Page 111 of Wear It Like a Crown

Leo rolled onto his side to face him. “It’s somewhat sad, yes,” he started, briefly distracted by the heavy flush to Joshua’s cheeks. Holy shit, how had Leo spent twenty-seven years on this earth without knowing just how fuckingbrilliantsex could be? Since Joshua was watching him with calm patience, Leo made himself continue. “But it’s sad mostly because I was just emerging from a sad place, and this signifies… trying to make my peace with it, I guess. I got it a day after James offered me the job.”

Joshua nodded slightly, gaze flicking back down to take in the cursive “Sometimes things just happen. Other times you make them happen” as though seeing it in a new light. Then he looked back up to meet Leo’s eyes. “How did that come about? James, I mean?”

“Stroke of luck.” Leo shifted a little, felt a pleasant twinge in his muscles. Sleepiness had dissolved into a lazy, content kind of looseness. “He was supposed to meet a client in the bar I happened to browse that night. James’ client never showed, but something about me caught his eye. And, see, I noticed this guy staring at me while I was making the rounds and trying to charm the right person into buying me a beer, and then buying me, period.”

To Joshua’s credit he didn’t flinch—simply pressed his lips together, a downwards tilt to his mouth. He didn’t interrupt.

“So anyway.” Leo’s shrug turned out awkward with the way he was lying down. “This guy comes up to me, all easy smile, and tells me he’s been watching me and likes what he sees. Bit creepy, mind, and I knew better than to go with the creepy ones. Which is exactly what I told him.” He shook his head, very slightly, and when he closed his eyes he could still picture it perfectly behind his lids: the smoky interior of the bar, James’ face caught in shadows, his gaze heavy and knowing. “Can’t say I felt particularly reassured when he laughed and was all, ‘Glad to see you’ve got a sense of self-preservation, kid. That’ll serve you well. But I’m not a punter.’ And then he, like, told me he was interested in myotherskill set. As in, uh… ‘The one that had that bloke over there go from frowning to buying you a drink even though he’s got a wife and no interest in your services.’”

Flexibility and charm, that was how James had described it later. The skill to adapt to different situations and people, and then play them with ease. If it weren’t for that lucky coincidence of Leo being in the right place at the right time… If James’ client had shown up that night, if Leo had settled on a different bar or decided to take the night off…

He wouldn’t be here today.

The notion had Leo reach out and twine a hand into the corkscrew curls at Joshua’s temple. Joshua leaned into the touch. “Good judge of character, that James,” he said.

“The very best. And we made it a rule not to talk about his saviour complex.” Leo paused to organise his scrambled thoughts. “So, he asked me how I’d feel about a steady job, one where I could keep my clothes on, and I told him I wouldn’t sell his drugs. To which he said…” With a little grin, he shrugged again. “‘I don’t sell drugs. I sell stories.’”

Joshua pondered this for a moment before he smiled, sudden and glowing. “Would it be outrageous if I gifted him with a title?”

Leo was startled into laughter, warmth seeping from the sunlit room into his bones. “Only you would say something that ridiculous, Princey.”

“That’s not a no,” Joshua decided. “Also, when did we go from Princeling and little prince to Princey?”

“Not sure, but I like it. There’s something very Disney about it, you know?Cinderella, I think. It suits you, what with your big green Bambi eyes and long gangly limbs and all.”

“So you’d be, what? Aladdin?” Joshua asked. “Because if so, I’d be Jasmine, and I want a pet tiger. I would rock a tiger.”

Since it was a moral obligation to stop him from spouting bullshit, Leo covered Joshua’s mouth with his own. It was a sacrifice, of course, but Leo had always believed in doing right by the people—and now that he’d begun to reclaim his birth name, he had better live up to the noble responsibility that came with it.

Due to road conditions and everyone advising against travelling the distance by car, the group took Joshua’s private jet from Rio to Belo Horizonte. Leo spent the drive to the airport in the backseat of a steel-plated Mercedes, its tinted windows veiling the morning in grey. With his head in Leo’s lap, Joshua had fallen back asleep almost as soon as they’d climbed in, and Leo was carding his fingers through the tangled mess of Joshua’s curls while casually feeling out the bodyguard who’d come to replace Johnson.

True to Nate’s background check from a few weeks ago, this Zach bloke seemed perfectly all right. When he talked about Joshua there was true affection in his tone, and at the mention of Johnson his eyes narrowed in disapproval—he hadn’t been told the full story behind his sudden replacement, but it was obvious he’d formed a suspicion.

Yes, Leo decided. Zach could stay.

The flight to Belo Horizonte took them about anhour, and then they were whisked to their hotel with smooth efficiency. Joshua refused Leo’s offer of contributing to the flight and the cost of their shared suite on the grounds that Joshua would have had to pay for it regardless, and Leo decided to let it rest. He needed to pick his battles, and this wasn’t an important one.

On the other hand, he did forbid Joshua from pulling some strings to get Leo and Nate some last-minute tickets to England’s match tomorrow. They could have tried buying some for themselves, but since the black market was more likely to supply them with forgeries than the real thing, they would be watching it on the telly, and that was that. After considering Leo for several moments, Nate agreed with an easy shrug.

Neither Mo nor Joshua fought them over it.

The five of them got up early on Tuesday, the overcast sky only just beginning to brighten, and visited what was considered the closest thing to a central square the megacity had to offer. At this hour the Praça da Liberdade was largely empty. They took a stroll around the perimeter to get an impression of the different architectural styles, although Mo was the only one with actual knowledge—in all honesty, his rambling monologue about modernism and French neoclassicism was a strain for Leo’s sleepy brain. Nate, on the other hand, was gazing at Mo as though his mere existence was the best thing since the invention of superheroes. It made Leo hide a grin against Joshua’s shoulder.

“Please tell me we’re not on their level of ridiculous,” he whispered.

“We’re not on their level of ridiculous,” Joshua parroted obediently, following it up with a cheeky squeeze of Leo’s bum.

Leo twisted away with an outraged exclamation of, “Not inpublic. Have you no shame?”

“He doesn’t,” Tristan supplied, and Joshua pointed at him.

“Be quiet, you. I haveseenthings, and you have no room to talk.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Leo tipped his face back to study a tall building shaped like a colossal wave, and found himself grinning at nothing in particular.Just happy.

Afterwards, they took a trip up winding mountain roads to visit Ouro Preto, a former colonial mining town, and ate breakfast while following cobblestone streets through a maze of well-preservedBaroque buildings. They returned to Belo Horizonte just past noon, and then Joshua, Mo and Tristan had to rush to get to the stadium in time for the match.

Leo and Nate ended up in a bar around the corner from the hotel, sipping on Caipirinhas, ice-cooled glasses sweating in their hands. The match ended in a draw with Costa Rica, which meant that the England squad dropped out of the tournament with one sad, lonely point to their name. To dull the pain, Leo ordered another Caipirinha, tucked himself closer to Nate’s side and ranted about the English team employing a guy solely to spray overheated players with water, yet the whole football thing appeared beyond their comprehension. Nate made sympathetic noises in all the right places and patted Leo’s back.