Page 12 of Wear It Like a Crown

“No, not that. Course Joshua would move in those celebrity kind of circles. He’s friends with Mo Puri, right, and Puri is a pretty well-known model. Like the Armani campaign? The underwear one?” There was a fascinating tinge of pink to Nate’s cheeks. Leo could not recall seeing that particular Armani campaign, no, but maybe he should take a look. Based on Nate’s reaction, it sounded worth the while.

“‘Friends.’” Leo lifted one hand to mime air quotes. “Yes, Joshua and that Mo person appear to beverygood friends. Makes me wonder whether I need to rethink my own definition of friendship, since I’m clearly missing a certain element there.”

Nate appeared to consider a rebuttal, then merely shook his head. “So you don’t think there’s anyone missing from that list?”

“His father?” Leo frowned and took another look, narrowing his eyes. Incomplete, how was that list incomplete? Who was missing? Apart from James’ team, who should be on there and wasn’t?

“It’s so easy to forget the people in the background,” Nate said softly. “The ones who are just there, and maybe you never tell them stuff, but they see so much more than you think.”

Oh.

Oh.

“The people in the background,” Leo repeated slowly, and for a moment he was tempted to ask whether that was the kind of work Nate had done before this, whether he’d specialised in blending in with his surroundings, no one questioning his presence as he’d slipped in and out of rooms without anyone taking much notice, giving him a chance to sneak away and hack into computer systems. They didn’t share stories from their past though; for all intents and purposes, their lives may as well have started when they’d joined James’ crew. Leo had his suspicions, of course—Ben might have spent some time in prison, Nate showed traces of military training, and parts of Carole’s story seemed to resemble Leo’s own—but he’d never sought to confirmhis theories.

They’d all been promised a clean slate. It was only fair he allowed others the same courtesy he expected.

“Don’t ever forget the people in the background,” Nate told him, a strange set to his mouth.

Leo nodded and didn’t ask.

One of Joshua’s bodyguards was in serious,seriousdebt.

Leo wasn’t entirely certain how Nate had retrieved the financial status of everyone around Joshua, and he didn’t think he wanted to know. What he gathered was that Tristan’s family was filthy rich and didn’t believe in placing restrictions on their son, that one of Mo’s modelling gigs paid more than Leo made in a year, that Ed Sheeran must be the least millionaire-like multimillionaire, that leading the Royal Communications unit came with a decent salary, and that those in Joshua’s immediate employ were rewarded for their discretion with generous pay cheques.Andthat one of Joshua’s bodyguards had a problem holding onto that pay cheque regardless.

Which was why Leo had charmed his way into the good graces of a neighbour to that Johnson guy.

While Nate searched the man’s flat and Carole stood guard, Leo had tea with wiry old Ms Adams. Initially, she hadn’t been too pleased at receiving an unannounced social call so late in the day, but by now, they were having a pleasant chat about the Royal Ballet’s classic staging ofRomeo and Julietand the upcoming world premiere ofThe Winter’s Tale. In between trying not to fuss with the starched collar of his button-up, Leo managed to steer the conversation towards Johnson’s habits and the guests he tended to entertain.

All in the interest of a covert, royally sanctioned background check, of course. Because Mr Johnson Bales was in line for a great honour. Or in line for prison, whichever.

“He used to besucha nice chap,” Ms Adams said. “A quiet neighbour, never any problems, really.” After that, she faltered. Leo refilled her teacup and smiled, resting his hands on his thighs. Shecontinued while studying him carefully. “You told me you are looking for input into a nomination of Mr Bales for—what was it, dear?”

“The Order of Bath,” Leo supplied, tone confident. “The Queen usually awards it for outstanding military service, but civilians may also receive it for acts of bravery. And she believes that someone who keeps her son out of harm’s way would merit such an honour.” In all honesty, he was relying on shaky memories of the Honours systems and could only hope that Ms Adams wouldn’t be able to spot potential mistakes in his narrative. Leo was an ace bullshitter, though. It was how he’d caught James’ attention in the first place.

When her indecisive expression held, Leo leaned forward just a little, looking up from under his lashes to make himself appear harmless and trustworthy. His tone was smooth like melted butter. “Provided, of course, that he is a role model in every respect, and that the candid opinions of those in his vicinity would recommend him for it. We will hold everything you say in strict confidence, I assure you.”

“Well. I am not generally one to speak ill of anyone.” Ms Adams’ chin lifted proudly, and wasn’t it funny how that sort of statement was always, without fail, followed by its originator speaking very ill of someone?

“I wouldn’t ask you to.” Leo made his voice low and soothing. “I am merely trying to ensure that the Crown honours individuals who are deserving. True model citizens.”

Another second passed in silence. Then Ms Adams set her cup down with a dainty clink, laced her fingers in her lap and pursed her lips. “Well then.”

“Two nights before Joshua’s trip to Spain, some guys forced their way into Johnson’s flat.” Leo dropped into the backseat of Carole’s car and folded his legs up onto the upholstery. “Four of them, and the neighbour says they looked like a bad sort. Also says that Johnson’s become increasingly curt and tetchy in the last few months.”

“Shoes off the seat,” Carole told him without even looking into the rearview mirror. She pulled off the kerb with a little jerk, her sadexcuse for a car reluctant to launch into traffic. At one point, the old Fiat would turn to dust right under their arses.

“Caz, one of my shoes is worth more than this pile of trash,” Leo said. “So what did you guys find?”

“Gambling.” From the passenger seat, Nate handed his phone to Leo. The screen was open to a picture folder, overly bright in the darkness that was beginning to settle. When Leo enlarged the images one after the other, he made out slips of paper covered in a lazy scrawl, numbers and figures, ticket stubs. Oh, hesoloved this part, gathering the puzzle pieces until everything came together.

He passed the phone back and undid the first three buttons of his shirt. “Did you copy his hard drive?”

“Course. But if I had tobet,”—Nate snorted at his own phrasing—“it wasn’t the guy himself. Doesn’t seem the type, does he? Maybe he just gave them a tip to get them off his back. Or maybe he did set it up, but I don’t think it was his idea.”

“We shall see.” Leo steepled his fingers together and beamed, wide and broad like a criminal mastermind. In his next life, he intended to become a supervillain. In this one, he was saving a prince from public exposure.

Not too bad.