William loved a hell of a lot of things about Monaco.

First, he loved the gambling. Second, he loved the architecture. Third, he loved the ocean. Fourth? He loved that everyone was filthy rich and generally stupid.

It really was a pity that the police were running him out of the country.

He stopped by Le Bar Américain, pausing in the doorway as he took in the classy, but clearly wildly expensive settings and interior design. This was one of the places that the filthy-rich people of Monte Carlo, Monaco’s premiere district, went to get drinks. William technically wasn’t rich enough to even breathe the air in there, but nobody had to know that. What mattered was that he looked just like the type of guy that they could pick up for the night. Between the repressed men and the powerful ones who thought they could get away with anything, Will could have his pick.

He sidled up to the bar, letting the bartender ignore him. He couldn’t pay for a drink anyway. He was depending on someone else to do that for him.

The guy over at the end of the bar looked like the perfect opportunity. For one thing, he was hot. Will was perfectly willing to admit that if he was going to do this, he wanted to do it with someone he’d actually enjoy. But more importantly, the guy looked to be about the same height as Will, had blond hair—although it was a bit lighter in color than Will’s, more of an ash blond compared to Will’s dirty blond—and similar facial structure.

Perfect.

Will slid into the seat next to the guy, and only then did he hold up a finger for a drink. “Whiskey, neat.” He glanced over at the guy, as if seeing him for the first time, then did a discreet double-take. The guy gave Will a quick once-over, cursory, like he just wanted to see what kind of person he was, but then Will saw the twitch at the corner of the man’s mouth as he looked down quickly.

Aha.

“Fancy a drink?” Will said, putting on his Queen’s English accent instead of his natural Chav one. The man twitched slightly at that. Will had to smother a grin. He didn’t understand why everyone had such a thing for British accents, but he wasn’t about to complain. “They say it’s not good to drink alone, after all.”

“Oh?” The man looked over at him, and seemed to really look this time, taking Will in. Will knew that his own suit was stolen and therefore not tailored like this guy’s suit was, but Will thought he still looked good in it all the same. Black was a classy color.

Will flashed him a lazy grin and looked up at him with hooded eyes, just enough innuendo in it to make it clear what he was suggesting but making it so that the guy could pretend he didn’t know what Will was getting at if he wanted to. He couldn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

This close, Will could see now that the guy had blue eyes, bright blue, the kind that made you stop and stare for a second. Will’s eyes were more ambiguous. Mum had always insisted they were green, which was fucking ridiculous, because a lot of times they were gray, and sometimes they were blue as well—it all seemed to depend on the day and the weather and whatever shirt he was wearing. But it would do well enough for an I.D.

The guy really was gorgeous. There was something standoffish about him, something lonely and aloof, that normally would make Will run the other way but now… it intrigued him.

“I’m Will, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand for the other man to shake. There was no point in using a fake name when he was going to be clearing out of the country soon.

“Patrick.” The man’s handshake was firm, the corner of his mouth twitching upward again. It was like he wanted to smile but wasn’t letting himself.

“Trying to relieve the stress from work?” Will asked, indicating the glass of alcohol in front of Patrick.

“Something like that. You?”

“Yeah, I could do with a few hours of not thinking about my problems,” Will conceded, which was partially true.

Patrick snorted. “You’re not all that subtle, are you?”

Will blinked, but recovered quickly. “Why waste time on subtlety?” he replied, giving Patrick the full effect of his grin. If blunt honesty was how he’d convince Patrick to take him to his hotel room, then he had no problem with that.

Patrick gave another almost-smile, and Will had to resist pumping his fist in the air in victory. “No, indeed.” He looked Will over once again, this time less assessing and more lingering. Will shifted on the bar seat, letting himself be watched. It sent a shiver of heat up his spine, to see the way Patrick’s eyes lingered on his form, as if he could see the muscle underneath the ill-fitting suit.

Will got daring and put his hand just on Patrick’s knee, just his fingertips, a touch that the other man could shrug off if he felt like it. He then downed his drink. He needed a little liquid courage for this—normally he wasn’t as bold so quickly. He liked to take his time and be sure before he started being, well, blatant, but time was something he didn’t have right now.

Patrick pulled out some cash and put it on the bar. “This’ll cover both of us,” he said. The barman nodded, and Patrick stood up, Will’s hand sliding from his knee as he did so.

“I have a room nearby,” Patrick said, his eyes lighting up and a smirk sliding across his face for a moment. “If you’d like.”

Will stood up as well, deliberately crowding a bit into Patrick’s space. “I’d like very much.”

He let Patrick lead the way, trying to keep the grin of triumph off his face. He was about to have fantastic sex with a gorgeous man and score his ticket out of the country. Not too shabby for a night’s work.