Page 19 of Wear It Like a Crown

Cheap date

Joshua’s smiley made it clear he was teasing.

Breakfast would be great, but are you fine with homemade? My place? Not the kind of conversation I want to have in public. But I make a siiick Full English breakfast, promise! And I’ll pay for your cab.

Full English breakfast, homemade? Who evenwasthis boy? This man. Man-boy.Something.

Maybe it was a joke. Or some cook would prepare the food and duck out just before Leo arrived. Yes, that sounded much more likely than Prince Joshua doing any actual cooking. For Leo, no less.

Tell me where and I’ll be there at 9

Leo replied. Then blinked at his phone until he received an address in Camden.

After confirming, he leaned his elbows on the balcony railing and stared out into the night. The road below lay deserted, the bakery downstairs hours from opening. The sign of the bank on the street corner glowed in faint hues of blue, its brightness nearly swallowed by a nearby streetlamp. He’d liked the rural feel to the area when he’d picked this flat, the quiet and peace, but right now, he wouldn’t have minded traffic rush and music spilling out of clubs.

Anything to drown out the perplexed hum of his thoughts.

THREE

Leo was late, and Joshua was a bundle of nerves.

He’d slipped out of Mo’s flat shortly after eight, while Tristan and Mo had still been out for the count and unable to ask uncomfortable questions. After picking up some fresh ingredients from the organic shop around the corner, Joshua had set to work. Now it was ten past nine, and everything was ready but the bread and eggs. He tugged at the knot of his apron and went to check that he hadn’t forgotten anything when he’d laid out the table outside.

Even though he’d been waiting for it, the sound of the doorbell made him jump. Right. This was it.

Time to face the music.

The door viewer showed Leo looking out at the street, shifting from foot to foot. For a moment, Joshua was transfixed by the line of Leo’s profile—hair sweeping across his forehead, the clear cut of his nose, a hint of stubble, and the curve of his thin upper lip which was offset by a more generous bottom lip. He was kind of stunning.

It wasn’t the point of this meeting, though. At all. Leo’s behaviour had not invited inappropriate delusions on Joshua’s part. Mostly.

“Top floor,” Joshua spoke into the transmission before he buzzed Leo up. He left the door open and went to place the bread in the pan,listening for the sound of movement in the stairway. The old wood creaked with each footstep.

“Hello?” Leo called when he reached the door.

“Kitchen,” Joshua replied. “Come on in.”

A second later, Leo poked his head into the room. He was barefoot, wearing a band T-shirt and tight jeans, looking like he’d hopped off a runway. With a start, Joshua realised he was still in his apron, the one Tristan had given him which projected a woman’s body onto Joshua’s chest. Mortifying. Quickly, Joshua yanked it off.

The gleam of amusement in Leo’s eyes made it clear he’d seen it. Fortunately, he didn’t comment. “No bodyguard?” he asked, drawing closer. It was followed by, “Wait, you were actuallyseriousabout that homemade breakfast.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Joshua used a spatula to check the slices of bread. Another minute on this side before he could turn them over. “And I didn’t feel like it. Security detail, I mean. Johnson was my main one, and he should have been on duty until this afternoon, but—you know. So.” Avoiding Leo’s eyes, he crouched down to peer into the oven; the sausages and bacon glistened with grease, the smell wafting through the kitchen.

“I get it,” Leo said after a beat of silence.

Joshua exhaled and glanced over his shoulder for a quick smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Leo’s gaze swept over the space, lingering on a blackboard that contained some to-do’s and a packing list for Spain, interspersed with Mo’s doodles. Stepping closer to the fridge, Leo examined the photographs Joshua had put up there, random shots of things that had caught his attention. Leo’s voice was absent as he asked, “You need help with anything?”

Joshua flipped the bread. “It’s fine. Almost done.”

Silence wrapped around them while Joshua prepared the eggs, the gas hob hissing gently, typical city noises spilling in through the open windows. It was quite possible that the mild awkwardness hanging between them was only in Joshua’s imagination. For his part, Leo seemed content to amble around the kitchen, openly curious as he examined this and that. Without asking for permission to explore, hedisappeared into the attached living room. Joshua should have expected something like this; after all, Leo had disregarded conventions from the moment they’d met, in spite of his familiarity with official protocol. It was as intriguing as it was frustrating.

Much like Leo himself.

While Leo appeared to venture further into the flat, Joshua piled the food onto two plates, nicely arranging bread and eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms and black pudding. “Breakfast’s ready,” he called. “Out on the terrace.”

Leo’s vaguely affirmative noise drifted back from somewhere. Not that there was that much for him to explore—kitchen, living room, master bedroom, a guest room and a large bathroom was the extent of Joshua’s flat. It was plenty of space for one person of course, and Joshua wondered what Leo would make of it: a generously sized flat in Camden, overlooking Regent’s Canal but off the beaten tourist paths, in a street lined with old, distinguished houses.