Chapter 136: Weaknesses

Chapter 136: Chapter 136: Weaknesses

A week later, Sebastian had learned that giving Nero regular access to him had created an entirely different problem.

The man had become opportunistic.

Not reckless enough to ignore Roberta’s restrictions, and certainly not careless with Sebastian’s body, but opportunistic in the sense that any sufficiently private room, locked door, suggestive look, or prolonged moment of physical contact appeared to register in Nero’s mind as a potential invitation.

Sebastian had discovered this in the library.

Twice.

Once in the dressing room.

Once against the edge of Nero’s desk until Sebastian reminded him, with considerable laughter, that the desk remained on Roberta’s list of surfaces she would prefer they stop treating as recreational equipment.

Nero had argued that she had specifically complained about the window.

Sebastian had told him that attempting legal interpretation during seduction was deeply unattractive.

Nero had proved otherwise approximately thirty seconds later.

The truly amusing part was how easy he had become to manage.

For seven years Sebastian had regarded Nero as something between a political hazard and a beautifully dressed natural disaster. Now he knew that dragging two fingers slowly beneath Nero’s jaw could derail whatever argument the Crown Prince had prepared, praise delivered at the correct moment could destroy entire trains of thought, and casually sitting across Nero’s lap while reading correspondence almost guaranteed that no correspondence would be read for several minutes afterward.

The discovery was too useful not to abuse.

Sebastian did so frequently.

Nero appeared delighted to be victimized.

Melanie arrived in Altera on Monday morning.

Sebastian met her in the administrative wing attached to his new household offices, where three rooms had already been cleared for his staff and another suite converted into secure communications space connected directly to Fitzgeralt.

Melanie entered carrying a tablet, two folders, and the expression of a woman who had spent the previous day moving countries and already regretted allowing anyone to know she was competent.

Her dark traveling coat had barely come off before she placed the first folder on Sebastian’s desk.

"Irene says you have forgotten Fitzgeralt exists."

Sebastian looked up from the schedule she had transmitted before arriving.

"I spoke to Irene four days ago."

"She considers that abandonment."

"And Timi?"

"Worse."

Sebastian smiled.

Irene and Timi had served as his seconds in Fitzgeralt long enough to have stopped treating his title with any useful degree of reverence, which was precisely why he trusted both of them.

"They could visit."

Melanie sat opposite him. "They said the same thing about you."

"That would require me to survive the wedding schedule Nero’s staff built."

"I reviewed it."

Sebastian waited.

Melanie’s expression became grim.

"I will be fixing it."

"Excellent."

That alone justified the relocation package.

Duncan’s expanded role became equally apparent over the following days.

Whenever Nero disappeared into government meetings, Duncan appeared somewhere within Sebastian’s orbit instead, usually close enough to intervene if necessary and far enough away to pretend he was not listening when Sebastian complained about royal administration.

Sebastian discovered his weaknesses almost as quickly as Nero’s.

Duncan hated mint tea.

He disliked being thanked publicly.

He possessed a profound intolerance for people touching the clasp at the throat of his uniform.

And, most importantly, he was incapable of ignoring something placed slightly out of alignment.

Sebastian learned the last detail by accident.

After that, it became sport.

He shifted one folder half an inch sideways on a side table and watched Duncan stare at it for nearly twenty seconds before correcting it.

The next day, Sebastian rotated a decorative bowl so the painted pattern faced the wall.

Duncan fixed it while discussing security access without missing a word.

By Thursday, Sebastian had moved one chair slightly out of formation before Duncan entered.

Duncan stopped in the doorway.

Sebastian looked up from his tablet.

"What?"

Duncan stared at the chair.

Then at Sebastian.

"You’re doing this deliberately."

"I have no idea what you mean."

Duncan crossed the room and corrected it.

Sebastian smiled.

"You are becoming as bad as His Highness."

"That is insulting."

"It was intended to be."

Sebastian laughed.

Life in Saha was settling around him more easily than he had expected.

Melanie occupied the office adjoining his by the end of the week. Duncan learned his new routes through the palace. Fitzgeralt communications remained open enough that Sebastian could work there without feeling detached from the grand duchy he would eventually inherit.

And Nero continued coming home to him.

That Friday, he returned after nine.

Sebastian heard the suite doors before he saw him.

The bedroom sitting area had been left dim, only two lamps burning beside the sofa while Sebastian reviewed one of Irene’s reports in loose charcoal trousers and a pale green shirt. He had abandoned his shoes hours earlier, one foot tucked beneath his opposite leg as he read.

Nero entered without his jacket.

That alone was enough to announce the day had gone badly.

His suit beneath had been a warm slate-blue, paired with a cream shirt and narrow bronze tie that now hung loose beneath an open collar. His white-blond hair remained tied back, though several strands had escaped near his temples, and exhaustion had sharpened the lines around his eyes.

Sebastian lowered the tablet.

"Bad?"

Nero walked toward him.

"Idiots."

"That specific?"

"Three ministries, two committees, and an ambassador who believes deadlines are a philosophical concept."

Sebastian smiled.

Nero did not.

That was unusual enough that Sebastian stood.

Nero stopped directly in front of him, shoulders still rigid beneath the tailored blue fabric.

Sebastian lifted one hand and touched his face. His palm settled against Nero’s cheek, thumb brushing once beneath his eye.

Nero’s entire expression changed.

Sebastian felt it happen beneath his hand.

The tension in Nero’s jaw loosened. His eyes closed for half a second, and when they opened again, whatever argument he had apparently been carrying home had vanished somewhere between Sebastian’s thumb and his cheekbone.

Sebastian stared.

Nero leaned into the touch.

Sebastian brushed his thumb across his cheek again.

Nero’s hand closed around Sebastian’s wrist, though only to keep his palm exactly where it was.

"You have another weakness."

Nero opened his eyes.

Sebastian smiled.

"I’m collecting them."

"You already have too many."

"That sounds like fear."

"It is self-preservation."

Sebastian laughed quietly and traced his thumb along Nero’s cheekbone.

Then the room disappeared.

Sunlight replaced lamplight.

Nero’s hair was shorter beneath Sebastian’s hand, brushing his shoulders rather than falling down his back, and he was wearing white formal robes embroidered heavily in purple and gold.

Sebastian knew the room.

He had never seen it before.

Nero turned his face into Sebastian’s palm with the same unconscious movement he had just made in the present.

"You always do that when I’m angry," he murmured.

Sebastian heard himself answer.

"Because it works."

Nero smiled.

There was a ring on his hand. A wedding band.

The image broke.

Sebastian blinked.

The suite returned around him.

Nero was still holding his wrist.

Still watching him. But his expression had changed completely.

He knew.

Sebastian had learned by now that whatever happened to his face during those moments was visible enough that Nero recognized it instantly.

Neither moved.

Then Nero’s voice came out quieter.

"You saw something."

Sebastian looked at him.

Nero waited.

For once, there was no joke in his eyes and no attempt to pretend he had not noticed.

"What was it?"