Royally Screwed - Lynn Van Dorn Page 0,53
long ago, an enraged Yuri coming to him and demanding to be “fixed.” Angelo had half a mind to rush over to Oxford and demand the same from Yuri.
Angelo: I think you’ve broken me, you bastard
Yuri: come again?
Angelo: that’s the whole problem
Yuri: OH.
Yuri: I am good at what I do
Angelo: fucking brat
Yuri: I just have pride in my accomplishments. You’re thirsty for me.
Yuri: aren’t you?
Yuri: admit it
Angelo: no
Angelo: maybe a little
Angelo: it’s been a long time, that’s all.
Yuri: HA!!!!! Called it!
Angelo: You need your arse spanked, brat
Yuri: I DO. Yes. That. Do that.
Yuri: then I’ll suck your cock again. Will that fix you?
Angelo: probably not
Yuri: COME ON MY MOUTH IS MAGICAL
Angelo: hm
Yuri: ADMIT IT
Yuri: ADMIT IT NOW OR NO BJS FOR YOU
Angelo: I went 23 years without your magic mouth. I’ll live
Yuri: I thought you were broken. Unless you need me to translate something, discuss philosophy, sociology, or politics, or trace the geneology of the Mirean royal family, I’m pretty sure you need my mouth.
Angelo: it’s genealogy, genius.
Yuri: fuck you
Angelo: now that’s the boy I know and love
Yuri: …
Angelo: You know what I mean
Yuri: yeah, I know
Yuri: unfortunately
Yuri: what do you want fixed, anyway?
Angelo: I don’t know
Yuri: then how am I supposed to fix you?
Angelo: I don’t know
Yuri: what DO you know?
Angelo: anymore, not a goddamned thing.
Yuri: I could still suck your dick. That might help
Yuri: if nothing else, it might help me
Angelo: I’ll get back to you on that.
Yuri: that’s not a no
“Hey, mate. I’ve been volunteered to come in and ask what the hell crawled up into your arse and died.”
Angelo looked up. He’d been making a cup of tea in the lounge at work and hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings much. Or at all. Chris had snuck up on him, completely unnoticed. If his security knew, they’d be furious.
He’d promised to be sensible and safe at work, so his security detail agreed to stay out of his way while he was there. They were on-site but hidden away in a small conference room Angelo’s employer had agreed to sacrifice to the cause. Angelo knew Roger would be disappointed that he’d allowed someone to come up behind him, unawares. It was the sort of shit Yuri did, not him, and that was not a helpful thought at all.
“Personal business, Chris. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Chris grunted. “Well, handle it better, then. Just a friendly word of warning. No one wants to sack the prince, but they’ll do it if you continue to snarl at everyone around you all the time.” Chris grinned at him, then. “Maybe you need to get laid.”
The whistle of the kettle startled them both. Angelo poured hot water over the teabag in his mug, then went in the small fridge looking for milk. “Maybe.”
“Whatever you need, do it this weekend. The entire office would be willing to chip in on a fund to buy you a sex worker if you can’t seal the deal on your own.”
“Fuck you, Chris.”
“Just come back to work on Monday in a better mood, right?”
Angelo shut his eyes. “Right. I will.”
After work, Angelo went outside with Roger to get in the car Trevor had brought around. Once in, Trevor looked over his shoulder to ask if Angelo wanted to go straight home, or if he needed to stop somewhere first.
Angelo opened his mouth to say that home was fine, but instead what came out was, “Take me to Paddington. I want to go to Oxford.”
Both Trevor and Rodger stared at him with identical “have you gone utterly mad?” expressions on their faces.
“Your highness?” Trevor ventured.
“Why?” Roger added. “We’re already in a perfectly good Mercedes capable of driving to Oxford. Why on earth would you want to take the train?”
“Because there’s no need to drag both of you with me. It’s not like I’m recognizable. If I take the train, I’m yet another boring businessman commuting home for the evening.”
Roger and Trevor exchanged silent communication. “Which one of us comes with you? Because you know we won’t let you go alone.”
“Right, naturally. Roger can come with me and Trevor can take the car home.”
“Yes, sir,” Trevor said. He faced forward and began to drive. Roger observed Angelo for a bit longer, then he, too, turned and sat looking out of the windscreen.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, boss,” Roger said. “There’s only so much I can do to keep your royal arse out of trouble.”
“I know. And I think I know what I’m doing.” Probably. Maybe.
“I sure as