Chapter 32: Belated Birthday

Basil couldn’t decide which irritated him more, the possibility that Linda had lied to his face again, or the possibility that she had been telling the truth. If she was lying, then he would just have to find out what she was hiding, but if she was telling the truth, then it meant he truly had no way of escaping the royals. No family.

No convenient escape route.

The thought sat heavily in his chest as he climbed the stairs back toward the residential wing. What if there was really nowhere for him to belong except here? Did that mean he had to stay in this palace, trapped under the same roof with that unpredictable lunatic?

Oh, God. No. He couldn’t even begin to think about that possibility without feeling a headache coming on. He refused to accept it.

There had to be something Linda wasn’t saying, something she had intentionally buried under those fake tears. A woman who had managed to hide a crime of that magnitude for twenty-one years wasn’t suddenly going to become honest overnight. There was no reason to believe she had suddenly developed a conscience now. So he would make sure to dig up every secret she was still hiding, whether she liked it or not.

By the time he reached his door, he was already mentally listing the names of reputable private investigators he could hire.

Only to see the last person he wanted to see right now standing directly outside his room.

Basil’s stomach dropped all the way to his feet. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Darius was leaning casually against the wall beside the door, one ankle crossed over the other, one hand tucked into his pocket as though he had all the time in the world. In his other hand, he held a sleek, square box wrapped in cream-colored paper and tied with a crisp silk ribbon, the sort used by expensive bakeries and dessert shops.

The sight of him instantly dragged several highly unwelcome memories to the surface.

The filthy dream. The freezing shower. The embarrassingly frantic handjob.

Heat rushed straight to Basil’s face. To his absolute horror, he felt his body threatening to react all over again, making him feel as though his soul were attempting to leave his body right then and there. He cursed under his breath. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him?

Darius straightened the moment he spotted him. A smile immediately appeared on his face. "You’re back."

Basil immediately considered turning around and walking right back down to the holding cells. Anything felt safer than standing in this hallway with Darius watching him like a predator that had already decided where its next meal was coming from.

Taking a cautious, measured breath, Basil stopped a few feet away and fixed Darius with a flat stare. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice clipped, laced with every ounce of cold detachment he could muster.

Darius’s smile widened instantly, as though Basil had just asked the exact question he had been hoping for.

"I brought cake," he said, lifting the package as if presenting a rare treasure.

Basil blinked. For a moment, he genuinely thought he had misheard.

"You brought... cake?"

"Yes." Darius nodded. "Cake."

Basil stared at the box, then back at Darius, then back at the box again.

"Why on earth would you bring me cake?"

Darius looked offended.

"Who said I brought it for you?"

Basil frowned. "What?"

"I brought it for us."

Basil’s confusion deepened.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Darius’s smile returned in full force. "We’re going to celebrate our birthdays together." He shaked the box slightly. "I wish I could throw a huge party for us, but there’s always next year. For now, we’ll have to settle for this."

Basil simply stared at him.

Darius seemed completely oblivious to how insane he sounded. "I’ve never celebrated a birthday before," he continued. "The date they gave me at the orphanage might not have even been my real birthday, so there was never much point." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "But now I do know when I was born. And it turns out you and I share the same birthday."

His smile widened further.

"So we’re going to be celebrating it together until death do us apart."

The fuck is he talking about?

Basil stared at him. Celebrating birthdays together until death did them apart sounded less like something brothers said and more like wedding vows.

His gaze hardened immediately.

"I’m not in the mood to celebrate anything," he said, his voice dropping into a tired, bitter rasp. "Besides, you’re three weeks late. The so-called birthday was nearly a month ago."

"There’s a thing called a belated birthday, you know," he countered with a shrug. He tilted his head with an easy, infuriating charm that made Basil’s chest tighten.

"I’m not interested," Basil said flatly.

He brushed past Darius, the heat radiating off the larger man’s body making his skin prickle. He unlocked his door and pushed it open.

Then he immediately noticed Darius following him inside. Basil stopped in the doorway and turned sharply. "What are you doing?"

Darius paused. Then, to Basil’s disbelief, he actually pouted, his lower lip pushing out into an exaggerated sulk that looked utterly ridiculous on a man built like a fortress.

"Please, big brother?" he said. "Indulge your little brother just this once."

"There is nothing little about you," Basil snapped, his eyes darting over Darius’s broad shoulders, thick chest, and towering height.

Darius gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as though he had just suffered a devastating insult. "Are you kidding me?"

He immediately sucked in his stomach, hunched his shoulders, slumped his posture, and attempted to make himself look smaller.

"Just look at how small and harmless I am," he whined, blinking up at Basil through his dark lashes with mock innocence. "I’m such a good, tiny, fragile, sweet little brother. Please don’t break my heart."

Basil raised an eyebrow, his jaw clenching tightly as he forced down the sudden, betraying urge to laugh. He fought the warmth creeping into his cheeks, staring at Darius with a mixture of disbelief and utter exhaustion.

Why was Darius doing this?

Why couldn’t he just leave him alone?

Basil knew he had spent twenty-one years living a life that should have belonged to Darius, but he had never asked for any of it. He had been just as much a victim as anyone else. So why did Darius insist on tormenting him with this strange, overwhelming mix of lethal threats and absurd, playful affection?