Royal Indiscretion, chapter 7 (Patreon)

Doug frowned when Yves practically bolted out of his seat and headed for the window. The man stood with his back so stiff that Doug needed a chiropractor just from watching. Yves had issues. Serious, personal issues, and unless Doug missed his guess, bullying was one. The way Yves angled his body to watch the door and the room as though expecting a spitball or fist to hit the back of his neck, even while he kept his gaze out the window, made the hairs stand up on Doug’s arms.

Doug hated bullies. And from the looks of this kid, he’d been bullied a lot. It was probably unfair to call Yves a kid, though. He only looked a couple years younger than Doug himself, but there was something soft that made Doug think of youth. Perhaps it was that Yves was too refined. Doug was used to men who cursed and bluffed and threatened their way through most obstacles.

And it worked.

Doug had seen more than one good player bluster and threaten his way into a better contract. But Yves didn’t look like he could bluff a Pomeranian out of a dog biscuit. Doug knew plenty of men who would consider that a challenge. They thought that men who showed weakness needed a little toughening up.

That was bullshit; life did enough damage. Doug never wanted to be one of the bullies, although if given a choice between being bullied or doing the bullying, he’d been known to choose the latter more than once. He wasn’t proud of that, but as a young man in a rough sport, he done what he had to do to protect himself. His bisexuality made him painfully aware of the danger, so Doug had been exceptionally careful to never show a vulnerable underbelly.

It didn’t look like Yves had learned that lesson. He sighed. “Are you okay?” Doug asked.

That earned a slow head turn and raised eyebrow. Oh, this Yves had attitude down to a cold, precise artform. “I promise you I am quite well. Far better than you, considering the drama you’ve caused by bringing Rudy here.”

Doug revised his opinion. Yves might look soft, but he had some needle-sharp teeth. Doug crossed his arms and leaned back in the stiff chair. “I didn’t bring him here. He invited me. I might have shit for judgment about people, but at least I’m not hiding in closets from reporters. What was that about?” Given Yves’s wince, Doug scored a direct hit with that.

Yves drew himself up a little more. “Hasn’t anyone told you? I’m the irresponsible royal.”

“Are you being sarcastic? With that accent it’s a little tough to tell.”

“Spoken like a true troglodyte.” The deliberate way Yves said the last word made it clear he considered that the worst insult in the world. Hell, that wasn’t even in the top twenty, but Doug could play this game.

“Really? Is that the best you have? I don’t avoid technology, I’m far less old fashioned than you lot,” and at this Doug gestured to walls cluttered with old paintings and dusty books, “and my degree is marked with a summa cum laud, so I’m pretty sure I just negated any form of the word troglogyte applying to me. So what exactly is your college education in, Mr. Erudite?”

Yves stared at him, his mouth slightly open. Doug did enjoy rewiring people’s brains. He considered a bit of a hobby. When Yves still didn’t have a response, Doug continued.

“What? Did you think I didn’t have any education? Are you stereotyping all American footballers as thuggish idiots?”

Yves took a step closer and rested his hand on a wing-back chair. “I had considered it, yes.”

Doug laughed. Yves surprised him. “At least you’re honest about it. The assumptions people around here make are downright offensive.”

“Funny. Usually the people around here try to avoid offending anyone to their face, preferring to do it in private well after the fact.” Yves walked over and dropped into a chair with a studied lack of grace.

“I must bring out the worst in people. That Alba guy insulted me right to my face.”

Yves rolled his eyes. “He is a moron.”

“I might agree,” Doug said. “Most people give me stiff smiles and back away, but he got right in my face. Your aunt is about the only nice person I’ve met here.”

Yves nodded, his attention clearly elsewhere. Doug wasn’t used to being ignored, but Yves seemed to be withdrawing into himself. Changing tactics, Doug said, “I am indebted to your aunt forever for saving me from eating brains. As far as I’m concerned the only brain eating should be by zombies.”

Yves looked over in surprise. “That’s a terribly unenlightened attitude.”

“Yeah, but Americans avoid getting prion disorders like mad cow disease, don’t we? There’s an advantage to avoiding things that look disgusting. So, I am perfectly okay with my lack of open-mindedness on the food front.” Doug studied Yves. The same distant look started to appear again. Whatever was going on in Yves’s head, it had him wrapped up in himself. When Yves engaged, he was interesting, but now Doug felt like he was intruding on the man’s desire to have a close relationship with himself. Or maybe his demons.

“I should go see if I can’t find a ride. I’m sure one of the staff can point me to a ride service.” Doug stood, but before he took a step toward the door, Yves was on his feet.

“So what is your degree in?” It was the singular most awkward segue way Doug had endured all day, but he also had the feeling Yves didn’t want to be alone, so he answered.

“Business administration. So, what do you do around here?”

“Apparently I specialize in hiding in closets from reporters,” Yves said with a sneer.

“I’m not going to lie, you are rather good at it. But I’m pretty sure that’s not one of the options on career day.”

“And do they have royal count on these career days?” Yves asked.

“Nah, that’s more for people to fantasize about at night.” That came out far more sexual than Doug had intended. Yves’s eyebrows went up, and Doug blushed. He hadn’t blushed since his freshman year in college when the guys had rushed him and the other newbies in the showers. Only the terror of getting outed had prevented Doug from getting a little too excited, but he could still remember his face burning with shame as he scrambled for a towel. He’d thought after that he’d lost the ability to humiliate himself, but apparently not. Doug cleared his throat and tried to ignore the slip. “Counselors try and get you to sign up for welding or the military. My father pushed hard for the military.” 

Yves stared at Doug for a long time before he gave a sly smile and said, “How ironic. My father tried to make me go into the military. That is one occupation where I would not fit in. Actually, that’s one of many.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Everyone tells me I would’ve fit in well, but somehow I don’t see it,” Doug said. “I’m not particularly good at taking orders. I only listen to the coaches because there’s a five thousand dollar fine every time you break the training rules.”

“Five thousand? Really?”

Doug shrugged. 

“That seems rather draconian.” Yves sounded almost breathless at the idea. Maybe his family was one of those who had old money, but not a lot of it.

“I do what I have to,” Doug said. If he wanted to cash the big checks, he had to play hard and keep his nose out of trouble off the field. Now that he was getting older, Doug could feel the younger players circling like sharks, all waiting for the drop of blood that would signal the beginning of a feeding frenzy. If Doug pissed off the head office, that would be it for him. “I’m pretty sure the owners think we get too much money. They would like to keep their billions to themselves, so they take every opportunity to make sure they screw players out of every dime. As far as most of them are concerned, we players are the products that get bought and sold.”

“Imagine that, we have something in common.” The pain in Yves’s voice cut Doug to the quick. Part of Doug wanted to leave, just to get away from the emotional bleeding. Another part wanted to teach Yves to throat punch whoever had hurt him so much.

Before Doug could do either, the door opened. Hagan Jarvinen walked in followed by Lady Anne. Jarvinen had carried himself in a stiff-backed posture the whole time, but now he looked like someone had shoved rebar up his ass. He was definitely unhappy about something.

“Lady Anne,” Yves said with pure relief in his voice. 

“Yves. Hagan said you nearly caught in a mess trying to defend my honor. Thank you.” She crossed the small office in two steps and caught Yves by the shoulders before she kissed each cheek. Then she turned to Doug. “And Mr. Wasso. I hear that Little Lord Sava took off with your rental car. I know you’d be well within your rights to call the authorities…” She let her voice trail off as she gave Doug a hopeful look.

“My only goal is to find a ride back to the hotel and to make sure I don’t get stuck with the bill if that little piss-ant wrecks the car.”

Lady Anne gave Jarvinen a sharp look.

“Which rental company did you use?” Jarvinen then asked Doug. Doug had thought to keep the business card in his wallet so he fished it out and gave the duke’s secretary the details, including the car’s license number. Thank God Doug had a good memory for numbers. Jarvinen looked particularly constipated at being asked to get involved, but he took the card, offered Anne a half-bow and then retreated, leaving Doug with the two royals. He had never thought to be in this position, but if he wanted a little respectability, doing a few favors for royals was a good first step.

As soon at the door closed behind Jarvinen, Yves spoke. “Doug said you went running after Rudy.”

Lady Anne’s mouth twisted into a half-grimace. “I wanted him out of the party before Mary came. It’s her wedding day, and it would be an utter scandal if she gutted and skinned that man at the reception.” She gave a little flourish of her wrist to suggested it was all too banal for her, but there was a bit of the devil in her expression. Doug was moderately impressed with the Stenbock gene pool because it did produce interesting offspring.

“You thought I’d invited him.” Yves’s tone was so flat that it set alarm bells off in Doug’s head.

“No, I thought he would try to invite himself back into your life,” Anne said. She sat in the chair Doug had abandoned and arranged her dress around her knees, smoothing the fabric with her palms. “You are just starting to regain your balance, and I am proud of you and your work at Nick’s farm. However, Rudy is a bulldozer, and his ability to knock you off your feet is legendary.” She tilted her shoulders toward Doug and looked up at him. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t carry that bit of gossip outside this room.”

Doug held his hands out as though surrendering. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

If Doug wasn’t a good solid four or five on the Kinsey scale, he would seduce the hell out of her. However, if he wanted a quiet marriage out of the lime light with a woman who could provide finances and respectability, Lady Anne looked like a pretty poor choice. Pity.

“I am hoping you can help us with another issue.”

“Other issue?” Yves jumped in before Doug could ask the exact same question. “How many issues is Hagan juggling?”

She gave Yves a small, sad smile. “I’m afraid most of today’s issues orbit around Rudy. As soon as your sister comes back from her honeymoon and gets the full story, she’s going to hunt that boy for sport, and I’m fairly sure your father is going to look the other way and then hire someone to clean the mess up afterward.”

“I’m sorry,” Doug interrupted, “but I don’t know what’s going on.” Other than getting the distinct impression that the Countess Mary was one more dangerous Stenbock, Doug wasn’t following any of this.

Anne leaned back and rubbed the side of her neck. “When I first noticed Rudy, he was taking pictures. I wanted his phone, and that’s why I gave chase.”

“You should have called for Hagan,” Yves said. 

“I sent a servant. However, I now suspect that the reporters on the ground and Rudy’s appearance were coordinated.”

“Meaning?” Doug was starting to get annoyed by all the ambiguous comments.

“Do you have your phone?” Lady Anne asked. She held her hand out, palm up. Still confused, Doug unlocked the screen and turned it over to her. It wasn’t like the king’s sister was going to steal it. She went into the browser and pulled up a web page before returning it to him.

Doug looked at a picture of himself looking down at a plate of hors d’oeuvres. Lady Anne gazed at him with such fondness that the headline sounded almost reasonable. “Lady Anne Brings Footballer Beau.” Of course the reality was that she had just finished kindly making fun of him for his disgust over the food, but that was not the story the newspaper was selling.

Doug looked up. “How did they get this written so fast?” The paper had Doug’s name, but also information on his convict father, his college, and his teams aborted run for the Superbowl two years ago. They made the final eight, which was the closest Doug had ever come to taking home a ring. 

Anne glanced toward Yves before saying softly, “The papers have always had great success at getting juicy gossip on the royal family.”

Yves lost all his color. He said slowly and with great malice, “I’m going to kill that bastard. It was him.”

Anne stood and put her hand on Yves’s shoulder. “We’re not going to do anything until your father has a chance to do a little damage control. In particular, we will not do anything to interrupt Mary’s reception. So sit down and remain calm.” She turned at looked at Doug. “Both of you sit and remain calm. Hagan and Duke Gerard and aware of this, and they simply need a little time to handle fallout.”

“And what are you going to do?” Yves demanded.

She sighed. “Sit and remain calm with you. Today is supposed to be about the grandeur and sense of history this family provides. It is a celebration, a sacred ceremony to heal wounds and welcome the new generation of egalitarian ideals as Mary chooses a commoner. So we will not fuck that up. Clear?” Her voice had enough of an edge to be a little scary.

“Clear,” Doug answered for both himself and Yves. If the other man wanted to go somewhere, Doug was big enough to sit on him, and as far as Doug was concerned, this was the perfect opportunity to prove that he wasn’t the sort of asshole who knowing associated with scum like Rudy. Well, technically he had associated with him, but if he’d thought Rudy would sell out Lady Anne and give the papers background info on Doug’s father, Doug would have happily flushed the man’s head in the nearest toilet. If he could find Rudy, he still might.