Just a Bit Wicked (Straight Guys Book 7) Read online

  “I will,” Roman replied.

  Luke lifted his head and smiled a little sadly at Roman. For all the dislike Vlad felt for the kid, he knew Luke Whitford was far from stupid. After all, Luke’s own father had been killed during a “business” trip similar to what Roman was leaving for.

  Luke ran his hand up Roman’s chest and adjusted his tie a little. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll be very, very mad,” he said with a crooked smile before tugging Roman’s face down by his tie and pressing their lips together.

  Vlad looked away.

  After about half a minute, the sounds of kissing finally stopped with a wet sound.

  “I have a flight to catch, Curly,” Roman said, stepping away from Luke.

  Luke said nothing, wrapping his arms around himself.

  Roman looked at him for a long moment before shifting his gaze to Vlad. “Something happens to him, you’re responsible for that. You’re to accompany him everywhere, no exception.”

  “I don’t need him at the engagement party tomorrow,” Luke cut in.

  “No exception,” Roman repeated, meeting the glare Luke sent his way. “I’m serious, Luke.”

  Luke just glared harder.

  Roman smiled a little, the coldness in his eyes disappearing, before tugging the boy close and kissing him hard, greedy and possessive. “Behave while I’m gone,” he said hoarsely. “Be a good boy for me.”

  Luke’s eyes glazed over. Vlad didn’t even want to know.

  With a curt nod at Vlad, Roman was gone.

  An awkward silence descended upon the room.

  He and Luke stared at each other.

  Vlad had never liked the kid. He was too pretty, too innocent-looking, too...gay. His flamboyance grated on Vlad’s nerves.

  “You really don’t have to accompany me to the engagement party tomorrow,” Luke said at last. “I don’t want you to. It’d be awkward as hell. I mean, I’m used to your homophobic slurs, but I don’t want you to offend the hosts.”

  Vlad frowned. “You mean...”

  “Yeah, the people that are getting engaged are gay,” Luke said and looked Vlad in the eye, as if daring Vlad to say something mean. “Maybe you’ve heard about Tristan DuVal?”

  Of course he had. It wasn’t every day a football player of Tristan’s caliber came out. “Yeah. He’s a former Chelsea player who recently admitted he was a faggot.”

  Luke shook his head. “You aren’t going to the party unless you promise not to ruin their day by being rude and homophobic.”

  Vlad rolled his eyes. “I can restrain myself. I restrained myself a few minutes ago, didn’t I?”

  “Did you? I must have imagined the disgusted look on your face.”

  Vlad said nothing.

  Luke heaved a sigh. “Look, I know you don’t like me. I don’t like you, either, so let’s make a deal, yeah? You don’t have to stick around when it’s not necessary. Roman’s out of the country. He won’t find out.”

  Vlad snorted. “I don’t have a death wish, kid. He told me to follow you everywhere. I’ll follow you everywhere. I don’t have to like you to keep you safe.”

  Luke raised his eyebrows. “Are you scared of him?”

  “Yes,” Vlad said bluntly. If the boy had seen the extent of what Roman was capable of, he wouldn’t have even asked. Being wary of Roman was smart. A leopard couldn’t change its spots no matter how hard it was working to cover them up. “And you’re an idiot not to, no matter how good you are at sucking his dick. He isn’t a faggot. He’ll come to his senses soon.”

  Luke blinked. “Every time I start thinking I can tolerate you, you prove me wrong.” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes curious. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you have some latent feelings for me or Roman.”

  Vlad stared at him. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

  Luke shook his head and walked out of the kitchen.

  Vlad gritted his teeth and followed him. “You don’t get to say stupid shit like that and then ignore me.”

  “You’re right: it’s stupid,” Luke murmured. “I’m pretty sure you don’t actually have feelings for either of us—just a lot of repressed gay feelings in general.”

  Vlad clenched his fists and didn’t think of a certain hotel room and a wet mouth around his dick. “I’m not a homo. I don’t have any ‘repressed gay feelings.’ It’s pathetic how you gay people see gayness everywhere.”

  Luke smiled a little, shaking his head. “Whatever. Anyway, Tristan DuVal is the only publicly out football star in the world. Although he doesn’t play anymore, he’s still famous and his coming out is a big deal for us all, so I’m sure there will be lots of members of the LGBT community at the party. Either you behave, or you aren’t going. It’s as simple as that. Tristan is my best friend’s brother. I can’t, and won’t, let you ruin the evening.”

  “I’ll keep my opinions to myself,” Vlad said, frowning thoughtfully. If there were going to be many prominent gay people at the party, it was very likely to be targeted by the cult. He had to be there, regardless of his distaste. He was a professional, first and foremost.

  The wariness in Luke’s eyes didn’t disappear. “We’ll see,” he said softly. “The party is tomorrow at six in the evening. Don’t be late.”

  Vlad stared at him. “I’m not going anywhere. Didn’t Roman tell you I was going to stay here?”

  Luke’s eyes widened. “What—?” He cut himself off and sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. Follow me, then. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Judging by the tense set of Luke’s shoulders, Roman had a hell of a fight coming his way.

  Vlad wasn’t concerned. He wasn’t there to be liked and make friends. He was there to do his job.

  “And Vlad?” Luke said, his voice very soft. “I don’t care about your views, but I won’t tolerate any homophobic slurs toward my friends. Give me one reason and I’ll fire you, regardless of what Roman says. If I don’t feel comfortable around you, I’m not going to put up with you. There’s enough hate toward us; I won’t tolerate it in my own home. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Vlad said. The kid had a spine, he’d give him that. He could respect it.

  Chapter 4

  Sebastian was so, so late.

  “Dammit, Hermione!” he said, trying to instill some authority into his voice. “Come down this instant.”

  His cat didn’t move an inch.

  “Come on, girl,” he pleaded, glancing at his watch. He was so fucking late. “Come down, princess. Please. I know you can.” At least no one could see him begging his cat. A perk of living alone.

  Hermione didn’t move, still meowing pathetically from her spot on top of the wardrobe. Sebastian sighed, brushing his fingers over his carefully styled hair. He didn’t want to leave her up there. He would likely be gone till the next morning and he wasn’t confident in her ability to get down while he was out. It wouldn’t be the first time his cat had climbed on something and then couldn’t get down. Sebastian loved Hermione, he did, but he wasn’t blind to her flaws. She was kind of...not very smart, truth be told. His sister, Julia, always cracked up and called him an idiot for naming the “dumbest cat in existence” after one of the smartest fictional characters. To be fair to him, he couldn’t exactly tell how smart she was—or wasn’t—when Hermione had been a kitten.

  “All right,” he said with a sigh, glancing at his watch again. He was already fifteen minutes late. “It’s your own fault,” he said, reaching for the broom.

  Half an hour later, after getting his cat down and changing his outfit, Sebastian was climbing into his Range Rover, trying not to feel guilty. Maybe his mother was right and he shouldn’t be responsible for another living being. Hopefully Hermione wasn’t too traumatized. But it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, was it? It was rude to be late for the engagement party of your boss. Well, strictly speaking, Tristan DuVal wasn’t his boss—Sebastian was employed by a modeling agency and was only signed on to be the face of Tristan DuVal’s new fashion
line for men, but still. Being late wasn’t acceptable. Looking like he’d been fighting with his cat was even less acceptable. The party wasn’t exactly a small affair, and there were likely to be members of the press in attendance. Tristan DuVal’s engagement to another man was a pretty big deal, after all. It wasn’t every day an ex-footballer of Tristan’s caliber came out.

  Sebastian smiled ruefully, wondering when the sports world was going to change. He was lucky the modeling business was nowhere as cruel and unforgiving to non-straight people. Sure, there were assholes everywhere, but things were nowhere near as bad as in football. There were quite a few gay designers and gay models in the fashion industry, and most people were cool with Sebastian being openly bisexual. Actually, he sometimes wondered whether the fact that he wasn’t straight influenced Tristan in choosing him as the face of his fashion line. Maybe. Either way, it was a great opportunity. Tristan’s fashion line was getting a lot of publicity. Sebastian didn’t doubt it would be very successful. Gay or not, Tristan DuVal had always been a media darling. He was England’s Golden Boy, with his exquisite looks, effortless charm, a childhood sob story, and the tragic ending of his promising career. Tristan also had great business instincts and belonged to the rare category of people who succeeded in everything they set out to accomplish, and Sebastian was genuinely flattered that Tristan had chosen him to be the face of his fashion line. It was going to be huge.

  Sebastian smiled excitedly at the thought, turning the ignition off and getting out of his car. As he had expected, there was a sizable group of paparazzi in front of the club.

  “Sebastian, give us a quote, please!”

  “Sebastian, is it true you’re going to be the face of DuVal’s fashion line? What about the rumored exclusive contract with Burberry?”

  “Sebastian, a comment on the scandal that happened during New York fashion week?”

  “Sebastian, you were seen with—”

  Putting on his best smoldering, mysterious look, Sebastian strode toward the club’s entrance. To be totally honest, despite years in the industry, he still felt like a fraud when he did it. Growing up, he’d been very far from being smoldering and mysterious. He’d been a total geek as a kid, preferring quiet evenings with a book to hanging out with friends that he didn’t have. Puberty hadn’t treated him well: he had been an awkward, gangly, pimply teenager obsessed with videogames and Harry Potter books, a loser who was pushed around and tripped in the corridors.

  Who would have guessed back then that he was just a very late bloomer?

  Now, looking at Sebastian’s luscious black hair, dark bedroom eyes and toned physique, no one believed how painfully uncool and unattractive he used to be. His teenage self would have never believed that a few years down the road he would have the reputation of being a womanizer. Sebastian wanted to laugh every time he heard himself called that. Well, to be fair, the reputation wasn’t entirely undeserved. Sebastian had been a bit of a slag in those first few years of modeling, shagging everything that moved, because all of a sudden people wanted him and it had been a little heady. It still was, sometimes. Sebastian couldn’t deny he still loved the thrill of attracting admiring looks from men and women who wouldn’t have spared him a second glance in his youth. Maybe it was petty, but fuck that, he was allowed to be petty after years of ridicule and rejection.

  Sebastian shook his head, smiling a little. “You’re twenty-five years old, idiot,” he murmured to himself. An adult. A real grown-up. It was well past time to get over his shitty teenage years. He wasn’t the first or the last person whose teenage years sucked.

  Shaking his thoughts off, Sebastian entered the club. His aloof face firmly on, he navigated through the crowd, a bit relieved that there were so many guests. Surely his tardiness hadn’t been noticed when there were so many other famous guests: football players, models, executives, politicians, and socialites. Sebastian wasn’t surprised. From what he knew of Tristan DuVal, the bloke wasn’t one to miss the opportunity to network. It wasn’t all business, to be fair: Sebastian could see the engaged couple’s family and quite a few familiar faces from LGBT charities. It was certainly an interesting and diverse crowd.

  Sebastian looked around the room, his gaze skimming over the groups of chatting people. He should probably find Tristan and his fiancé—

  His gaze snapped back to the tall blond man leaning against the wall. There was something familiar about him...

  The man turned his head a little and Sebastian sucked a breath in. Shit. It was him. The homophobic prick he’d sucked off in Moscow.

  Sebastian bit his lip, eyeing the other man.

  The thing was, Sebastian usually never slept with taken people. He hadn’t known Nina was taken; he had noticed the picture of her and her boyfriend only after the sex. He had felt so shitty about the whole thing, but after getting to know her close-minded boyfriend, Sebastian couldn’t exactly blame Nina for straying. The guy was a giant bully.

  Sebastian hated bullies. That man—Vlad, if his memory served right—had brought an onslaught of painful, humiliating memories from his youth: of being shoved against the lockers, called a faggot, and kicked around by a bunch of homophobic straight jerks just like that man. Sebastian couldn’t fight bullies as a teenager, but now that he was no longer stick-thin and shy, he could more than stand up for himself. He was proud that he hadn’t let his teenage insecurities overwhelm him in Moscow, proud that he hadn’t let that homophobic asshole kick him around. He had won. The asshole had left his hotel room thoroughly confused and disgusted with himself. It served him right. Sebastian had been so proud, certain that he’d taught the homophobe a lesson and Vlad would know better in the future.

  Well, so much for that. The asshole was openly sneering at Tristan and his fiancé, Zach. The couple wasn’t even doing anything outrageous: Zach had his arm slung casually around Tristan’s waist, his thumb resting on Tristan’s hip as the couple talked to a few guests. As far as public displays of affection went, it was very tame, but, judging by Vlad’s face, they might as well be making out. Tosser.

  Pursing his lips, Sebastian picked up a glass of champagne from the passing waiter and headed toward Vlad.

  “What’s a nice straight man like you doing at a place like this?” he said, leaning against the wall next to the other man.

  Vlad’s body went rigid. He didn’t turn his head toward Sebastian, so Sebastian took a moment to sweep his gaze over the guy. Vlad was clad in a black suit, black undershirt and black shoes, his cropped blond hair very fair in contrast.

  Sebastian sighed inwardly. Why couldn’t bullies look as ugly as they were on the inside?

  “What are you doing here?” Vlad said, finally turning his head. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle pulsed at his cheek. Blue eyes glared at him.

  Goosebumps ran up his spine, but Sebastian ignored his nerves and smiled lazily. “I’m a guest. What about you? I’m surprised you’re at a party like this. Aren’t you afraid to catch gay cooties?”

  Vlad’s face didn’t change, but Sebastian didn’t miss the way his hand balled into a fist in his pocket.

  “I’m working,” Vlad ground out, jerking his head to the side, toward the pretty, petite young man talking with the engaged couple. “His bodyguard.”

  Sebastian raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Luke Whitford’s? But he’s gay.”

  “Don’t tell me you two are best friends or something.”

  Sebastian laughed. The guy’s obvious worry was hilarious. “Not really,” he said. “We know each other, though. He’s more of a friend of a friend.” He thought for a moment, pondering why Luke would even need a bodyguard. “Is it about the murders? A bit counterproductive to hire a homophobe to protect a gay man from other homophobes.”

  Vlad glared at him. “Thinking that fucking men is gross isn’t the same as wanting them dead.”

  “Gross, huh?” Sebastian smiled and took a sip from his champagne, looking at Vlad over the rim of the glass. He swallowed the liquid an
d Vlad’s gaze flicked to his working throat.

  This was fun.

  Ignoring the unsure voice in the back of his head that kept telling him he was playing with fire, Sebastian let his gaze wander all over Vlad’s wide, muscular chest. He didn’t try to be subtle. Being subtle wasn’t the aim here.

  “Stop that,” Vlad said, his face turning a little red and his eyes glinting murderously.

  Sebastian blinked and smiled innocently. “Stop what?”

  “Look,” Vlad gritted out, as though every word pained him. He grabbed a drink from the passing waiter and downed it in one go. “I’m not a fag.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “I’m aware you aren’t a cigarette, mate.”

  If looks could kill, he would be dead twice over. “Don’t get cute with me.”

  Sebastian grinned and crossed his legs, cocking his hip a little. “I’m always cute,” he murmured, licking his lip and looking Vlad in the eye. “Don’t you think?”

  “I’m not a fag,” Vlad repeated flatly, holding Sebastian’s gaze. “Don’t get some ideas just because I fucked your mouth once.”

  Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected Vlad to acknowledge aloud what had happened at all.

  “Okay,” Sebastian said. When Vlad gave him a suspicious, narrow-eyed look, Sebastian murmured, “Nice cock, though. I enjoyed it a lot.” And he sauntered away, smiling to himself. He did enjoy messing with bullies’ poor little brains. Vlad’s face had been priceless.

  * * *

  Vlad hadn’t intended to drink here. Roman would have his hide if he found out Vlad was less than sober while he was bodyguarding Luke. Granted, a glass of champagne wasn’t even going to get him tipsy, but still. It didn’t sit well with him that he could be so easily driven to alcohol.