Free His Royal Favorite by Lilah Pace Page A

citizenship in the United Kingdom? That would help James, wouldn’t it?
    But he had no time to think it over; Roberto was off and running. “You did or did not get that econ degree?”
    “I got the bachelor’s. Just didn’t go to grad school as planned.”
    “Fair to say you live in a middle-income area of Islington?”
    “Sure.” As though anyplace in London were priced for “middle-income” individuals. Ben only knew that he spent more than half of his take-home salary on an apartment he wasn’t going to get to use for a while.
    “You like classical music—”
    “Do they need to know that?”
    Roberto shrugged. “They’re gonna want some personal detail. Either I talk about you always listening to Beethoven on your headphones, or I tell everybody about the corgi fur on your jeans.”
    “I like classical music.”
    “And the corgis stay out of it.”
    Ben glanced around the newsroom, where a couple dozen people were trying not to be obvious about staring at him, and being terrible at it. “Roberto? Thanks.”
    “For the pep talk the other night?” Roberto’s grin was sheepish. “I had no idea what I was doing there.”
    “I actually meant for today. Right now.”
Treating me just like you did before.
    Roberto got it. “They’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
    “Hope so,” Ben said, and then his phone buzzed, telling him the car was waiting downstairs, and the story was about to go live. He slung his stuff into his satchel, shouldered it, and walked out of the office, aware of being watched the whole time.
    As he sat in the back of the car, hearing not one word from the stone-faced chauffeur, Ben couldn’t help glancing behind him. It felt like he wasn’t just leaving the Global Media building and riding a few minutes in busy London traffic; it felt as though he were taking a far longer journey.
    They pulled through the palace gates. Ben still wasn’t used to walking in through the front door. He wasn’t used to seeing half a dozen staffers and servants watch him the whole time he walked out. The butler, whom he had always found vaguely forbidding, was now a welcome and familiar figure as he showed Ben to the door of the private suite.
    Even as Ben started up the stairs, he heard James call, “There you are!”
    He took the steps two at a time, the quicker to make it to James, who immediately folded Ben into his arms. Ben hugged him tightly, trying to banish the rest of his fears in the warmth of their embrace.
    “You’re still so cold,” James whispered, running his hands over Ben’s ears and hair. “It’s bitter out.”
    Ben had no use for small talk. “You were magnificent today. I’ve never been so proud of anyone.”
    James kissed his cheek. “Thank you for standing with me.” Then he pulled back, bright and eager. His face shone with joy. “Come on. I’ve something I want to show you.”
    His hand in James’s, Ben allowed himself to be led through the suite, into James’s bedroom—but just when he thought he’d be tackled onto the mattress, they went into a small sitting room off to the side, one that didn’t seem to get used much. James opened a door Ben had always assumed led to a closet. Instead they walked into yet another bedroom. It was more grandly furnished than James’s own, with the sort of elegantly impersonal air that told Ben nobody slept there regularly.
    “We really should have made this Cassandra’s room,” James said. “But she wanted a view of the gardens, so nobody’s even pretended to stay here for years. Now it’s yours.”
    Ben frowned. “Mine?”
    James smiled. “Of course I hope you’ll be in my bed most nights, or that we’ll be together here. But I know it’s hard, giving up your flat even for a little while. You should have some space of your own where you can settle in. Space that belongs only to you.”
    It was of course very considerate of James to have thought of it. Yet Ben felt himself balking. Having his own room felt a lot