“Me, let you? Since when did you need my permission to do anything?”
“Since forever. You’re spinning now. Why are you spinning?” He frowned. “I don’t feel?” Ben grabbed his arm and forcibly pulled him from the bed. He was just in time. Head held over the toilet bowl, Nikolas discovered he was hardly Russian at all.
When it was over, it began again. Ben had never seen anyone so sick. He was quite impressed. He reckoned Nikolas might regret the not-eating thing in the morning.
He was right. Nikolas had been shot, starved, raped, beaten, and tortured, but nothing had prepared him for the hangover he woke to. He managed to crawl out of bed at midday, and then only as far as the bathroom, where he spent another half hour retching.
When he made it to the living room and sat down at the table, even the coffee Ben put in front of him sent him back to the bathroom. He finally managed to stay at the table and drink some water in the middle of the afternoon, and even then his voice was a husky croak, and his hands were shaking.
Ben slid into the chair opposite. Nikolas tried to look at him, but his bloodshot eyes seemed too heavy to hold up. He put his head down on folded arms and groaned. Ben ran his fingers through his blond strands. “You’re getting absolutely no sympathy from me, by the way.”
“Did I…do anything? Say anything? I don’t remember.”
“You admitted you slept with him, Nik.”
Nikolas jerked his head up then winced and held his temples. He frowned. “Then I was lying. Why did I lie? Why would I sleep with him when I have you? That makes no sense. Oh.” He put his head back down. “You’re being funny. I’m highly amused.”
“Why did you go there?”
Unbelievably, Nikolas managed to make his odd gesture of dismissal, despite hardly being able to lift his hand without groaning. “We’ve come to our agreement.” He stood up very deliberately and headed back toward the bathroom. “But I will tell you later.”
He’d still not fully recovered the next day and kept a very low profile, lying on the sofa, pretending to read. Ben kept him topped up with coffee and some light food and left him to his misery. He had work to do.
He’d revised his initial plan to take out Gregory’s security men. He hadn’t been in the best of moods at the time, but now in the light of day, and basking in Nikolas’s apparent faithfulness, he’d decided it was only Gregory who needed to go. Therefore, an attack on the house was probably unnecessary. Also, he’d now discovered through Squeezy’s observations of the Russian’s comings and goings that Gregory was driven every day into Chelsea, same time, one driver. Ben’s bike was still in pieces in a burnt-out kitchen; he needed new wheels.
He therefore did something very uncharacteristic; he fired up Nikolas’s laptop. He put in a search, and then, without warning, utterly defenceless, he fell in love. It hit him like a punch to his solar plexus; it took his breath away. Nikolas was in the kitchen on the phone, talking in Russian, yet again. He could hear traffic noises faintly from below. Radulf was chewing on something. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment to see if it was still real. It was. He sensed Nikolas come into the room but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen, even for him.
Nikolas came and stood behind him, hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk.”
Ben just nodded.
“Why are you on my computer?”
“Because I don’t have one.”
“Huh. What’s that?”
“It’s a Ducati.”
“Uh.”
Ben turned, his eyes wide. “Just uh? Look at it!”
Nikolas frowned but dutifully did as Ben asked. Ben stood, went to the window, came back, sat down. “It’s called…the Monster Diesel.”
“I’ve been able to read English for many years. So?”
“That’s me, Nik. That was my name—my nickname in the Regiment. And see…it’s described as military urban chic. It’smybike. It’sme.” He added in an awed voice, “It’sfate.”
Nikolas laughed. “You’re military urban chic now, hmm?” He kissed the top of Ben’s head. “Buy it. It’s your birthday next week.Iremembered.”
Ben turned. “Seriously. Just like that?”
Nikolas seemed very slightly shifty. “It might cheer you up. When I tell you what I need to tell you. Come.” He sat down on the sofa and patted the space next to him.
“I’m okay here. Just tell me, yeah?”
Nikolas sighed and stretched out his legs. Ben noticed a slight wince but decided it was a play for sympathy so he ignored it. “Gregory has cancer.” Nikolas glanced up to see how this was received and added quickly, “I believe him. I’ve seen the doctor’s reports—The Royal Marsden in Chelsea. It’s why he’s in London in the first place. Lung cancer, which has now?I’ve no idea how you say this in English, but it means spread? Anyway, it’s done that thing. It’s now in his?I don’t know English for this either. I’m sorry.” He put a hand to the side of his neck. “Here, but not the throat?”
