“Oh. Right.” James turned to Patrick. “Where’s that place you’re staying again?”
Patrick made an animated gesture with a glass—oh, fuck, they’ve got into the champagne, haven’t they?—and said, “Over on . . . what’s that street? Stratford Street? The May Fair Hotel?”
“Right. Yes.” James met Cal’s eyes in the mirror. “Take us to Stratford Street. The May Fair.”
It was actually on Stratton Street, but whatever. “Will do, sir.” Cal started to roll up the privacy screen, but made the mistake of glancing back one more time. He caught James’s eye, and once again, James seemed to sober a little.
Then the screen blocked Cal’s view, and he’d never been so thankful for that. He shifted the car into gear and, gritting his teeth and holding the wheel tighter than necessary, took them back to Patrick’s hotel. He didn’t let himself imagine what might be going on behind the screen. He didn’t want to know. It wasn’t his concern anymore, no matter how concerned he still was for James and how much he wanted to leave Patrick on the side of the road, take James home, and tuck him into bed like he’d done in the days before things had got weird.
At the hotel, James got out, and the two men exchanged the usual handshakes and formalities, though with considerably less coordination and enunciation. Patrick staggered into the lobby, and James slid back into the car without even looking at Cal.
The privacy screen stayed up on the drive home. Cal assumed they were headed home. It was very late, and James hadn’t told him to go anywhere else, so that was where he went.
In front of the house, he left the car idling and stepped outside. The property was quiet compared to the rest of the city, even at this time of night, and the crunch of Cal’s dress shoes on gravel seemed to echo off the front of the big, empty house.
The place seemed extra dark, too, but that was because he’d put on his sunglasses just before he’d got out.
He pulled open the passenger door and stood aside. James stepped out, wobbling a little, and as soon as he was upright, faced Cal. He eyed him, probably wondering why on earth Cal had on shades this time of night.
“Anything else, sir?” Cal asked.
“Um.” James glanced at the house. “I wondered if you’d come in. For a cup of coffee.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.”
“Why not?” James was drunk enough to really ask him that.
“Because.” Cal took his sunglasses off and stared James right in the eye. “You’re drunk and that means you’re in no state to give consent for me to fuck you. I can of course take you to Market Garden to get a pro.”
James frowned. “Just coffee, Cal. I didn’t . . .”
“You’ve just come out of a strip club and you want to drink coffee?” Cal scoffed. “I. Don’t. Think. So.” More like an itch that needed scratching, but he was done offering that kind of all-inclusive service.
“That wasn’t what I intended.”
“Then I apologise, sir. It’s been a long day.” Cal couldn’t bring himself to meet James’s eyes. “Is that all, or do you require anything else, sir?”
“You are going to leave, aren’t you?” James said it quietly.
“Once the replacement has been trained, yes.”
James looked at him, but Cal kept his gaze at a point just past James’s temple and slightly behind him. “Anything else, sir?”
James shook his head and turned, somewhat unsteady on his feet, and damn him, but Cal wanted to make sure he didn’t break his stupid neck on the way to bed. He couldn’t help that impulse. He still cared about the man.
But he forced himself to not move a muscle until James had opened the door and gone inside.
Then he parked the car and went to the cottage, where he stripped out of his clothes, had the quickest possible shower, and fell right into bed. At least he’d managed to sleep better than he had recently, now that the decision was made.
The next morning, even with just four and a half hours of sleep, he felt much better. He was waiting outside the door at the usual time. It didn’t give him any grim satisfaction to see James squint against the light when he finally emerged.
James stopped beside the car, and Cal bit back a groan.
Just get in the fucking car already.
“We’ve got a little time before my meeting. I’d like to talk.”
“About?”
“About the other night.”
Cal stiffened. “We should get to your meeting, sir.”
James flinched at the last word. “Afterwards, then? I know it’s not an easy thing to discuss, but I think we should.”
Cal took off his sunglasses and met James’s eyes like he had last night in this exact same place. “You made it clear what you want and what you don’t want the other night. I can respect that, but I’m not going to subject myself to it time and again, knowing I’m just a substitute for the guys you pay to . . .” To leave when you’re through with them. “The guys at Market Garden give you what you need. You give them what they need. All I want is to be left out of it so I can get what I need.”
James’s lips parted.