Page 13 of Wear It Like a Crown

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Joshua was tipsy.

Not drunk, mind, but a little blurry around the edges, loose-limbed and his lids heavier than they had any right to be. Made no sense in terms of, like, volume and weight… things. Lids were thin and not very large, right, so unless they had suddenly turned to lead, it couldn’t possibly be this difficult to keep them open. Sniffling, he turned his face in against Tristan’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

“Are you smelling me?” Tristan asked, sounding amused and far too sober for Joshua’s liking. He needed everyone to be drunk and swimmy and unfocused. He needed this day to never have happened.

“Smells like home,” Joshua muttered, and Mo puffed a laugh intohis hair.

Tristan pulled Joshua closer by the sleeve. “Weirdo.”

“You love me.”

“Amazingly, I do,” Tristan said.

Joshua was about to return the sentiment, go into a ramble about how he loved both Tristan and Mo a whole damn lot and was so, so grateful to have them in his life—maybe he was more than a little tipsy—when his phone buzzed against his thigh. He made a disgruntled noise and considered ignoring it. If this was George calling him about The Backup Plan, ominous capital letters and all, Joshua would rather saw off his own leg than deal with it at this very moment. Saw off his own leg with aspoon.

After three rings and an utter lack of reaction from Joshua, Mo dug into Joshua’s pocket for the phone. He picked up with, “This is Joshua’s phone, Mo Puri speaking. What’s up?”

They were close enough that Joshua caught the lilt of Leo’s voice. Sitting up with a start, Joshua snatched the phone from Mo and uttered a quick, “Hi. Leo?Hey.”

“Sir Joshua,” Leo acknowledged. “Making your non-boyfriend answer the phone for you, really? I take it this is the glamorous royal lifestyle the papers keep talking about.”

Was this teasing? It felt like it, what with the spark of brightness to Leo’s voice. Joshua tried to collect his skittish thoughts and wind them into a reply that made sense. “Sorry. Needed to wash down the caviar with some champagne. One shouldn’t talk with a full mouth, you know.”

“Given the circumstances, I’m strongly tempted to make a pun about you having your mouth full.” As soon as the words were out, Leo seemed to regret them, his tone growing abruptly smooth and professional. “Never mind. There’s an actual reason I’m calling.”

And just like that, Joshua’s stomach filled with ice.

“A reason?” he repeated softly. “What reason? Did you find something?”

Next to him, both Mo and Tristan stilled, then crept closer to listen.

“Might have,” Leo said. “Who’s with you right now?”

“Um.” Joshua cleared his throat, tried to focus and speak around the rawness of his throat. “Mo and Tristan. But they’re not?—”

“I meant bodyguards,” Leo interrupted, and oh.

“Johnson. Leo, what?—”

Again, Leo didn’t let him finish. “Thought so. Can you come to our office? Bring the bloke with you, please. And your friends if you want to, I’ll leave that up to you.”

Joshua’s chest felt carved out from the inside, as though someone had removed all the blood and flesh and muscles and bones that should hold it together. “Okay,” he whispered, and it hardly sounded like his own voice.

When the call ended, he lowered the phone, turned into Tristan’s open arms and felt Mo curl up against his back. Breathe. He needed tobreathe. And then he needed to pull himself together and act normal for the duration of their trip to Boyle’s office, normal enough that nothing would seem amiss.

Johnson. Oh God. Was this—it had been implied, hadn’t it? The way Leo had specifically asked which bodyguard was with Joshua, had told him to “bring the bloke” when he’d learned it was Johnson… Ithadbeen implied. Or not?

Why?Why?

Then again, did it even matter? Did it make a difference why?

Was Joshua jumping to conclusions?

“I think…” Joshua swallowed thickly and had to start again. “I think they found something. Maybe. Please don’t make me do this alone?”

“Never,” Tristan said, and Mo nodded into his hair.