Royce stood in the bedroom doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand, admiring the strong line of Marc’s back and the enticing hint of the curve of one cotton-covered ass cheek peeking out from under the twisted down duvet. His arms were shoved up under the pillows, and his face was smashed against the mattress.

Marc was an incredibly restless sleeper. Throughout the night, Royce could hear him twitching, shifting, flipping over again and again. By morning, half the pillows were on the floor, and the blankets were a tangled mess. It was as if he fought all his demons while he slept.

It worked for him, though, because he rose each morning looking refreshed and ready to tackle the day.

Except for Saturday.

On Saturday morning, Marc slept in late—as if he were trying to catch up on all the rest he missed during the week. He would drag out of bed, skipping the lounge pants that he’d given up sleeping in since they’d had sex, and stumble to the kitchen for that first cup of coffee. It was only when the caffeine started to hit his system that he’d remember the need for pants, but usually only after flashing Royce a cheeky smile. Sure, they’d agreed to let things happen naturally, but Marc had taken up the approach of trying to gently nudge them back into bed together. Not that Royce minded. This teasing, playful side of Marc was just as addictive as his lips.

After Marc was dressed, the rest of the day would likely be spent running errands, cleaning around the house, and something low-key.

It would be their third Saturday together, and Royce found himself looking forward to the day. It was the one time out of the week that Marc unplugged completely from work and even avoided his family. And as those two things fell away, Royce got to see a little more of the man he really was when he wasn’t trying to live up to something Royce couldn’t yet put a name to.

But right now, all he could think about was crawling up Marc and pinning his shoulders to the mattress before licking along that sexy curve of his back. He’d hold him there until he was moaning and humping the mattress for relief. Then he’d flip him over and suck his cock down to the back of his throat.

Other than fucking that one night after the gallery show, they’d kept their distance—except for when they were “on” in front of his family and friends. That didn’t mean the need wasn’t still there. It was like a living, breathing thing under his skin, begging to get out. He craved Marc’s taste, the feel of his skin against his own. He loved how Marc trusted him so completely, handing over all control.

What worried him was that it wasn’t just the sex that kept him needing to be as close as possible to Marc. When they were alone at home, Marc could easily talk about nearly anything, drawing Royce into conversations where he normally wouldn’t speak. Their evenings were often spent watching movies up in the private theater or playing pool. Something Marc was incredibly bad at. He’d admitted one night that he’d gotten the pool table simply to fill the space and for the entertainment of his guests. Royce had taken obscene pleasure in giving Marc pointers so that he wasn’t utterly lost, while giving himself an excuse to hover closely as Marc lined up his shot.

Two weeks on the same job with no breaks, and Royce had never felt so comfortable around a client. Marc’s every action seemed to make Royce feel as if he simply belonged in his life. He never asked about Royce’s past, never asked uncomfortable questions like too many people in his life.

Of course, Royce hadn’t asked about Marc’s past, and there were pieces he was starting to wonder about. Like how was someone as amazing and smart as Marc single? Or what had happened to make Rowe dislike him so much?

Marc’s low groan made him focus on the bed again. The other man rolled over and rubbed his face before he looked at Royce. “Is that for me?”

“Nope,” Royce said before taking a deep drink.

“Ugh. Then go away.”

“It’s almost eleven. Time to get up. You can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Yes, I can. Come over here and let me show you how.”

“Nope.” Royce turned and strolled back toward the kitchen before he gave in to the temptation.

“You’re losing points from your awesome boyfriend rating,” Marc called after him. It was only because his back was to Marc that he allowed the smile that crossed his face.

Putting his mug on the center island, he turned to grab one out of the cabinet for Marc. He’d stretch and grumble, then finally get out of bed and shuffle to the kitchen for coffee. God, he hoped the man put on pants. He had great muscular legs and a wicked-tight ass. There was only so much temptation he could take.

His cell phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans. He reached for it, and his heart skipped a beat. His mother never called him while he was on a job unless it was an emergency. He’d checked in with her just before meeting Marc for the first time. He’d called her once more last week, and she’d said that everything was fine. She’d even sounded good, stronger than she had in a while.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?” he said. He quickly left the kitchen and cut down the hall toward the library so that Marc couldn’t overhear his conversation. If he stuck to his routine, he’d linger in the breakfast area with his coffee, skimming the news headlines before wandering off for a shower.

“It’s good to hear your voice, nephew.”

Royce froze midstep in the hall at the rough and ragged male voice that came from the phone.

“Who is this?”

“Now that hurts. I can’t believe you don’t recognize your Uncle Corbin.”

Royce reached out and pressed his hand against the wall to steady himself as the shock made him dizzy. His fucking uncle. The head of the Karras crime family back in New York. He closed his eyes against the deluge of anger and old memories that threatened to swamp him. After the death of his father and younger brother, Royce’s mother had quickly pulled him out of New York, taking them to Virginia so that he could never again be touched by his father’s family. And in over two decades, this was the first he’d heard directly from them.

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to talk to your uncle? If your damn mother hadn’t stolen you away from us, you would have learned some manners.”

“What have you done with her? Let me talk to her.” Shoving away from the wall, he stalked down the hallway and into the library as he heard the first sounds of Marc moving around. The timing was so damn bad, but he needed to know that his mother was okay.

“Your mother is just fine. I dropped into Cincinnati to have a little visit with you, and I thought I’d check on my sister-in-law, Cathy.”

“Leave my mother alone. You want me, you deal with me.” Royce ducked into the library, his footsteps muffled on the thick carpet. He paced the room, walking along the wall of books carefully arranged on dark wood shelves.

“Oh, you’re exactly who I want. You will meet me for lunch at Café Mediterranean. You know it?”

“I know it, but I’m on a job. I can’t leave. I need—”

“Then I’ve got another option for you. I’ll leave your cousin Nick here with your mother and I’ll come to see you. Or maybe I’ll visit that new boyfriend of yours I saw on the Internet, Mr. Costas.”

Royce swore softly and tightly clenched his fingers around his phone. He couldn’t leave Marc home alone, and he definitely couldn’t take him along. He also couldn’t easily substitute another bodyguard to pretend to be Marc’s boyfriend. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! But he definitely wasn’t leaving his mother alone in the hands of his uncle and cousin.

“One o’clock at Café Mediterranean,” Royce snarled. He had a fix, but Marc wasn’t going to like it. Unfortunately, Royce just didn’t give a shit what Marc wanted. His mother came first.

Corbin chuckled low in his ear. “That’s a good boy.”

Royce ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket before he gave in to the temptation to smash it against the wall. “Marc! We’ve got to get moving now!” he bellowed, his deep voice bouncing off the high walls as he marched toward the kitchen. This was not how he’d wanted to spend the day.

* * *

Marc pushed away from his laptop and paced to the wall of windows looking out on the in-ground pool and swath of woods surrounding Geoffrey’s house. Geoffrey wasn’t even there—he was over at his sort-of sister-in-law’s house for a family lunch with his boyfriend, Sven.

From the moment Royce had maneuvered him back into the bedroom to get showered and dressed in less than ten minutes, the man had been on the phone searching for another bodyguard to cover Marc and a place to hide him that wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.

Said babysitter was lounging on the couch behind him, playing on his phone.

Dominic Walsh seemed like an okay guy with an easy, charming smile and fiery red hair that likely hinted at a temper to match.

But Marc didn’t want to think about Dom. He wanted to know what was going on with Royce. While usually reticent, Marc could get him to talk. But he’d gotten barely two words out of Royce before he was shoved into the car and driven to Geoffrey’s, where he was dumped on the doorstep like unwanted trash.

“Family emergency.”

That was all Royce snarled at him. He wouldn’t entertain any of Marc’s suggestions to help or allow him to come along. He didn’t say anything.

Stiffening his spine, Marc followed Dom into the house and immediately set up his laptop with the idea of trying to work through some emails. Saturday was supposed to be his one day of rest and relaxation. The one day that he didn’t think about work, in an effort to recharge his batteries, but he couldn’t run errands or do his usual things with Dom trailing behind him. It raised too many questions.

He couldn’t work either. The emails were annoying, and the new artist he was starting to research created just blurs of color. He couldn’t concentrate. Not when Royce was dealing with some family emergency, and there was nothing he could do to help.

The encounter was also a major wake-up call. He didn’t know anything about Royce. He knew Royce had a mom, but that was about it. Did he have siblings? Had he grown up around aunts, uncles, and cousins?

Two weeks of pretending to be dating, living in their cozy little bubble had left Marc buying into the illusion. He’d started to believe the lies that he’d met this guy and that they got along on so many wonderful levels. That Royce cared about whether he was eating properly and whether he was sleeping at night. Marc had shifted his own diet to include more fish and vegetables to suit Royce. They worked out together and had the same taste in movies.

It didn’t feel fake. The kissing and touches and the fucking sex didn’t feel faked. The laughs when they were alone and long conversations over shared bowls of popcorn while watching movies had all felt real. Their soft talks after they turned off the light at night that left him wishing every time that Royce would just crawl into bed with him.

He couldn’t silence the sigh that slipped from his lips as he pulled out his phone and checked, but he knew there were no messages from Royce. It was nearly one in the afternoon. He didn’t know where Royce had gone or what was going on. He’d overheard from Royce’s conversation with Dominic that he was expecting to be out for only a few hours.

“You wanna watch a movie? Geoffrey’s got a pretty sweet setup on the second floor,” Dom offered.

“No, thank you,” he murmured, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Royce can handle himself.”

Marc glanced over his shoulder to find that Dom had lowered his phone and was now watching him. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah. Royce is good.”

Yeah, Royce was good at what he did. Marc never doubted that. He felt safe whenever the man was around. Strong. Always in control of any situation, even when they’d been surprised by the fire alarm the night of the gallery showing.

And maybe things had started out fake, but it didn’t mean that everything that had been said or done between them was. When Marc’s life returned to some semblance of normal, they could try to build something from what had already started between them. Geoffrey and Sven were proof of that. So were Andrei and Lucas. It was clichéd as hell, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t real. What did it matter how they first met? The important thing was what happened during the time they spent together.

“Is Royce single?” Marc suddenly demanded before he could convince himself to keep his mouth shut. He really hoped that Royce was. The man didn’t seem the type to cheat, but he could be in an open relationship with someone.

Marc turned completely around to find Dominic staring at him with his mouth hanging open in shock. “Seriously? I mean, I saw you guys at the gallery, and I thought you put on a damn good show, but really? Royce?”

“What? Why are you so surprised?”

“Royce is good at what he does, but he’s not so great with the social skills, if you get my meaning.” Dominic winked, but Marc just continued to stare at him. Sure, Royce didn’t talk a lot, and he tended to glare more than smile, but it just meant that the man wasn’t filling the air with a lot of useless chatter. When he did speak, you knew it was something important.

Dominic was his exact opposite. The man was happy to talk about nothing at all—as if he just liked the sound of his voice. He was entertaining and boisterous, giving off a harmless vibe despite his size.

“Most clients are happy for his expertise but glad to be rid of him at the end.” Dominic paused and scratched his chin. “You’ve got to be the first to ask if he’s single.”

“I’m sure there were others he worked for…”

“Nope. Really doubtful.”

Marc just grunted and walked back over to where he had his laptop on the dining room table. Maybe it was best that Royce didn’t have a lot of former clients chasing after him. He’d enjoyed their time together, knew it couldn’t all be because of Marc’s case. There was something there. As he sat down, Dom jumped to his feet and crossed to the dining room table. He leaned his forearms on the back of the chair across from him, his green eyes intently staring.

“Are you thinking of pulling a Geoffrey?”

“What?” Marc’s head snapped up, wiping all thoughts of work from his brain.

“Geoffrey pursued Sven for months before he hired him to help with his case. The constant contact wore poor Sven down,” Dom said with a shake of his head.

“Sven doesn’t look so poor and unhappy with Geoffrey.”

Dom cackled, straightening so that he was holding the back of the chair. “Sven is on cloud nine with the G-man, but if you’re looking for the same kind of thing with Royce, I think you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Why?”

Dom shrugged and looked uncomfortable for the first time. “Royce isn’t the dating type. I’ve known him for a couple of years now. He doesn’t talk about himself, but I’ve never gotten the impression that he dates. Or has fun. Not much into laughing either.”

“So, it’s not just because I’m a client? He doesn’t talk to anyone?”

“The only person I’ve seen him talk to is Quinn. Treats him like a little brother.” Dom shifted and lifted one eyebrow at Marc. “But don’t think you can get any information out of Quinn. He’s super protective of Royce.”

Marc closed his laptop with a sharp snap and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t want you or anyone else to tell me about Royce. I want Royce to share things with me because he trusts me. I have to earn it. And maybe he won’t ever want to date me. Maybe he’ll only ever see me as a client. That’s fine. But I’d at least like to get a shot. Spend some time with him when he isn’t required to be with me.”

“That’s cool. You seem like a nice guy. I just don’t want you to get hurt hoping for some roses and happily ever after with Royce. I…I just don’t think he’s into that kind of thing.”

“Not everyone is,” Marc murmured to himself. His own experiences hadn’t given him any glimpses at a happily ever after or even a happily for now. If he had any sense, he would listen to the hint that Dom was trying to politely give him and put these hopes aside.

And maybe Dom was right…for now.

His main concern was Royce and making sure that everything was okay with him and his family. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish that when Royce was determined to keep him at arm’s length.