Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
The door behind Ryan opened. It was his mother.
“Darling, your father is here,” she told Jamie, frowning. “He seems agitated. He’s waiting for you downstairs.”
His eyes wide, Jamie looked at Ryan. “What do you think he wants?” he asked, a look of anxiety crossing his features. “He never comes looking for me here.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and grimaced. “I forgot I put it on silent. I have three missed calls from him. Do you think something happened?”
“Calm down,” Ryan said, laying a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “It’s probably nothing.”
They both knew it was unlikely to be nothing, but Jamie relaxed under his touch a little. “Let’s go,” he said.
Ryan followed him downstairs, to the small room where Zach kept medical records of his regular clients.
Arthur Grayson stood there, with his back straight and his hands in his pockets. His face was inscrutable, but Ryan knew Arthur well enough to notice the subtle tension in his body. His mother was wrong: Arthur wasn’t agitated—he was furious.
“I wish to speak to my son alone,” Arthur said in a deceptively calm, quiet voice.
Jamie said nothing.
Ryan glanced at him. “I’ll stay,” he told Arthur in a tone that brooked no argument.
A muscle jumped in Arthur’s cheek. “This is a private matter, Hardaway.”
“I’ll stay,” Ryan repeated, leaning his hip against the desk. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
He had never seen Arthur so enraged. Arthur wasn’t a physically imposing man, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in sheer presence. “You—”
Ryan held Arthur’s gaze steadily, not at all intimidated.
Arthur was the first to look away. “James,” he bit out. “Tell your friend to leave.”
“You can say anything in front of him. We have no secrets.”
A sneer curled Arthur’s lips. “Does he know you’re a shirt-lifter, then?”
Swearing on the inside, Ryan looked at Jamie, who had gone deathly pale. Ryan forced himself to stay still, even though all he wanted was to envelop Jamie in his arms and take him away from this room, from that man. Jamie wouldn’t want his interference. He wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of his father.
He watched Jamie swallow and attempt to school his face into a blank mask. “How have you found out?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.
Arthur’s sneer took on a disgusted edge. He pulled an envelope out of his inner pocket and slammed it on the desk.
Jamie hesitated before walking over and opening it. His lips pressed together when he pulled out the photographs. They were blurry, but even from a few feet away, Ryan recognized Jamie and Lambert. They were kissing. Lamber was kissing Jamie’s mouth. Jamie’s mouth.
An ugly emotion twisted his stomach. Then Ryan realized the pictures must have been taken several months ago. He breathed out and unclenched his fists, disturbed his own reaction.
“Imagine my surprise when a journalist approached me at the Christmas ball.” Arthur’s voice could have cut a diamond. “I had to pay him a small fortune for his silence.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Jamie said, his voice still firm even though he looked like he was about to be sick. “I’m not ashamed of my sexuality. I’m gay. It happens.”
“Insolent boy,” Arthur said. “Luckily for you, I’m willing to forget this ever happened. You will marry Megan Cadogan in three months.”
“I won’t,” Jamie said, lifting his chin. “Don’t you get that I’m gay, Dad?”
“Stop saying that,” Arthur hissed, hands balled into fists by his sides.
Ryan eyed them. “Either calm down, or get out. Sir.”
A muscle in Arthur’s jaw started ticking. “All of this is your fault. If James hadn’t clung to you throughout his formative years, he would have been normal.”
“He’s perfectly normal,” Ryan gritted out. “And if you can’t stop insulting him, you’d better get out before I plant my fist in your face. Sir.”
“Ryan,” Jamie said softly. “Don’t. He’s just upset. He’ll get over it.”
“Upset,” Ryan repeated in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Jamie said, though there was no real conviction in his voice. “He’s upset because he loves me. He’s disappointed because he had expectations. That’s it. It would have been worse if he didn’t care at all.”
Arthur’s face was a stony mask, impossible to read as he stared at his son. “Are you still…associating with that man?” he said, jerking his head toward the envelope.
“We broke up months ago,” Jamie said. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m still gay. I was going to tell you. I don’t want to marry Megan. I want—I want to be with someone I love.” Immediately, he flushed, looking highly uncomfortable.
“Someone you love,” Arthur repeated flatly. He looked at Ryan, his eyes narrowed. “And who would that be?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jamie said, looking anywhere but at Ryan. “My point is, it’s not the Middle Ages and I don’t have to marry someone I don’t love to get the heir. There are other ways.”