A smile tugged at Arthur’s lips. “You could try that line on me. See what happens.”
“Not in your wildest dreams.”
Arthur broke into a grin. “Ignore him,” he advised, reaching for his drink. “He could have been a reporter looking for a scoop.”
“Yeah, right,” Rory said, eyes narrowing. “No reporter would’ve been that into your cuff links. What a dick.”
Could he be sweeter or more frustrating, thinking Arthur needed protection from gold-diggers when Rory himself wouldn’t take a cent? “I could buy you cuff links.”
“What am I gonna do with cuff links?”
“Wear them, if you like? Or if you don’t, you could sell them, and use the money to, oh, say, find another room?” Without vermin, Arthur just stopped himself from saying. “Then again, if a different room could be a gift, let’s just skip the cuff links altogether.”
Rory rolled his eyes. “You make any progress with your brother’s problem?” he said, not even dignifying Arthur’s remark with a response. “Is there something I can scry that’ll help him?”
Was Arthur really supposed to just let his lover sleep with rats and roaches? Could he convince Rory to spend every night in his bed instead? Arthur would have liked nothing better, but there were doormen and security at every entrance to his building. Rory’s coming and going from Arthur’s apartment would not go unnoticed.
“No answers yet.” He swallowed. “But there is, ah, something else I should tell you.”
“Sure.” Rory motioned at the bartender, and the gold of the ring caught the light again.
Arthur eyed the ring for a moment. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. “It’s, ah, it’s not actually of immediate importance. I can tell you later.”
“Just tell me now.”
Arthur cleared his throat. “How’s the ankle?”
“I’m walking on it, but you’re changing the subject. What’d you want to tell me?”
“It’s about a man.”
Rory’s expression twitched.
“Right.” Arthur brought his drink to his lips. “We’ll just talk about it later.”
“No, no, I’m good.” Rory quickly folded his arms, shoving his balled fists under his armpits. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Arthur said dryly.
“Yes. Come on, Ace. Stop patronizing me.”
Arthur sighed. But it would be worse if he hid this. Rory would find out eventually. Better to get it out in the open before Wesley’s arrival in New York could do any harm. “John needs me to escort a guest to the governor’s son’s wedding this Saturday.”
Rory dropped his gaze to the bar counter. “Governor’s son, huh.”
“Not by choice, I promise.” Arthur hated how spineless the excuse sounded. “John needs the support for his next campaign, otherwise I wouldn’t—”
“S’all right, Ace.” Rory bit his lip. “I’m not gonna get mad at you ’bout family responsibilities I can’t be a part of.”
He accepted it so matter-of-factly that Arthur felt about an inch tall. Rory assumed he had no place in Arthur’s family’s world, but he’d still offered his help for John.
“So are you taking some doll?” Rory’s eyes were still on the counter.
“What? No,” Arthur sputtered. “I said this was about a man. I’m escorting a British aristocrat, ex-military like me. Lord Fine.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s not—wait.” Rory’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why do I know that name?”
Just spit it out. Him knowing about Wesley cannot be worse than him thinking you’re going with a girl. Arthur wet his lips. “Because he was the last man that I—well. The last man before—ah. Before...you.”
There was a moment of silence.
“He’s your ex?”
A gust of wind sliced through the club, glasses shattering on the floor, the drum set crashing to the ground in a clash of cymbals. Mack the bartender ducked as bottles of liquor flew off the shelves, soaking the bar in gin and whiskey.
Rory covered in his mouth, eyes wide with horror. “Oops,” he said helplessly, from behind his hands.
Arthur leapt to his feet. “Tell the Robbinses I will pay for all of this,” he told Mack, as he grabbed the still-frozen Rory by the back of his coat. “With me, come on, let’s go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Rory let Arthur steer him through the frigid night, to where his red Cadillac was parked in an alley two streets down. He went numbly into the passenger seat and drew his legs to his chest, sneakers on the seat, and hiding his face against his knees as Arthur climbed in the other side.
He didn’t look up as the engine roared to life. “I broke the whole club.”
“You exaggerate,” Arthur said lightly, pulling the car away from the curb. “I’m sure some of the tables survived.”
Rory groaned. “I’m gonna pay Jade back. I’ll work it off, I’d be great at bootlegging—”
“I’m just as responsible,” Arthur cut in. “I should have waited until we were at my place.”
“I don’t wanna wreck all your nice stuff either!” A gust of wind whistled outside the car, knocking a pair of trashcans to the street in a clatter. Rory took a sharp breath.
“That might not have been you,” Arthur said quickly. “It’s February in New York, it’s always ghastly.”
Rory put his hands on the back of his head, the ring cold and hard against his scalp.
Arthur gently cleared his throat. “Everything will be fine. We’ll find a way to get that ring off—”
“Getting the ring off isn’t gonna change your ex being a real fucking lord.”
“Well—no—but surely the ring is more pressing?”
Rory groaned again. It was, or it should’ve been, but hearing Arthur had last been with a man titled Lord Fine... Rory could still see Ellis looming over him at Coney Island, could still hear his mocking Southern drawl. I’m trying to figure out why Ace is slumming with you. I don’t care that Ace’s got a taste for men, but it used to be good taste.
“All your exes are classy like you, aren’t they?”
“Who’s made you think that?” Arthur said sharply.