Chapter 52: Dangerous Proximity

Darius didn’t budge. If anything, he leaned in even closer, if that was somehow possible. His thumb traced the sharp line of Basil’s jaw, sending another wave of heat crashing through Basil’s chest. ​"Not until you tell me," he murmured, his voice low and vibrating against Basil’s skin. "Why does ’my prince’ bother you so much? Is it because you hate it, or because you like it a little too much?"

Basil’s breath caught, his eyes widening as the accusation hit far too close to home. The tight space of the fitting room felt like an oven, the air thick with the scent of raw, unsaid desire. He gritted his teeth as he dug his heels into the carpet, forcing every ounce of strength into pushing against Darius’s broad chest once more.

"I said, let go," he snapped, his voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to keep it cold. "We are in a public boutique, for goodness sake. The attendant is right outside."

A slow smile tugged at Darius’s lips.

"Does that mean you wouldn’t mind if we were somewhere private?" he purred, his gaze dropping briefly to Basil’s lips before lifting back to meet his eyes. "Besides, we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just fixing a zipper."

His smile widened slightly. "Unless you want us to do more than just fix a zipper."

"You’re insane," Basil glared, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. Every point of contact between their bodies felt like it was burning through his clothes. "What the hell is wrong with you? Who was it that was desperate to build a brotherly relationship with me, or have you finally decided to stop pretending and show your true colors?"

"And who was it that kept pushing me away no matter how hard I tried?" Darius countered softly, his chest rising and falling heavily against Basil’s.

Basil glared fiercely up at him, his eyes burning with a mixture of fury and sheer panic as his hands remained pressed against Darius’s chest.

Darius’s smirk only widened at the fire in his prince’s eyes, his dark gaze tracking the intense flush creeping up Basil’s neck. "You know, I almost convinced myself you wanted absolutely nothing to do with me," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were almost brushing Basil’s ear. "That was until I realized you might want something else entirely."

Basil’s stomach dropped.

Darius watched him carefully.

"I think you might want something other than a brotherly relationship."

Basil went completely still, the air seeming to vanish from his lungs. He opened his mouth to deny it, to throw out another sharp insult, but every word he could think of died in his throat.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Darius’s mouth. "I’m right, aren’t I?" he asked softly.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Basil managed through clenched teeth. "Now get off me already."

Without warning, Basil drove his knee upward.

Darius jerked back with a curse, more from surprise than actual pain, and the opening was all Basil needed.

He immediately shoved past him, yanked open the fitting room door, and stormed out, his breathing ragged and his face burning red.

The attendant nearly jumped when he emerged.

"Pack everything!" Basil barked, his voice ringing harshly through the quiet VIP lounge as he addressed the startled attendant. "Fix whatever needs to be altered and have it delivered to the palace."

"Y-Your Highness—"

"I’ll handle the payment."

Before the poor man could respond, Basil was already striding across the lounge in a fury.

The attendant stood frozen for a moment, blinking after him. Slowly, his gaze drifted from Prince Basil’s retreating back to the half-open fitting room door.

A look of confusion crossed his face.

What in the world happened in there?

"Holy shit, I was right." Darius let out a breathless laugh as he leaned back against the fitting room wall, dropping his head against it with a soft thud.

"Fuck, he likes me."

He ran a hand through his hair.

The words felt unreal even as he said them.

He had been second-guessing himself for hours. Basil was notoriously impossible to read, a master at keeping his emotions locked behind an ice-cold, unbothered expression. For a while, Darius had genuinely thought he was misinterpreting things, brushing off the subtle shifts in Basil’s behavior as nothing more than wishful thinking. But the way Basil flushed whenever he called him my prince, the subtle hitch in his breath, and the sheer panic he tried so desperately to hide behind those lethal glares.

If there was one thing Darius prided himself on, it was his ability to read people, but Basil had been a puzzle from the very beginning. They had known each other for barely thirty-six hours, yet the attraction he felt for the other man was undeniable. Who would have thought he wasn’t the only one struggling with it? He had taken a gamble pulling Basil into the fitting room after spending hours mulling over why the man hated being called my prince. Darius needed to know whether the heat he felt was mutual or if he was completely out of his mind.

What he had not expected was for Basil to react so strongly to him, to be so thoroughly rattled by the physical proximity.

Fuck, this has to be the best day I’ve had in a long time. A dangerous, lingering warmth settled in Darius’s chest as a dark grin tugged at his lips.

This is going to be fun. He just needed to make Basil admit what he was feeling.

Things were moving faster than he had ever expected, not that he was complaining.

Then reality hit him.

Basil had stormed off in a haze of pure rage.

Knowing how petty and sharp-edged his royal brother could be, there was a very real possibility the man would hop into the car and drive back to the palace without him out of sheer spite.

"Shit." Darius shoved himself off the wall and yanked the fitting room door open.