Page 2 of Wear It Like a Crown

Breathing hurt.

* * *

Morning light spilled into the meeting room and revealed the tiredness in everyone’s eyes. Nate was clutching a cup of coffee Carole had set down in front of him, jealously guarding it against anyone who might want to rob him of it. As Leo was clinging to his own mug of tea in a similar fashion, he was in no position to judge.

“Why us?” he asked.

Nate’s response consisted of a sidelong look that conveyed flat disbelief.

“I’m serious,” Leo insisted. “So some noble brat is being blackmailed over a bunch of gay pictures, and I just bet the preferred optionis shutting the whole thing down instead of coming clean. Fucking hooray. I don’t see whywehave to be a part of this.”

“I know you don’t like nobles,” Nate began, and Leo interrupted.

“Damn right I don’t. Privileged twats, the whole lot of them.” Or at least nine out of ten were, and Leo’s opinion was perfectly sound and thoroughly unbiased. He would know; he’d been one of them. Still was, technically, unless his parents had found a way to erase him from the family tree.

Nate sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like it. But please try to keep your mouth shut? James knows what he’s doing.”

James did, was the thing. He had a knack for reading people and cutting through the bullshit. Leo trusted him without question, and owed him a whole damn lot on top of that. And while Leo did not appreciate the idea that they might be expected to cover up some spoilt noble’s gay exploits—well. He’d do it. For James, and because Leo was a professional and took pride in his job.

“I’ll try,” he agreed quietly, cupping Nate’s elbow for a moment before he leaned back in his chair and ducked his head over his tea, waiting for the bitter scent to revive his will to live. Or James and their client to arrive, whichever happened first.

The tight worry lines around Nate’s eyes faded. “Good,” he said quietly.

At the end of the long conference table, Carole was setting up James’ laptop, connecting it to the big screen. Usually, anything related to computers would be Nate’s job, but Nate wasn’t a morning person and Carole was. Things like that reminded Leo just how well they worked as a team. James’ little band of strays.

Dropping his forehead onto the tabletop, Leo attempted to squeeze in another few minutes of sleep.

He startled upright when Ben strolled into the room and set a heavy folder on the table. As Leo doubted Ben had been told more than the rest of them—noble client of high standing, blackmailed with evidence of a gay sex scandal, all options on the table for now—Leo suspected that all that paper served merely decorative purposes. Maybe it was the kind of thing lawyers were taught in the course of their education: never be caught without a heavy load of documents. If argumentsfailed, they could always resort to knocking an opponent out with the folder.

“James just called,” Ben announced. “Said they’re downstairs, about to come up, and to put on our best game faces.”

Leo took a calm sip of tea and shrugged. “He always says that.”

“Sounded like he really meant it this time,” Ben said.

The room fell back into an expectant silence while they all straightened up and spread strategically around the table. Leo glanced down at himself. His outfit of skinny jeans and a wrinkled shirt was no match for Ben’s suit, Nate’s tie, or Carole’s pencil skirt. But then, Leo did the fieldwork and needed to blend into various settings, so he was allowed a hint more leeway. He’d explained that precise point to Nate. Several times.

A ping from outside the room announced the arrival of the lift. Leo set down his tea, laced his hands on the table and turned to peer into the corridor.

That was… Holyfuck.

Holyfuckingfuck.

Because right there—behind some bulky type of bodyguard and a lanky, quiffed bloke Leo knew from the news, walking next to James with his hands in his pockets… well. That was Prince Joshua.

Prince Joshua. His Royal Highness Prince Joshua Edward of Wales, second in line to the throne and unknown star of Leo’s teenage fantasies.

Leo’s plans for the day had not included this. Jesus fucking Christ.

Prince Joshua.Prince Joshuawas at the centre of a potential gay scandal. Prince Joshua was gay, or at the very least bi-curious. Prince Joshua was the kind of person who was open to paying off a blackmailer so as to protect his effortlessly privileged life from getting complicated.

Prince Joshua was a royally spoilt brat. Pun intended.

Schooling his features into an approximation of polite interest, Leo watched James lead the Prince and the quiffed bloke into the meeting room while the bodyguard positioned himself outside the door. “Prince Joshua of Wales,” James announced, after a glance around. “And Sir George Atkin, Head of Royal Communications. Allow me to introduce my team. Carole Edwards,” he waved his hand, and Carole jumped toher feet for a wobbly curtsy, “along with Ben Collins, Nate Biggs and Leo Graham.”

Ben and Nate gave bows that went far too deep, bending at the waist. For a beat, Leo considered boycotting the whole ordeal, then he caught Nate’s pointed look and got up as well, catching the Prince’s eyes before he inclined his head just enough to satisfy protocol. The Prince held Leo’s gaze for an instant before his attention slid back to James.

When Leo sat back down before anyone else he felt oddly breathless, as though he’d been briefly submerged in his past. He didn’t appreciate it one bit. Neither did he appreciate Atkin asking, “No offence, James, but can we cut your team down to the essential people? This is a delicate matter.”