billionaire. He’s your servant.”