Page 59 of The Himbo and the Lord

“No! Don’t Dad me. I seriously believed you when you told me this is what you wanted to do. I fucking believed you. I even helped you buy this place, but now you’ve turned it into your fucking sex den.” His arms flap around with every word, and if it wasn’t for the actual terror I feel that Ru might believe anything Dad’s shouting, then I’d probably laugh at how ridiculous he looks. “You’ve been lying to me about the summer math camp, haven’t you? You’re just out here partying and?—”

“Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up,” I shout back, surprising him into silence.

“Excuse me? Who do you?—”

“I’m your fucking son, and I haven’t done one single fucking thing to deserve this, so sit the fuck down, and shut... the fuck... up.” My clipped words seem to get through to him because he backs up three steps until his calves bump against the couch, and then he sits down.

I mimic the deep breath he takes, and keep breathing evenly when he twists his head from side to side, getting rid of some tension.

“Now, I don’t know why you came all the way here without saying a word to me, but I’m a grown-ass man. And if I was doing all the things you accused me of doing, then that wouldn’t mean I’m not still being responsible with my studies. Just like all the partying I did during college and grad school didn’t stop me from tripling my trust fund. I’ve shown you enough proof of that. You need to calm down and ask yourself why the fuck this was your first reaction, because it sure as hell isn’t my fault, you got me?”

He only stares back at me, stubbornly silent, but I know him too well, and I know he feels instantly guilty. Good. He should.

“Now, let me be clear. I haven’t been partying like before. I have been responsible with my studies, and I did come to England mainly because of the man you saw in my room. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I haven’t had time to do any of the things I did before, because I’ve been too busy wooing him.”

“Uhh.” He falters and looks behind me before he can say any more.

“You tripled your trust fund?” Ru asks.

I turn around so fast I almost overbalance, but when I can focus on him, I see his adorably confused frown. He’s even tilting his head to the side like a puppy. He’s wearing one of my shirts and a pair of well-worn basketball shorts, and he looks fucking delicious.

I’m seriously gone over this man.

“Is that really what you’re choosing to focus on right now?” I ask him, with a smile firmly on my face.

“Yeah, uh...” He pauses. Then his eyes shift to my Dad, and he puts his determined face on and walks briskly to us, extending his hand when he’s a foot away from Dad. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Waterford sir.”

Dad takes his hand and shakes it while he sends me a weird-ass look I can’t interpret, then he stands.

“Nathaniel Waterford, and you are?” he asks, not being impolite exactly but certainly not warm and fuzzy the way Mom would be. Andoh, Jesus, I’m so going to tell on him to Mom.

“Please, please, please, say it like you did that first night in the elevator,” I beg Ru before he can simply sayRu. He looks at me, clearly amused, and that little smirk stays in place when he turns back to look at Dad.

“The Honourable Rupert Francis Harrington Cardew.”

Dad’s eyebrows rise with each name and I can’t help but cackle like a hyena on speed.

“Seriously, Nathaniel,” Dad says, but I can’t stop.

“Your face.” I point needlessly. “You deserved that,” I say at last, and straighten to look Dad dead in the eyes. “I’m telling Mom what an ass you were.”

I can tell he tries to hide the wince, but he fails.

“I guess I deserve that as well. Now why don’t I take you two out to lunch—afteryou clean up,” he adds and wrinkles his nose. I’d protest him pointing out our... state, but Ru’s cheeks redden in that perfect way they do, so I can’t complain.

“Actually, I need to get to London,” Ru says, doing a good job of pretending he’s not blushing. “I have an important dinner I can’t miss, I’m afraid, and if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late.”

I don’t know if I believe every word he says, it seems like he’s leaving some things out, but I remind myself about the whole not-pushing-him thing and offer him a smile.

“I’ll be back here Sunday afternoon, though,” he quickly adds.

“Then we’ll have dinner on Sunday,” Dad says happily. “But seriously, go clean up.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Ru

After gettingan Uber back to my place and taking a shower, I climb into my car and point it south, back to London and my duty. The long miles of the motorway give me some time to reflect on the last twenty-four hours.

---