Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wildest Dreams

The city was on the move.

From the drawing room window, Duke Akai Shuichi watched the carriages clatter down the cobblestone street, drenched in the sunset’s scarlet glow. Even from here, he could hear the laughter of bright voices, every member of society heading for the glittering Mori estate—dressed to the nines for the last ball of the summer.

He had known it was coming, the end of the season. He just hadn’t expected to care.

Akai braced his forearm against the stippled glass. He and Shukichi should be on their way by now. They’d be rolling up late, with the drunks and all those who’d been skinned alive in the last issue of the local gossip rag. (Which Akai had.) But he couldn’t tear himself away from this window. Searching every dark carriage for a flash of sharp blue eyes—some small, naïve part of him still waiting for one of them to stop, for the man who’d been on his arm all summer to step out and look up at the house, and let Akai make a fool of himself one more time.  

Movement over his shoulder. Akai turned as Shukichi came into the room, struggling with his cufflinks.

“Brother, can you fasten these? I promised Yumi I’d be presentable tonight.”

Akai’s mouth quirked up. “It’s you, Shukichi. She should know not to expect too much.” But his tone was easy as he threaded the silver cufflinks into Shukichi’s sleeves. Somehow, in the churning hell of high society’s marriage market, his eccentric younger brother had found a love match—someone who fit him like a glove. Someone who actually made him happy.

Akai…well, it didn’t look like he was going to get that lucky.

Another figure had followed Shukichi into the room—a girl of about eight, with dirty overalls and bits of bark and broken twigs snagged in her messy hair. Akai liked her that way, especially because his mother didn’t. Masumi scrambled up onto the windowsill and pressed her nose to the glass, trying to see what Akai had been looking at.

“The Marchioness Suzuki sent a footman with a whole tower of croquembouche,” the girl reported. “Her daughter Eva’s very excited that you’re escorting her to the dance tonight.”

Akai shook his head. “Resorting to bribery already? Not a promising start for an engagement.” The words came out a little more bitter than he’d intended.

Masumi and Shukichi exchanged a look. “Then…you’re still going to propose tonight?” Shukichi asked gingerly.

“That’s the plan,” Akai said, trying to keep his face neutral. It was harder, with Masumi holding tight to his sleeve, looking up at him with big, puzzled eyes.

“Even though you’re in love with someone else?”

Akai pressed his lips into a grim line, so he didn’t have to tell her how little that mattered.

As firstborn of the Akai family, Shuichi always knew there were certain expectations of his eventual marriage. Obligations he must meet to honor his father’s title and ensure his younger siblings could make a good match in turn. He’d put it off as long as he could—made it to twenty-five as a notorious playboy, boxing in underground clubs and traveling to any corner of the continent his mother wasn’t on—before the duchess called him home and made it clear she expected him to take a spouse this season. Or, as his mother put it, giving him a look that had felled lesser heads of state: I brought you into this world, Shuichi—do your job, or I’ll take you out of it.

There was no reason to assume she was joking. So Akai had waded into the marriage circus with no enthusiasm, already certain what he was looking for. Someone high status. Someone low-maintenance. Someone with no delusions that love had anything to do with this. Until the first ball of the season brought him face to face with a fiery blond with piercing blue eyes and nothing but disdain for everything Akai stood for—and suddenly, he wasn’t sure that was good enough anymore.

His name was Furuya Rei. The adopted son of a prosperous merchant—new money—he’d apparently arrived on the scene the summer before and alienated everyone who let him in the door. He had a savvy instinct for business, but none at all for social situations. Akai heard he’d outshot the Matsuda heir at his own party, bested Lord Kansuke in a wager for his prize white stallion, and gotten on the wrong side of the entire Hagiwara clan in one fell swoop when he dropped in on Miss Chihaya’s engagement party and made a scathing comment about the event’s frankly excessive opulence just to show off the family’s wealth to the son of the hostess he was insulting.

Akai hadn’t done much better with his own first impression. In the haze of the Starling family ballroom, lightheaded from the smell of jasmine and peonies and the candlelight winking off the chandeliers, he’d caught sight of a man he didn’t recognize at the top of the stairs—sharp and striking in royal blue, standing out like a sapphire against a sea of diamonds and pearls. Even at thirty feet, he was intoxicating. Akai caught up to the gorgeous blond near the refreshments and, assuming he was another lord, made an unwise comment about desperate new-money debutantes looking to leech off someone else’s fortune.

Rei fixed him with a honey-sweet smile. Then he cocked back and slugged him, right in the jaw, so hard Akai took the lemonade table down with him.

They made the front page of the gossip rag the next morning. And most of the three pages after that.

Akai’s lips twitched at the memory, one hand rising to his jaw. The bruise had long faded, but sometimes he swore he could still feel it—an indelible mark Rei had left on him, unforgettable as a first kiss.

That was the beginning of his courtship with the passionate, unpredictable Furuya Rei. And very nearly the end of Rei’s short, violent social debut. Akai was convinced the only reason the queen hadn’t cold-shouldered him out of court as persona non grata was that Akai had pissed her off two seasons ago, when he’d snubbed a match to a distant niece. Her Majesty never forgot a grudge.

Rei didn’t either, judging from his scowl the next morning when Akai caught him on the promenade.

“Is this you doing me a favor?” he asked drily, as Akai fell into step beside him, lifting a parasol over his head. All of the other fine citizens on the riverwalk seemed to be giving him a wide berth.

Akai smirked. “Actually, you’re doing one for me. You appear to have a talent for keeping people at a distance. Usually, I’m beating them off with a stick,” he added, nodding at the eager debutantes watching them from the mossy bridge.

Rei rolled his eyes. “Your arrogance isn’t as attractive as you think it is.”

“No?” Akai cocked his eyebrow, amused. “Is there some other quality of mine you prefer?”

“What does that hideous bruise on your face tell you?” Rei replied sweetly.

Akai chuckled. “That I need to work on my blocking.” More charmed than he should have been, watching Rei fling his parasol into the Thames to show what he thought of Akai being solicitous.

Nothing with Rei came easy. But Akai didn’t want easy. He wanted this. Someone who didn’t flatter his ego, who could match him move for move in the boxing ring—at the pool table—on the dance floor. He spent the summer escorting Rei to every ball, every fete, every garden party. Anywhere he had an excuse to press his palm to Rei’s lower back and feel him shiver.

His mother tried to warn him off. But Akai was captivated. He’d never met anyone who burned like this—so hot that just locking eyes with him left Akai’s whole body singed, desire sizzling in him like a struck match. Rei was wild and reckless; a powder keg forever one spark from going off. And in his presence, Akai felt alive, parts of him that had been iced over for a decade suddenly raw and breathing. Every night before was an unremarkable, unremembered thing, like the tick of a clock he’d long grown used to. Now the nights stood out in stunning color, the clock counting down each agonizing second until he found those piercing blue eyes again.

Akai had never been interested in love. But he hadn’t known love could feel like this. Like the whole world opening—like Galileo discovering the skies above him were infinite, brimming with uncountable blazing stars.

Rei was harder to read. Akai couldn’t help pushing, forever testing what Rei would let him get away with. Dancing a little longer. Gripping his waist a little tighter. Leaning in a little closer—close enough to watch his eyes flare, to hear the catch in his breath as Akai’s lips teased his cheek.

He wanted to think the attraction went both ways. But there was one line from the gossip magazine that he couldn’t get out of his head:

Is the stunning Furuya Rei truly looking for love, or has he just made his debut on the Ton as a cover for his own secretive agenda?

On some level, Akai had suspected their courtship was a means to an end. Knowing what he knew now—what Rei was really after, and how much was at stake—Akai couldn’t fault him for anything he’d done. And yet, even after Rei confided in him, Akai couldn’t help wondering, if he asked—if he dared to lay his heart on the table, got down on one knee—if there was any chance Rei would say yes.

Well, he had his answer now.

The last of the light was failing. Akai crossed to the mantlepiece. Laid out on a square of black velvet were two silver engagement rings. A forgettable pink diamond, for a girl he barely knew; and a flashing sapphire, cut so sharp it could draw blood. Just like the man he’d intended it for. Akai lifted his hand, hesitated.

He’d been so careless. Drunk on the sweetness of Rei’s skin, he’d forgotten the bitterness that came after, the hangover of a broken heart. He’d fallen in love with a wildfire, and it had left him in ashes. And still Akai knew he’d throw himself right back into the flames, just to feel the ecstasy of that heat just one more time.

Shukichi pressed a hand to his shoulder. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Akai let out a long breath. “It’s not my mind I’d have to change. Some things just aren’t meant to be,” he murmured, as he slipped the pink diamond into his pocket.

And then tucked the sapphire right next to it, like a fool.

* * *

Rei knew that, in the world of wasteful extravagance, there was no such thing as too much. But Viscount Mori Kogoro had really outdone himself this time.

From the top of the grand staircase, Rei paused to look out over the ballroom, just as he had the first night of the season. The vast hall below him shimmered with the light of a dozen crystal chandeliers, and every arch and colonnade was wreathed in hanging boughs of bright wisteria, the air so sweet it was like breathing champagne. An eight-piece string ensemble played lively violin concertos for the couples spinning on the marble floor. The banquet tables were heaped with exotic, imported foods to show off how rich Mori was, which no one was eating to show off their good manners. If there was such a thing as embarrassingly wealthy, this was it.

It was an unbelievable estate for a man like Mori Kogoro, minor noble and perpetual drunk. But then, it wasn’t rightfully his. It had belonged to the Kudou family—still did, as far as Rei was concerned.

A group of happy young women swept down the stairs. Rei stepped aside to let them pass, brushing pink wisteria petals off his coat. He had worn this same outfit at the first ball of the season. Repeating was gauche, at least in the opinion of those who hadn’t come up scrapping for pocket change in the gutter, like Rei had. But he’d chosen it so carefully, every element picked for effect, that he couldn’t resist wearing it one more time. His sharp midnight-blue suit cut to show off every line and angle of his body. The brocade vest underneath it embroidered with silver-blue swirls—subtle, just eye-catching enough to make someone lean in for a better look. He’d ditched the stuffy cravat, wore his high collar skewed on purpose to expose the soft hollow of his clavicle. An ornamental string tie with a blue gemstone clasp glittered at his throat.

He knew good. Of course, that wasn’t why people were staring at him, whispering behind their fans as they passed.

“To think he’d dare show his face here—a man of his dubious parentage…”

“I heard he refused the duke’s proposal, can you imagine?”

Rei ignored them. It was no less than he’d expected. He was sure the only reason his name hadn’t been scratched off the guest list was so everyone could gawk and sneer at him. There was nothing this town loved more than a scandal, after all.

One of his fellow debutantes stopped to gloat. “So sorry you missed your chance with the duke,” she simpered, not trying to hide her glee. “I guess it’s true what they say—you can’t put pearls before swine.”

“Nor lipstick on a pig, though you’ve clearly given it your best shot,” Rei replied with his most charming smile. Wondering, as she stormed off, if he’d always been that petty, or if he was living down to these people’s expectations.

It didn’t matter. He’d made it to tonight. This was his last chance—his only chance. And Rei wasn’t leaving without what he came for.

Casually, he leaned on the banister, scanning the room for one face in particular. The crowd below him was all bright colors, feathers, flounces, and frills—every one of them jeweled and gleaming. Rei noted the viscount talking the ear off a very bored-looking circle of widows, and Lady Sato letting that bungling Constable Takagi waltz her the wrong way and step all over her feet.

Every member of the Ton wanted to be at this party. Though Rei’s reasons were a little different than most. Unlike all the other men and women hoping to use their beauty or skills to move up in class, to secure their family’s fortunes—or, for the really deluded, to find true love—Rei hadn’t made his debut seeking marriage. He’d only come looking for one thing.

Rei stiffened. There he was—on the balcony across the way. A little boy, about eight, so short he had to stand up on his tiptoes just to peer over the railing.

Kudou Shinichi.

Someone had dressed him for the party in a gray vest over a dark shirt and trousers, his tiny black shoes polished to a shine. Nobody could do anything about his little cowlick, though. The sight made Rei smile.

He’d first met Kudou Shinichi about a year ago. Shinichi was a minor prince—descended from royalty on his mother’s side, something like sixteen or seventeen spots from the throne. They’d bumped into each other at a gentlemen’s social club on the West End, where children were definitely not allowed. But there was always a different set of rules for those of high enough station, and the Kudous were higher than anyone who didn’t wear a crown in public.

Rei was new to London then—still finding his feet as adopted son and heir apparent of the Hattori Heizo Shipping Company, using all the wrong forks at dinner parties and generally pissing important people off. His adoptive father had sent him over to the club to make connections. Instead of the rowdy bar, he’d found himself drawn to the chessboard set up at the back of the billiards room. Rei wasn’t much of a chess player—Heizo had just taught him enough to put up a good fight, give him a reason to linger in places like this, where important introductions were made. And yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off the game: a slight, scrawny boy with bright blue eyes playing the Earl of Winchester.

He was clearly losing on purpose. But it was more than that, Rei realized, after watching a second game; he was losing in a specific way, engineering scenarios so he could practice gambits and reversals. Rei saw him expertly dodge the earl’s fumbling knight and break the entire white pawn chain with just one bishop, before inexplicably nudging his own king into an easy checkmate.

He had already known, then, that Shinichi was brilliant. But he hadn’t known how often he’d replay that night in his head—Shinichi’s little deception smirk as the earl moved off, flushed with victory, and then the surprise on his face when Rei dropped into the worn velvet chair across from him, bracing his chin on his palm.

“They won’t learn anything if you let them win,” Rei said, fixing the boy with a knowing look.

“They won’t learn anything anyway,” Shinichi insisted, belligerent. But his eyes were darting over Rei, as if deciphering everything about him in a glance. He leaned forward on his elbows, his little feet swinging under the chair. “You must be new around here.”

“Because I don’t know the Earl of Winchester’s a hopeless case?” Rei asked, biting down a smile.

“Because everything,” Shinichi said, with a roll of his eyes. He pointed at Rei’s jacket. “New waistcoat but long in the sleeves, since you’re too impatient to stand for a fitting. Scuffed-up shoes, because you’re used to walking and don’t bother with carriages. And your left hand is gripping coins in your pocket, when everyone else just buys on credit and assumes someone will pay for it later.” And then, more hesitantly: “Besides…you’re over here talking to me. No one else bothers anymore.”

Well, that was heartbreaking. Rei glanced back at the self-important lords trading flattering stories at the bar. Then he shrugged, leaning forward and racking the carved chess pieces onto the board. “I guess that means you’ve got time for a game with me, then.”

“My time isn’t that valuable,” Shinichi told him. But Rei didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes, the way he sat up a little straighter as he expertly slid each piece into place.

“Depends who you ask.” Rei gave the last rook a playful shake, warning, “Don’t pull your punches.”

“Then I’m going to win,” Shinichi told him matter-of-factly.

“Probably,” Rei agreed, sliding his king’s pawn to e4. “But I won’t make it easy for you.”

That was the first night in months Rei felt like he could breathe. He spent hours bent over that chessboard with Shinichi, drinking Turkish coffee and talking modern strategy from Sarratt to Deschappelles, until Rei’d enough of losing and taught Shinichi to shoot pool instead, laughing when the boy tried for a long shot and almost toppled off his barstool.

Rei doubted he’d ever see that boy again. But all summer, he kept running into Shinichi that way. At the riverwalk, looking longingly at the rowboats. At Marchioness Suzuki’s excruciating tea party, Shinichi making Rei choke by imitating the long-winded, long-bearded Lord of Windsor with this napkin. At the Royal Observatory of Science and Astronomy, where they stood together beneath the shining forty-foot telescope, Rei hiding his smile at the look of wonder on Shinichi’s face.

He never saw much of Shinichi’s parents. The Kudou couple, Yusaku and Yukiko, seemed to be very busy with their lives as wealthy socialites, in which Shinichi was at best a footnote. Rei clocked about thirty seconds of parenting per event, Vivian popping in on them suddenly in the middle of a poker game and smacking a kiss onto Shinichi’s cheek before she swept back into the party.

“Is this really all they do with their time?” Rei muttered, a little annoyed on Shinichi’s behalf. “Just dance and gossip and ignore everyone who’s not royalty?”

Shinichi shrugged around his peppermint stick. “Gossiping’s basically the official court pastime,” he said, missing that Rei was annoyed with the Kudous in particular. “It’s more fun when you’re in the club. Which you’re not. Because you have no social capital,” he added, cheeky.

“So you’ve told me,” Rei said, flicking a card at him. “I guess this is you taking pity on me, huh?” And then gave Shinichi’s hair a serious mussing, just to make him squawk.

It still surprised him, how fast he’d gotten attached to that kid. Though Rei was twenty-one and Shinichi just seven, he was the first friend Rei had ever made. He had been a little lonely, finding his way in this new world that didn’t like him much. And he got the sense Shinichi was a little lonely too. He felt like the little brother Rei’d never had, the family he’d always longed for.

Which only made it harder, when the weather started to turn and Rei remembered the great shipping vessel anchored in the harbor—the long voyage that already had his name on it.

The night before his departure, he’d come by the Kudous’ London estate to say goodbye. Shinichi stood on the front step with his arms crossed, refusing to meet Rei’s eyes.

“You’ll forget me,” he said, utterly sure.

Rei knelt next to him. “I won’t. I’ll see you next summer. Pinky promise,” he said, holding out his hand with his smallest finger crooked up.

Shinichi looked unimpressed. “My father says nothing’s binding but a contract.” Which was a horrible thing to tell your seven-year-old. But Rei pressed on.

“This is better,” he insisted. “A contract is based on mutual obligation, not trust. You sign a contract because you have to. No one makes a pinky promise unless they mean it.” And held his ground, just waiting, until Shinichi relented.

“Fine. Pinky promise,” he said, hooking his little finger to Rei’s. “The second you’re back, come find me.”

Rei had every intention of doing that. But by the time he made it back to London, it was already too late. Two months before, the Kudous had been killed in a tragic carriage accident. And in the aftermath, Shinichi had disappeared. He hadn’t been seen in public since the funeral.

Rei had barely started making inquiries about him when he got an unexpected letter from the Viscount Mori Kogoro—apparently an old friend of the Kudous’ who had taken guardianship of Shinichi, but could allow no visitors due to the boy’s fragile mental state. Rei didn’t buy a word of it.

The viscount even sent a short note from Shinichi himself—just saying he was fine, keeping up with chess, and that Rei might as well stop looking for him and go on with his life. But when Rei folded it on the diagonal, imitating the line of pawns in Shinichi’s favorite French defense, he found another message hidden along the crease.

Find me.

It hadn’t been easy. Shinichi was right: Rei had burned too many bridges and had too little social capital to get into Mori Kogoro’s inner circle. So he threw himself into the marriage market instead. It was six weeks of unrelenting high society hell. But for the moment when he finally saw Shinichi again, and watched those blue eyes get a little wet as Shinichi whispered, “You actually came”—for that moment, he would do it all again.

Shinichi had spotted him from the far balcony. The boy gave two quick taps to the garnet brooch pinning his tie. Then the housekeeper came around the corner, and Shinichi had to duck into the crowd before she corralled him back to the other children.

Rei swallowed. They hadn’t had a lot of time to discuss the plan, or their signals. But two taps meant full speed ahead. They were doing this.

For all his scheming and duplicity, the one thing Mori Kogoro apparently wasn’t lying about was that he really was Shinichi’s legal guardian, appointed by name in the Kudous’ will. Legally, there was nothing Rei could do. Until Shinichi turned twenty-one, he was trapped under the viscount’s thumb, a political pawn for a bitter old man slowly drinking himself to death on Shinichi’s inheritance. So Rei was breaking him out.

Through the swirl of lavish gowns, he caught Shinichi’s eyes and nodded. When he saw his chance, Shinichi would steal the Kudous’ will and his guardianship papers from the viscount’s safe. Those would get them out of the port, as long as no one looked too carefully. Rei’s white stallion was saddled nearby—his trunks were already waiting at the docks, plus every pound he could scrape out of his accounts. Enough money to make a fresh start.

They’d be on the run. But Shinichi would be free. And Rei would take that deal—no matter what it cost him.

A sudden hush descended on the ballroom. Rei felt the prickle of eyes on him again, the viscount’s guests pointing and whispering. It took him a second to work out why. Someone new had just entered the ballroom, pausing under the arch of wisteria. The last person Rei wanted to see tonight.

Duke Akai Shuichi.

Rei gripped the banister to steady himself. Even from across the room, Akai hit him like a left hook, hard enough to leave him dizzy. But then, he always had. His brother Shukichi stood beside him, looking bewildered as usual to find himself in public. They were both handsome—but only Akai was darkly mesmerizing, sleek and strong as a panther in his black velvet jacquard coat. His red ascot matched the scarlet ribbon tying back his long raven hair. Rei refused to use the word tresses, though he’d heard other people do that. And he knew all too well that they were silk-soft, glossy and cool to the touch…not that he was thinking about it.

Whoever had arranged his wardrobe tonight had done it a little too well, Rei decided. Honestly, Akai should be locked up for wearing trousers that skin-tight. At least his coat hung long, or people would be power-swooning right into the cocktail table.

Akai’s green eyes leapt to the balcony. Rei turned away from him—and from the young woman he was escorting, shooting smug looks at all her fair-weather friends. One of those insipid admirers he knew Akai disdained. Rei had the irrational urge to snap every one of her fingertips resting lightly on his arm.

“Suzuki Eva? I didn’t realize he’d gotten that desperate.”

Rei glanced up. Lady Jodie Starling leaned on the banister next to him, her chin propped on her glove as she watched the couple down below.

She offered Rei a sympathetic smile. “I haven’t heard the whole story. But I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Since she was a friend of Akai’s, Rei assumed she meant it, unlike all the other curtain-twitchers who were just enjoying the show. He shook his head, wishing the air wasn’t so thick and cloying. “It’s fine. He’s…insufferable.”

Jodie chuckled, pushing up her tortoiseshell spectacles. “No argument there. Still…I’m always rooting for the underdog.” She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze as she moved off, leaving him to collect the scraps of his dignity.

Rei’s mouth bent in a bitter smile. When had he become such a cliché—standing here with an ugly knot in his chest, obsessing over his ex…what, exactly? Ex-suitor? Ex-summer fling? What had they ever been to each other, anyway?

He pushed down the stairs and went to find Shinichi, keeping the swirling dance floor between him and Akai.

In the beginning, he’d just been a mark. Rei didn’t have the right pedigree to get invited to every party, so he’d needed someone who did. Just a flirtation; that’s all it was supposed to be. He’d picked an easier target first, a minor earl who seemed gullible, easily flattered. Not gullible enough to believe Rei was interested, though, when he couldn’t keep his eyes off the Duke of Akai.

He was just…infuriating. Arrogant. A well-known rake with what people in polite circles called a reputation. And so much more intelligent than that lazy smirk implied. From the moment they met, Akai seemed to relish irritating him. And he was irritating. Deeply. Only there was something else to it—this tiny hitch in Rei’s throat, like anticipation, something sharp-edged and delicious every time he felt those eyes on him.

It was impossible not to like his attention. Rei had come to court intending to play the mysterious stranger: charming, capricious, hard to get. He hadn’t meant to be quite so much himself, stubborn and short-tempered. And yet Akai seemed to want him anyway, exactly as he was. It was intoxicating, to be wanted like that.

Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan. But it was so much harder than he’d expected, not falling for a man like that. Especially after the night Rei told him about Shinichi, and Akai didn’t ask him anything—not for proof, not to back down from the fight—didn’t say anything at all, as he brushed Rei’s hair back and moved in to shield him from the rain, except, “Tell me what you need.”

For six weeks, all summer, they’d been the talk of the Ton—the scandal, the rags-to-riches romance. Until six days ago, when Rei ripped Akai’s heart out and crushed it under the heel of his riding boot.

It was the day he and Shinichi had made their escape plan, whispering through the cracks in the mossy garden wall while Akai drew the viscount to the front door. The day he learned Mori’s claim as guardian was legitimate, and the only move they had left was to run. Rei was distracted on the way back—didn’t notice until it was too late that Akai wasn’t leading him into the city, but toward Rei’s favorite spot on the river, the lush weeping willow that hung over a tumbledown bridge. The kind of place you only went for one reason.

The last few weeks, their courtship of convenience had evolved into something more dangerous—something Rei couldn’t afford. Which was why he knew exactly what was coming, when Akai ducked under the whispering willow boughs and turned to face him, his green eyes so soft in the river light. Rei stopped breathing—Akai reached into the pocket of his waistcoat—and Rei jerked back a step and got one breath down his tight throat and said—

“I’m ending this.” His voice perfectly steady, somehow, as he added, “I think we’ve taken this charade far enough, don’t you?”

He didn’t want to remember every detail, down to the tiny silver clink as Akai’s fingers stuttered and the ring slipped out of his pocket, the sapphire flashing like a dying star as it hit the ground. But he assumed he always would. The silence; the smell of Akai’s sandalwood cologne as he stepped in close—confused, wounded, his eyes dark as he caught Rei’s shoulders.

He looked…desperate. Rei had never seen him desperate before.

“Rei, you don’t have to do this,” he said. “Whatever you want—whatever you need—I’ll give it to you.”

But he couldn’t. Because unlike Rei, he had people here. Status. Obligations. All those things that Rei found so suffocating, like a collar forever tightening around his throat. Rei might have forced his way into the world of London’s elite—but Akai belonged in it. And Rei couldn’t stay in it with him, and also get Shinichi out.

All his fellow debutantes, every character in a romance novel spoke of being torn between their head and their heart. What was Rei supposed to do, when it was two pieces of his heart tearing him in half?

Well, he knew. He’d made his choice. It was just excruciating, with Akai looking at him like that.

It didn’t matter, Rei told himself, gritting his teeth. Akai had his siblings—his connections—his pick of anyone on the marriage circuit. He’d be fine. There was only one person in this world who actually needed Rei, and he’d be damned if he let anything come between them. Even his own fickle, covetous heart.

Rei shoved the willow boughs aside and stalked out onto the bridge. Akai caught him halfway across, pulled him back by the wrist.

“Rei—”

“Lay off.” Rei jerked free, eyes flashing. “I told you about Shinichi. You knew why I was doing this.”

“It started that way. Doesn’t have to be all it is.” Akai’s voice was low and urgent, his hand rising to cradle Rei’s jaw. “Rei, I—”

“Don’t say it,” Rei hissed. He didn’t need those words in his head.

But Akai wouldn’t stop. “I’m in love with—”

“I said don’t say it!” Rei slapped Akai’s hand away, all his grief and frustration overwhelming him. “Don’t you get it? I was just using you! You could have been anyone—anyone high enough to get me inside these cloistered walls. Do you know how pathetic it is, to fall for someone who’s faking it? God, you’re unbearable. I can’t even look at you.”

That was what he wanted to believe—that he couldn’t look at Akai because he was pathetic. Not because it hurt to watch the light dimming in those beautiful jade-green eyes.

Rei wished he’d realized, then, that they were visible from the promenade, half the Ton watching them from farther up the river. In that moment, all he could see was Akai. He had this shaky, gut-sick feeling that if Akai moved toward him one more time, he was going to crumble—seize him by the collar and drag him into a kiss, and let Akai slide that ring onto his finger even though it would ruin everything. But Akai stayed where he was.

“All of it was a lie?” he asked finally.

Rei scraped his messy hair back, trying to keep the truth off his face. “What can I say, I’m good.”

“Even that night in the garden?” Akai pressed.

Rei had been trying not to think about that. The night he’d broken all the rules—surrendered to the heat of Akai’s mouth and the taste of his skin and the pleasure of raking his nails into that long, dark hair. The night that had consumed his dreams ever since. Rei looked away, shoving the memory down.

“You needed a win. A reason to keep going. So I gave it to you. That’s all it was.”

Akai let out a soft breath, his smile bitter. “You’re right. You are good.” Then he turned and walked off, only stopping beneath the willow to slip the dirty ring back into his pocket.

That was the last time they’d seen each other, before tonight. Rei wanted to say he hadn’t been thinking about it. But he’d barely slept in six days—just lay there in the dark aching, remembering that look on Akai’s face.

The string ensemble had started a quick-tempo waltz. Rei circled past the refreshments table. He’d nearly made it around the room, with no sign of Shinichi. There were a few familiar faces up ahead, though—a group of young men about his age, watching him with varying degrees of interest and hostility.

Rei only really recognized one of them: Matsuda Jinpei, the hothead who’d been all bent out of shape when Rei beat him in a shooting contest last year. Rei still had a scar on his elbow from Matsuda decking him and putting him flat on the cobblestones. Apparently he’d been pissed because he’d cajoled the girl he was courting into the gallery and planned to propose after he won. Rei had suggested he propose anyway, as a loser, and if she still wanted to marry him, he’d know it was true love. Which was about when he got punched.

Matsuda nudged the tall man next to him—Hagiwara, if Rei remembered right. Hagiwara shot him a mocking wave. Then the man shoulder-checked him and sent him stumbling into whoever was passing on the other side. Rei hissed as lemonade splattered all over his shoes.

“Hey! Watch what you’re—”

The words died in his throat. He’d crashed right into Akai Shuichi. A half-spilled glass of lemonade dangled precariously in his right hand; with his left, he’d grabbed Rei’s elbow to steady him. Rei felt the scorch of his touch all the way through his coat.

“Akai,” he breathed. At the scandalized look from Baroness Bembridge, he tacked on, “Or—Duke Akai. Your Grace. Whatever.” Just daring the judgmental old bat to say something about it.

Akai’s lips twitched. “Rei,” he returned. Still using his name so familiarly, even in this setting.

A fierce wave of longing swept through Rei, staring into those eyes. It was hard to remember they weren’t here together. That the lemonade in Akai’s hand was for someone else. Rei spotted Suzuki Eva near the dance floor, still making eyes at every bachelor ranked earl or higher. Keeping her options open.

He should leave it alone. He knew that. But he couldn’t help himself. Never could, where Akai was concerned.

“The marchioness’s daughter? You’re escorting that nightmare?” Rei asked, too sharply.

Akai’s expression hardened. He slugged back the half-spilled lemonade and set the glass down, grabbing a second with a lazy shrug. “She’s not as bad as her mother.”

Rei scoffed. “Her mother is Medusa, so that’s a low bar.”

Akai smirked, not disagreeing. “That’s my future mother-in-law you’re insulting.”

Rei’s eyes widened. “Your—” But he had to stop there, couldn’t get the rest of it out. He crossed his arms tight over his chest. “I guess you’ve given up on marrying for love.” And no, he shouldn’t have said that word; such a dangerous word, like a fistful of black powder wedged under his ribs.

Akai didn’t even flinch. “It was never about love. I just forgot that for a while.” Glanced at Rei, just to twist the knife, as he said, “Thank you for reminding me.”

His voice was so cold. No, not cold. Hollow. Like something in him had burnt out. Rei watched him walk away, his head pounding with the reek of fallen wisteria blossoms crushed under his feet. Wishing he hadn’t caught a glimpse of the tiny lump in Akai’s pocket—a tight circle, just the right size for an engagement ring.

He was serious. He was going to…tonight…and then…

And then it was really over.

“Psst! Rei!”

Rei’s head snapped around. Shinichi waved urgently to him from where he crouched on the stairs, half-hidden by the dessert table and the ten-tier macaron tower. Rei snatched a glass of weak sherry and moved to lean against the closest marble column, keeping his eyes on the dancers.

“Shinichi. Hey. You okay?” Rei hissed.

Even in the midst of plotting his escape, Shinichi never missed the chance for a flat look. “Are you?” he shot back, glancing pointedly at Akai. Suzuki Eva was receiving her glass of lemonade with so much enthusiasm Rei would have thought it was gin.

“Just some unfinished business,” he insisted, forcing the sick feeling down. “How’s it coming with the safe?”

“I hit a snag.” Shinichi scrunched up his nose. “I knocked out the footman with something the girl at Agasa’s apothecary shop gave me. She said it mimics the symptoms of a hangover. But Uncle Mori’s upstairs in his study, trying to con some of the other lords into investing in his messenger duck business. He says it’s the logical next step from carrier pigeons.”

“It’s not,” Rei muttered. Annoyed all over again that Shinichi had spent even a day of his life at the whims of that buffoon.

The boy peered through the carved banister. “I can get into the safe. But I need a distraction. Something that will bring the viscount to the floor.”

Rei weighed his options. Fire was always good. But there were too many bystanders. And tempting as it was, he probably shouldn’t burn all of London to the ground on his way out. A fight was too small, too easily disrupted by kicking the rabblerousers out. And the court’s perpetual embarrassment, Lord Yamamura, was already making a fool of himself trying to climb into the champagne fountain. So public humiliation was out.

There was really only one thing that made every one of these people stop and stare. A scandal.

Rei’s eyes flickered to Akai. He swallowed.

“I have an idea.”

His thoughts must be all over his face. Shinichi bit his lip, wincing. “Are you sure?”

Rei knew what he was asking. He’d already trashed Akai’s heart. If he did this, after Akai came with someone else, it would trash his reputation too. But he’d done all this for Shinichi—made so many sacrifices. He couldn’t stop now.

And maybe…maybe he wanted to know if that heart was still his. Just one more night.

The lively waltz was ending, all of the lavish couples making their final bows. He could see Eva pulling Akai forward to join the next one. Rei took one deep, steadying breath. Then he marched to the center of the floor—right through the dancers, through the astonished crowd—right up to Akai, and held out his hand.

The violins broke off with a squeak. The Suzuki girl looked livid. Rei stood his ground; chin raised, defiant. Just waiting.

Akai’s eyes flicked behind him, to the boy at the railing, then back to Rei as if he understood everything. As if he knew he was just a spectacle. His mouth twisted in a wry little smile. Then he took Rei’s hand and pulled him onto the floor.

The crowd had backed away, leaving Rei and Akai alone under the wisteria-draped chandelier. No one of good social standing would be caught dead on the dance floor with him right now. Which was fine. Rei didn’t want to switch partners. Didn’t want those hypnotizing green eyes on anyone but him.

Akai tugged him in close. “You’ve got their attention,” he murmured, right into Rei’s ear. “Might as well give them a show.”

He snapped his fingers. The first violinist struck up a new song—a sweet, rising trill, the other violins joining in as Akai dipped his head, and so did Rei, trying to hide the little tremble in his hands.

He knew all the steps so well by now. They’d spent so much of the summer like this, barely six inches apart. Rei wondered how long it would stick with him, every tiny impression. The supple scratch of his fingers in the velvet of Akai’s coat. The glow of the candlelight on his face. The heat of Akai’s hand sliding down from his shoulder, slow and sensual, until he caught Rei’s wrist for a spin.

He hadn’t thought he’d miss it. Most of Rei’s life, dancing was just three interminable minutes of eye contact with whatever boorish lord or lady he hadn’t managed to insult yet. But dancing with Akai…somehow, he could imagine doing that until the last stars faded out. The two of them circled each other, then switched and circled the other way: palms up, barely touching, a quiver of a touch.

Akai cocked an eyebrow. “You learned this one fast.”

“You were relentless,” Rei reminded him. He’d come to court with the basics down, but this was a dance he hadn’t known, one Akai had taught him—practicing in the duke’s sitting room crowded with sharp-edged furniture, Akai’s eyes twinkling every time Rei turned the wrong way and bumped into his chest.

Now, it was effortless. Rei could feel every movement—feel Akai, every millimeter of him, like Akai was a hook in his breastbone, some part of Rei bound to him. It was maddening, how well they fit together, when they were about to split apart.

Footsteps clattered down the steps. The viscount had reached the floor. Over Akai’s shoulder, Rei could see Mori seething at the public spectacle, fists clenched like he wanted to grab Rei by the collar and hurl him out onto the cobblestones. But with the duke beside him, he was untouchable.

Akai’s gaze flitted to the viscount. On the next pass, he pulled Rei in a little closer, held him for a few long seconds pressed back against his chest, their heads tipped until their noses nearly brushed.

“You’re leaving tonight.” It was a statement, not a question. Akai kept hold of his hand as the music spun them apart. “Where will you go?”

Rei gave a tight shrug. “Somewhere he’s safe. Where he can be a kid, not a pawn in political games. One of my father’s ships is waiting in the harbor.” Rei hadn’t warned him; hoped the fallout wouldn’t be too bad for the Hattori family. Though technically, their adopted son was kidnapping a prince of the realm.

Akai chuckled—just a breath, really, a tiny quirk of his lips. “Stealing away, like a thief in the night?”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Rei insisted.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Akai told him, resting Rei’s palm over his heart.

The tempo was rising. The musicians raked their bows across the strings as Rei and Akai stepped apart, back together, Akai half-spinning him and catching him and spinning him until he was lightheaded, his arm around Rei’s waist all that was keeping him up. His balance was shot, every nerve over-sensitized. Rei breathed in against Akai’s shoulder, and the familiar scents hit him hard—sweat and smoke and sweet sandalwood cologne. The scents that still clung to the collar of the burgundy-red coat tucked into the bottom of Rei’s trunk, ragged and stained, that for some reason he couldn’t leave behind.

Suddenly his head was full of memories—every moment of that shining summer he’d spent with Akai. Their first meeting. First fistfight. The first time Akai had ever spun him across the floor like this—red-orange fireworks bursting in a black sky as Akai said, “I asked the musicians to play something lively. You’re a spirited dancer.”

“Spirited?” Rei repeated, annoyed. “I’m not a horse.”

Akai’s eyes glittered. “Should I have said passionate?” he asked. And pulled Rei flush against him on the next turn, just to see if he could get away with it.

The night he’d followed Akai to the Rotten Apple Social Club—a less-than-reputable establishment at the edge of the red-light district, famous for their underground boxing matches between men of status who should know better. Leaned his elbows on the long, lacquered bar to keep an eye on Akai’s fight as he overpayed for a glass of bad whiskey from the blonde proprietress. Not his friend; not really his confidant. Just a woman who seemed to know everything, and would tell you for the right price.

“A little advice about ensnaring a lord,” Vermouth had said, noticing his eyeline to the knot of drunk nobles. “Everyone likes the chase. But in the end, what most of them like is obedience, the acknowledgment of their power over you.”

Rei grimaced. He wasn’t particularly good with obedience. Shouts from the raucous crowd drew his eyes back to the fight—Akai standing tall and silent in the center of the ring, just waiting for his opponent to come to him.

“And the duke?” Rei asked without meaning to. “What does he like?”

Vermouth’s lips split in a viper’s smile. “Ah, well. He likes a challenge.”

That was why Rei pushed off the barstool—shouldered Akai’s next opponent aside, stripped off his shirt and climbed through the ropes into the ring. He’d meant to show off a little and then let Akai win. But in the end, he took it to a draw, mesmerized by this man who could actually keep up with him.

Patching himself up in the keg room afterward, he’d wound up alone with the duke for the first time—Rei’s ears still ringing, his mouth slick with the taste of copper and sweat from licking his split lip. Akai stopped in front of his bench and gripped him just right beneath the jaw, lifted Rei’s head to check his pupils, and Rei let him. Looked up through his lashes and met the fire blazing in those brilliant green eyes.

They were softer tonight. Like his hand on Rei’s waist. Like the tiny, wistful smile on Akai’s lips. Missing something before it was over.

He hadn’t gone looking for any of this. But he wanted it all now, every second of it. Akai’s little smirk whenever Rei refused his hand getting into or out of the carriage. The rush of galloping his white stallion fast through the fields and hedges, Akai’s mount almost fast enough to keep up. The heat of the sun on his back as he and Akai raced flat-bottom boats along the river, and Rei knocked Akai over the side with his pole, seizing the victory. Though of course, that came with the memory of Akai raking his long, wet hair back and wringing his utterly see-through shirt out in front of the entire promenade.

And then, the night Rei had lost it in the rain—escaped from an unbearable dinner party full of unbearable, insipid people who didn’t know where Shinichi was and didn’t care. All Rei had found were scraps: tiny cranes folded from colored paper, and a few servants’ whispers, and the monogrammed handkerchief he’d tied around Shinichi’s scuffed-up knee last summer. Every one of them a reminder of how he was failing.

He only made it halfway to the manor gate before the rain was coming down too fast to see through, forced him to take shelter in a pavilion wreathed in orange trumpet vines. And when Akai found him there, it just poured out of him—the truth about Shinichi, and Mori, the storm pounding around them as Rei fought back his tears.

“He’s out there!” Rei shouted, flinging his hand at the gray, empty streets. “He’s somewhere in this city, locked up—waiting for me, and I just can’t find him…” Broke off as Akai caught him by the neck, held him steady.

“You will,” Akai said, scraping the straggles of wet hair off Rei’s cheek with his thumb. “We will. Let me help you, Rei. Just tell me what you need.” He peeled the dark red coat off his shoulders and put it around Rei’s, the delicate velvet stained with dark splotches.

“It’s not gallant to wrap your coat around me when it’s already soaked,” Rei told him, trying to sound like he meant it.

Akai chuckled. “Gives me an excuse to do this.” As he drew Rei in and pressed him tight against his shoulder, let him hide his face in Akai’s bedraggled silk shirt until he stopped shaking.

Rei had always thought the arms of a lover would feel like a cage. But instead it felt like a fortress, like a place he could take refuge. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing his nose along Akai’s, pulling him into a fevered kiss—and if Lord Megure hadn’t come by right then, looking for his missing guests, it might have been a lot more than that. Rei fell asleep that night with the red coat thrown over the chair beside his bed, still savoring the taste of rain and whiskey on his lips.

Rei could have told him that he’d never meant it, wasn’t seriously interested. But by the time he trusted Akai enough to say it, he wasn’t sure it was true.

Another night, another party. At his mother’s insistence, Akai’s dance card carefully filled with courtesy matches, better matches—and still he’d paused just at the edge of the dance floor to brush his knuckles against Rei’s; even that tiny touch a scandal, a spark that set his skin aflame.

It was dangerous, how badly he wanted this man. There were so many idiotic rules of courtship Rei’d had to memorize and follow, to pull this off. Don’t break etiquette. Don’t correct those of higher standing. Don’t speak to a suitor without a formal introduction. And most of all: Don’t touch. Some relic of propriety and fair play, so no one could stake a claim on him before a formal engagement.

Rei had never been good at playing by the rules. When the music reached a fever pitch, he had dragged Akai out into the shadows of the garden, ripped at his pearl-inlaid buttons as Akai pinned him to the honeysuckle vines.

“I’m not supposed to touch you,” Akai rasped against his throat. “Not until you make your choice.”

“What do you think this is?” Rei growled, as he lunged in for another kiss.

It wasn’t his first time. But it was the first time it’d ever felt like that: like for one blistering moment, he was suddenly, blissfully whole.

The truth was, he’d loved it. Every infuriating moment of falling for Akai. Rei wanted that feeling—that fire that burned him from the inside out, the one only Akai could ignite—every minute for the rest of his life.

He’d stumbled in from the garden breathless, elated, trying to fasten all of Akai’s buttons before anyone asked questions. That was when he’d caught his first glimpse of Shinichi all summer—being dragged through the foyer by Mori Kogoro. And realized, as Akai asked the viscount how he’d fared in the weekend’s derby races, that Akai could only pry open the door to this world because he was still in it.

Rei couldn’t have them both.

They’d had one more weekend—one precious weekend when Akai had whisked him and Shinichi away to his estate, because no mere viscount could refuse a duke’s invitation. He would never forget the feeling as Shinichi scrambled out of the carriage and threw his arms around Rei’s waist—and then abandoned him two seconds later for Masumi’s basset hound puppy. Or the solid thwock as Shinichi wound up his croquet mallet and caught Akai on the backswing, right in the chin, and made Rei laugh so hard he nearly coughed up a lung.

Rei won croquet, thanks to the minor concussion. Akai won at darts, and Shinichi snookered them both in pool, the little scamp. Coming back to the library with peppermint sticks, he’d stumbled on Akai and Shinichi tucked up over a chessboard, trading pawns while Akai told his story of playing Deschappelles at the Café de la Régence in Paris and losing in thirteen moves. Rei had to take a minute and lean back against the wall, an ache in his chest so deep and fierce he couldn’t get anything down that night. A glimpse of a life that could never be.

The song was almost over. Rei could feel the last notes coming, the seconds on the clock ticking down. Akai hooked him by the waist and dragged him into one long spin. Not even spinning, really—just walking a tight circle, staring deep into his eyes.

Keep your heart out of it. That’s how Rei had lived his whole life, growing up in the alleys and gutters. No one owed him anything, and he expected nothing from them. No one could break him, if they couldn’t pry him open.

That’s what he was now—wide open, utterly vulnerable. Just as much a fool as everyone else at this party, wanting things he couldn’t have.

Another image, just as vivid as the memories: Akai ten years from now, still a bachelor, slung into his low chair in the library, sipping scotch by the fireplace as he told Shukichi’s children about a blond with flashing blue eyes, the one who got away…

And Rei? Where would he be? Happy, halfway around the world? Or looking on as Shinichi fell in love, a strange throb under his skin, remembering the rush of heat from this hand pressed to his cheek…

Shinichi had reappeared at the top of the stairs. Rei could see his little vest puffed out, stuffed with stolen papers. Akai saw him too. He gave the boy a subtle nod. Shinichi nodded back and then ducked toward the rear stairs—taking advantage of the distraction to slip out and meet Rei at the stables, like they’d promised.

Akai turned to Rei. “I think that’s the clock chiming midnight, Cinderella,” he said, as he lifted Rei’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of his knuckles. Unmistakably a goodbye.

The moment snapped into sudden focus. This wasn’t just a show. This was Rei’s life. This was his heart, and Akai’s heart, splattered on the dance floor for these high-society piranhas to feast on. When he stepped out of this moment, it would be over—forever. And Akai was going to stand there with that tragic look on his face and let it happen.

Rei’s eyes were wet. He blinked hard, Akai wavering a little against the ballroom lights.

“So that’s it?” he asked softly. “You’re just going to let me go?”

Akai’s jaw fell open. “Rei—”

Rei didn’t wait to hear it. He tore his hand out of Akai’s and ran—through the buzzing crowd, down the echoing corridor and out into the courtyard. Torches flickered and hissed down the colonnade leading to the carriage drive. Rei turned for the stables, but a hand seized him first, wrenching him around.

Akai had come after him. His eyes were wild, his grip vise-tight on Rei’s shoulders.

“Rei, what did that mean?” he demanded. “What do you mean, letting you go?”

Rei choked on a laugh. “This! You pursue me relentlessly, consume me, shove yourself under my skin until you’re so deep inside of me I’ll never get you out, and now—now you give up?”

Akai shook his head in bewilderment. “I didn’t realize I had another choice.” He let go of Rei’s shoulders, his mouth bent in a strange, bittersweet smile. “You always speak of love like you’re losing a battle. But how can that be, when I’m the one utterly defeated by you?”

His eyes were too sincere. Rei had to look down, at the wisteria petals clinging to their boots. “Trust me. You’ve had me on the ropes a few times, too.” He took a ragged breath. “Do you still want me?”

“Yes,” Akai said, without hesitation.

“Then do something!” Rei threw a hand toward the gleaming manor. “We’re prisoners here. I can’t be a duke’s consort, and I can’t let Shinichi be a pawn to every lord who wants his money. You’re the one with all the power and influence. Give me another option!”

“If I did, would you take it?” Akai asked—too close, stepping in until he was all Rei could see.

“Obviously,” Rei snapped, as if his heart wasn’t in his throat.

Akai caught his face in both hands, tipping it up. “Because you want the same thing I do.”

“Because I—” Rei stumbled on the important word. The word he’d never said to anyone. “Because leaving you is agony,” he whispered, hoping that would be enough.

But Akai refused to read between the lines—just kept coming, relentless, cornering him against a wisteria column. “Do you want this?” He snagged Rei’s chin. “Do you love me?”

“Yes!” Rei shouted. “Yes, I love you. Honestly, do you need me to spell out every little—”

He lost the rest as Akai kissed him. Not a kiss—more like Akai was devouring him, pressing him back against the pillar and swallowing Rei’s startled little moan. He tasted just like Rei remembered, like whiskey and salt and delicious heat. Rei fisted his hand in Akai’s ponytail and kissed back just as fiercely—so relieved to feel that fire again, to know he hadn’t put it out.

The clack of hooves on the gravel jerked him out of it. A white horse was trotting toward them down the carriage drive—a horse with a scrawny kid clinging to its halter, his feet nearly lifting off the ground as the stallion spotted Rei and picked up speed.

“Shinichi!” Rei ducked out of Akai’s arms, jogging to meet him and catching the horse’s lead. “What are you doing? You were supposed to wait—”

“I don’t think we can wait anymore,” the boy told him breathlessly. He pointed over Rei’s shoulder.

The windows of the manor were full of lords and ladies watching in astonishment—and barreling down the colonnade toward them was Mori Kogoro himself, his furious eyes fixed on Shinichi.

“He’ll have the constables after you.” Akai helped Rei swing into the saddle, and then lifted Shinichi onto the horse in front of him, caught Rei’s wrist on the reins. “Ride for the port. Don’t let anyone stop you. If I’m not there in an hour, just go—but I may have an idea.”

“So you can be useful, when you apply yourself,” Rei snipped. Still he hesitated, taking one last, long look into those jade-green eyes. “Don’t let your brilliant idea get you locked up in the Tower.”

“Well, if it does, I’ll expect a dashing rescue,” Akai said, throwing Shinichi a wink. Then Mori Kogoro was on them, and Rei dug his heels in and took off—Shinichi bouncing in front of him, clinging to Rei’s arm as they galloped through the iron gate and out into the night, leaving the gawkers and the gossip-mongers and the glittering court behind. Far at his back, Rei swore he heard some drunks cheering.

Another carriage was rolling in the gates just as Rei hurtled out—not just a carriage, but a towering coach trimmed with satin and gold, surrounded by an entourage of stiffly uniformed footmen. They shouted at him to halt, but Rei just sped up, bursting through the guards on horseback and banking around the corner.

“That’s the queen’s carriage!” Shinichi gaped, craning his head to look behind them. “A few of the footmen are coming after us!”

Rei blew his wild hair out of his face. “Don’t worry. No one rides like I do. And no one’s taking you from me ever again,” he promised, squeezing the boy tight. Then he leapt the hedge and careened into the night, daring the demons of Hell itself to catch him.

* * *

No hour had ever passed so slowly as the one Rei spent standing in the shadows of the docks, waiting for Akai. His nerves were shot, every creaking cart and shout from the dockworkers sounding like the Night Watch coming after them. He kept telling Shinichi everything was fine, but it was clear even the eight-year-old wasn’t buying it.

The great clock that hung over the harbor was down to five minutes from midnight when Akai finally appeared on the stone bridge. Rei didn’t know why he’d taken the time to change into his riding half-cloak and his sleek top hat. Though he did look annoyingly good like that. Shinichi ran for him as he swung down from his horse.

“Did you have to escape from the Royal Guard?” the boy asked.

Akai chuckled, hooking his reins loosely over the bridge post. “No. Though I did have to do some explaining about why Rei tried to run Her Majesty off the road.”

Rei scoffed. “Oh, I aimed for the footmen.”

“Are you accusing the queen of exaggerating?” Akai deadpanned. His bright eyes gave the game away, though. “Actually, it was a stroke of good luck—your near collision added credence to my story that you were at that moment engaged in rescuing Shinichi from a plot to assassinate him.”

Rei threw him a withering look. “Assassins, really? That was your big idea?”

Akai didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. “Bored royals find assassins very compelling. And it’s easy to foil an assassination you’ve invented.”

Shinichi bit his lip. “But…what about Uncle Mori? He knows that didn’t happen.”

Akai’s smile turned sharp. “Mori won’t be a problem anymore. The viscount has certain, significant gambling debts he owes to the derby club run by my mother. I just told him we could forget those old debts…or I could help her remember.” Akai ran his fingers through Shinichi’s hair, smirking as he mussed that little cowlick. “At that point, he was pretty happy to get rid of you. Especially once I told the queen that the viscount was working as an agent of mine, keeping you safe while I tracked down certain rogue criminal elements, and he should be richly rewarded.”

There was something fundamentally irritating about Mori Kogoro being rewarded for all his scheming and money-grubbing. But if he was out of Shinichi’s life, Rei would take it.

 “So…who is his guardian?” he asked, a little wary of the answer.

Akai’s eyes went soft. “You are, Rei.” He looked down into Shinichi’s hopeful face. “You were right—any family at court might try to use him for influence. But you won’t. Until he turns twenty-one, he’s yours.”

Rei couldn’t breathe. It felt like if he so much as breathed, the illusion would break, and he’d lose this thing he’d wanted for so long. But Akai’s gaze was warm and steady. Rei blinked back the prickle in his eyes.

“He’s mine?”

Akai nodded.

Shinichi wrapped both of his little hands around Rei’s, staring up at him. “Please, Rei? You don’t have to take me, if you don’t want to. But I’m really rich. And I won’t be any trouble.”

Rei gave a wet chuckle, crouching down so he could meet Shinichi’s eyes. “You are going to be so much trouble,” he said fondly. “You’ve already been through a kidnapping and an inheritance scheme. You’re practically royalty—that’s always trouble. And if you have even a fraction of your mother’s good looks, in a few years, you’re going to be breaking hearts and stirring up trouble all over town. And I am going to be right there, getting you out of it every time.”

Shinichi’s face split into a grin. “Unless you’re the one getting me into it. Technically, you committed that kidnapping.”

Rei pinched his nose for being cheeky.

Akai dropped his top hat onto Shinichi’s head. “Congrats, kid. You got a good one.”

The smile on Shinichi’s face lit him up like the sun. Rei swore he’d never take that smile for granted. He scooped Shinichi up into his arms and stood, holding the small boy tight as he faced Akai.

“So, that’s it? Just like that?” he asked. Afraid to trust it.

Akai nodded his chin toward the horses. “We do have to get back to the estate and sign a few things to make it official. Best to do that sooner rather than later, before the queen changes her mind. There’s just one last thing first.” Then he knelt onto the cobblestones, fishing in his pocket and holding out a sparkling sapphire ring.

Rei’s breath hitched in his throat. “Akai…”

Akai’s eyes twinkled. “Her Majesty was a little skeptical about Shinichi’s guardian being a bachelor. I promised her you weren’t.”

“So, all you need is to accept a proposal,” Shinichi said brightly, looking twice as cheeky in his stolen hat.

“Turncoat,” Rei grumbled. His heart was pounding so fast he felt dizzy, his body tingling as Akai caught his left hand and pressed his lips to Rei’s fourth finger, right below the knuckle.

“From the moment we met, you set fire to me,” Akai murmured into his skin. “I want to lose myself in the heat of you—every part of you. Let me spend a lifetime burning with you.”

“I’m not sure that’s an appropriate proposal for little ears.” But Rei knew he was smiling—the crooked half-smile he couldn’t fake.

He could feel Shinichi watching him with big eyes, hoping he’d say yes. Rei raked his fingers into Akai’s bangs, toying with one of the little flyaways.

“It could only ever be you,” he whispered. “I could meet you in a thousand lifetimes, and no matter how I fought it, I know I would fall for you every time.” He flipped his hair back, eyes bright. “Now put that on my finger already, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Akai did. Then he rose and pulled Rei in for a kiss—not as intense as the last one, but still enough to make Shinichi give a very heartfelt “Eww.” Rei pecked a kiss onto the boy’s cheek too, just to embarrass him.

“Everyone’s going to be so jealous,” Shinichi told Rei, as they started the ride back. “You made the best match of the season, nabbing a duke.”

“An ex-duke, actually,” Akai corrected, turning back in the saddle. “Her Majesty felt a duke tied to a cousin of the royal family would have too much political power. So I’ve had to take a step down, rank-wise.” He chuckled at the looks on their faces. “Shukichi will be a little surprised to wake up and learn he’s inherited the title. It’ll only help him win that Miyamoto girl, though. I think she’ll like being a duchess. And more importantly, she and my mother can keep each other busy squabbling for power.” His eyes flitted to Rei. “Still want to marry me?”

Rei pressed his lips together, playing coy. “Hmm. What do you think, Shinichi? Should I hold out for a real duke?”

Shinichi grinned. “Well…he’s a pretty good chess player. And he got Masumi a puppy. Plus, he seems to like you a lot.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Rei mused. Pleased by the way Akai’s pupils flared when Rei looked at him through half-lidded eyes. Embarrassing things said in public aside, Rei didn’t hate the idea that he could set this man aflame.

They spent the ride back getting their story straight about the assassination attempt. As they rode through the gates of the Mori estate—no, the Kudou estate, and Rei would be throwing that viscount out on his ass—he noticed the crowd waiting up ahead. Some of them were at least pretending to be headed for their carriages, but most were just rubber-necking.

“After the wedding, we will have to leave the Ton for a while, until the talk dies down,” Akai said.

Rei snorted. “Good riddance. I hate all these people.”

“Pretty sure they hate you back,” Shinichi informed him, pointing at the Suzuki family. Eva looked well and truly moved on, from how aggressively she was flirting with Marquess Shiratori. Her mother was definitely plotting Rei’s murder, though.

Rei told himself not to be petty. But as he walked through the crowd on Akai’s arm, he flashed the engagement ring in a way that flicked up his middle finger too.

What was the point of being the infamous new-money heartbreaker, after all, if he couldn’t stir up a little scandal?