14

Julien was relieved Ilya had fallen asleep because one glance at the way he was eating that chocolate bar had led to a very obvious bulge in his jeans. He was appalled at his lack of self-control. Though when did his dick ever listen to him? He'd have liked to claim he was confused about the way he felt, but he wasn't. He knew what he wanted.

Though that didn't mean he was going to do anything about it. He could give in to his attraction. He was pretty sure Ilya would be happy about that. But it wouldn't be doing either of them any favours because Julien was an obligated man, and though technically that lasted only another month, happily walking away into the sunset wasn't going to happen. All Lors had to do was threaten Julien's parents and he'd do whatever was asked of him. And did he really want to get tangled in Mikhail Morozov's world? He'd be running from one whirlwind towards another.

There could be no happy ever after, living in a little cottage next to the sea, with an all's-well-with-the-world ending for either him or Ilya.

But for the time being there could be. Make the most of the opportunity. You want him. He wants you. What's the problem?

Julien couldn't afford to listen to that voice in his head—the one echoed by his dick. He was hoping the sensible part of his brain would chime in, but it didn't. He was relieved Ilya hadn't mentioned the phone sex. It hadn't mattered that Ilya had been lying in a hospital bed, though it should have. It hadn't even been phone sex. Not really. Ilya had done most of the talking and Julien hadn't been able to help himself. Or rather, he had helped himself.

He'd dismissed the thought of monitors on Ilya's chest and thought about his lean, barely defined body with those tight dark nipples. He had hardly any body hair. There was something almost androgynous about him. Julien didn't even understand why that appealed, but it did. Christ, he'd come so hard, his vision had blurred.

Then he'd avoided him, not gone back to the hospital to see him because it couldn't happen again. It could but it shouldn't. He had needed to make sure the house they were heading to was clean, aired out and stocked up, but the world wouldn't have ended if he hadn't.

He needed to stop thinking about Ilya and instead concentrate on the mess he was in. They were in. By now, Lors would know he'd left the Battersea flat but not that he'd abandoned it. Julien had left some of his clothes but the guy wasn't stupid. Julien didn't have to live there. Do I need to complete the last month? The answer was probably yes, even knowing what might follow.

Something had to change. Maybe Ilya was the catalyst he'd needed and another way would reveal itself. If it didn't, well, Julien's luck would run out eventually and he'd end up dead or in prison. He wasn't going to take anyone down with him. Not if he could help it.

He spent the entire journey trying to figure out what to do. Only when he pulled into the village of Comberford, did his heart lighten a little. This was his safe place. No one knew about it. Apart from Ilya now. He had an agreement with the owner that kept his name off all rental documentation. He'd made up a story about a stalker and whether he'd been believed or not, didn't matter. Driftwood Cottage was his haven and he wanted it to be Ilya's too.

Julien had a plan. He was going to leave Ilya there. He wouldn't even contact Lors from anywhere in the vicinity. He'd get Ilya settled in, then drive back to London and make the call. The guy would have no reason to doubt Julien's excuse of lying low because of the way Cheng had fucked things up by contacting Morozov. All he needed to do was persuade Lors he really had no idea of the whereabouts of Ilya. Though once Lors knew he'd left Battersea, he'd wonder where he'd gone and he'd expect to be told.

Ilya woke when Julien switched off the engine.

"Hmm, yum,"

Ilya muttered.

Don't ask.

"I was dreaming of a McDonald's,"

Ilya said. "Where are we?"

"A village in Essex called Comberford. Population less than two thousand."

"Does it have a McDonald's?"

Julien was almost taken in. "And a Wetherspoons."

"You are so sardonic."

"That's a big word and I think you mean sarcastic."

"Here's a couple of little words. Fuck you."

Julien laughed.

Ilya glanced around and his face lit up. "It looks lovely. Your real home. Near the sea?"

"Walkable. But not so near that I worry about the place getting washed away. Plus, I rent it, not own it."

Ilya exited the car and as Julien got out, Ilya came round to his side.

"Thank you,"

Ilya whispered. Then he hugged him. "Thank you for helping me. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for having sex with me."

Julien left his arms hanging. "You have been dreaming."

"And a lovely dream it was too."

Ilya had his head against his shoulder and Julien could smell the familiar scent of a hospital. He felt as if the world was spinning by without him. Ilya could live here after he'd gone, he'd find someone to make him happy and maybe Julien would have done at least one good thing in the last few years. As he was on the point of hugging Ilya back, Ilya stepped away.

"I forgot my medicine."

He grabbed it from the backseat and headed for the front door. "Hurry up, I'm freezing."

Julien unlocked the door, then returned to the car to get the few extra things he'd bought. When he went into the cottage, Ilya was standing by the bookshelf.

"Is this the real you?"

Ilya asked. "Napoleon, Ice climbs, The Complete Guide to Baking, Journeys of a Lifetime, War Poetry and Hot Texas Cowboys?"

Julien laughed. "There isn't a book about Texas Cowboys."

"There should be. Phwoar. Oh, you like psychological suspense. I'm good at that. Creating it, not writing it. And thrillers. I've read all of Tom Wood's. I love Victor. Though I'd run a mile if I met him."

Victor was the cold and deadly assassin Tom Wood had created. "Running a mile wouldn't be enough."

Ilya chuckled. "No, you're right."

He turned in a circle. "This is very nice. A comfortable-looking couch, wood-burning stove, TV, modern kitchen… How many bedrooms?"

"Two."

"Damn. Well, there's the terrible flaw. There should only be one. I said that just in case you thought I was thinking there should be three."

Julien turned to hide his smile and unpacked the additional food he'd bought. "Hungry?"

"A bit."

"What about soup?"

"Not pea and ham. Or mushroom. Or chicken. Or cream of anything. Oh God. There are a lot of soups I don't like."

"I made minestrone yesterday. No cream."

Ilya came to his side. "You made it? I love minestrone."

"I've just put a granary loaf in the bread bin. We can have that with it."

Julien took the container of soup out of the fridge and tipped it into a saucepan. "What was the hospital food like?"

"Edible. Mostly. Not always recognisable though."

"Have you ever been in hospital before?"

"No. Have you? I mean as a patient because I have been wondering if you were once a doctor. Either that or a taxidermist."

"I've been in hospital a couple of times."

He stirred the soup. "There are bowls in that top cupboard. Spoons in the drawer."

"Were you a doctor?"

Bloody pest. "Stir the soup. I need to check if there were any parcels delivered."

He did want to check but he also needed a moment to think. Questions like that chipped away at the barrier he'd erected.

Julien went outside, opened the door to the woodstore and found a pile of Amazon boxes. He picked them up and went back into the cottage to find Ilya pouring the soup into bowls.

They sat at the old wooden table to eat and Julien cut two chunks of bread.

"This is delicious,"

Ilya said. "You're not just a pretty face. Well, you're not a pretty face at all. You're ruggedly handsome. Even with the convict haircut, 24601."

Julien smiled. That was Jean Valjean's prisoner number from Victor Hugo's novel, Les Misérables.

"Have you decided whether you were a doctor or not?"

"Once upon a time, I was. Okay? Now leave it."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Oh God.

"Have you decided if you like men or not?"

Julien's spoon clattered into his bowl. He picked it up and carried on eating. He could just say no. His chest was tight and the words he wanted to say sat on his lips, that he was straight, that he'd just been horny, except inside all that was a lie.

"Am I not allowed to ask you anything?"

Ilya whispered.

"Would you stop asking questions if I told you to?"

"I'd think them instead and slowly go mad when there were no answers. Are there no safe questions? I'm going to find it hard to not ask some things, such as would you like a coffee? Or where are the toilet rolls?"

Talk about something else. Don't think about the hunger inside you that has nothing to do with food.

Julien sighed. "I had a brother. He died."

That was all it needed to break the magic and bring blackness back.

"Oh, no. I'm sorry. I… Was he older than you? Younger?"

"Younger."

"Are your parents alive?"

"Yes."

"Where do they live?"

"France."

He'd wanted them to move to the UK, but that hadn't happened. But then, Lors could get to them wherever they were. "You want more bread?"

"No thank you. I'm full."

"Try and finish the soup."

Ilya picked up his spoon again.

"Those Amazon boxes are for you,"

Julien told him.

"Me? All of them, Santa?"

"Yes."

"What have you bought me?"

"When you've finished all your soup, you can open them."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Or I can send them back."

Ilya smirked and kept eating. "Can we go for a walk on the beach?"

"Not too far but yes."

"Will you hold my hand?"

Julien gave a heavy sigh. "No."

"What if I get lost?"

"Like me to insert a tracker?"

Ilya muttered something that Julien didn't catch and he thought it wise not to ask him to repeat it.

They washed up together and when everything had been put away, he offered Ilya a knife.

Ilya didn't take it. "What's that for?"

"To open the boxes."

"Oh. Right."

"Easier than scissors."

Julien started a fire going.

Ilya sat on the rug and picked up a box. "Who's Nick Farmer?"

"When I'm here, me."

"I'll remember that if anyone comes."

"No one's going to come."

"Postman? Local vicar? Neighbours? God squad? Burglar?"

"No."

"You can't be sure a burglar won't come."

"And you're going to have a conversation with him or her?"

"I might."

"Don't make me sigh again."

Ilya laughed.

"If anything's not right, it can be sent back."

"Not like Santa Claus at all! Did you get lots of presents at Christmas?"

"No."

The last Christmas present he'd been given had been a mug from his brother. On the side, which looked as though it was dripping with blood, it said ‘I'd find you more interesting if you were under general anaesthetic.'

"Ohhhh."

Julien turned to see the box Ilya had opened held rolls of silver wire in a variety of gauges. "I wasn't sure what you'd need."

The fire was burning fiercely so he sat on the couch and watched Ilya open the other boxes. Pliers of all shapes and sizes, wire cutters, soldering material and a whole lot of other stuff that Julien had guessed he might want. Ilya was quiet and Julien wondered if he'd got it wrong, bought equipment for a beginner when Ilya was an expert. Maybe the wire wasn't even right.

If Ilya didn't say something soon, Julien was… Ilya moved so fast, Julien didn't have time to react. The brat threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight. And Julien still couldn't hug him back. Was afraid to, in case he couldn't let him go.

When Ilya released him and moved away, his eyes were brimming. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Apart from you stopping that guy from killing me. And you taking me to the hospital. I'm keeping track. Thank you so much."

"I looked up the place where you worked and made some guesses. I wanted you to have something to do."

When I'm not here.

"Other than pester you?"

Ilya brushed the back of his hand over his eyes.

"That might have had something to do with it."

"What's in the other boxes?"

"Look and see."

He'd bought Ilya walking boots and socks, a waterproof jacket, fleece hat and gloves.

"Now we can go for a walk on the beach,"

Ilya said. "And I'm going to hold your hand in case you get lost."

Julien laughed. He should have been pissed off. There was no way he was holding Ilya's hand as they walked, but he still laughed.

Ilya put on the new things and Julien wished he'd bought him something more colourful. Ilya was too bright for grey and navy blue, too pretty, too wild.

"Everything fits perfectly. Thank you. I'll pay you back. Pounds, euros or dollars? What's the best exchange rate you can offer for the last two?"

"No need to pay me."

Julien changed into his walking gear and locked the house as they left.

They crossed over the sand dunes to the beach, and Ilya gasped. "Why would you ever want a place in London if you could live here. It's beautiful."

But cold. The tide was out and the wind was driving the sand towards them along the beach. It looked like they were wading through some strange twisty streams of biting mist. There was no one around. This stretch was quite a way from the place where the tourists stayed, and on a day like today, not even dogwalkers were out. Ilya made no move to take his hand and Julien was almost disappointed. Because I'm an idiot.

When they rounded the edge of the bay, the wind dropped. Ilya shouted "Yippee!"

and strode off towards the water. Julien followed. How could he be so enthusiastic about everything? Was I ever like that? Julien's life had not turned out as he'd hoped, but he could still look for things to enjoy. He was looking at one now.

Ilya bent to pick something up and ran back to show him.

"Cockle shell,"

Julien said. "If you looked through a magnifying glass, counted the number of ridges, then divided it by 365, you'd know how old it was. Each day it grows a new ridge."

"Wow. You're a good person to beachcomb with. What's that?"

"A mermaid's purse. And no, before you ask, not an actual mermaid's purse. It's the egg case of a dogfish or catshark."

"There's a catshark?"

Ilya widened his eyes.

"The smallest variety of shark in the UK."

He bent to pick up the egg case.

"What if it's got a shark in it?"

"Most of them are empty. This one is."

He tossed it away. "The darker ones with horns are the egg cases of—"

"Demons?"

Ilya's face lit up.

"That would be interesting but no. Skates or rays."

"How come you know so much about the beach?"

"I… I was just interested when I was younger. We lived near the sea in France."

He'd been pestered with so many questions by Sébastien that he'd bought a book so he could give him the right answers. It hurt to think how close he and Sébastien had been and what his brother had chosen not to tell him.

"I never went to the sea when I lived in England. In school holidays I was generally taken back to Russia, to Moscow, so nowhere near the sea. St Petersburg has beaches, but the water's too cold to tempt me to swim. The summers aren't exactly tropical. Oh, what's that?"

"A whelk egg case."

Julien picked it up to show him. "Each of these small spaces contain lots of eggs, but the first whelk to hatch in each pouch eats the rest."

"Yuck. Survival tactics, I suppose, but nature can be cruel. Then again, so can humans."

"Shall we turn round? I don't want you to do too much."

"Something energetic planned for later?"

Oh God. "You need to rest."

"I just want to go as far as the water."

It was a grey day and the sea looked sludgy and unappealing but Julien followed him down to the water. Ilya waited until his boots were about to get wet, then scuttled back laughing. He was like a little kid, jumping then shrieking as one wave surged further up the beach than the rest.

"Play with me!"

Ilya called. "First one with wet feet has to carry the other one back."

No way could Ilya carry him, but Julien played the game and found that he was having fun timing his retreat to avoid the rush of water.

Neither of them wet their boots and he couldn't help wondering if Ilya had intended to and lost his nerve.

They headed back. Julien had never walked with anyone on this beach before. He'd seen it with new eyes. He'd been used to thinking of it as just for him but he didn't regret sharing it with Ilya.

"Tired?"

Julien asked.

"A bit. I just remembered I have a present for you if you packed all my stuff."

"I put in all I could find."

"I didn't buy as much in the shopping centre as I'd intended. I didn't feel very well so I went back and sort of collapsed into bed. If you hadn't… Thank you for coming back. I want to keep thanking and thanking you."

"I shouldn't have left you. I should have been checking for infection. You could have ended up having to have limbs amputated. One of them. All of them. You could have died. Sepsis is really serious."

Ilya blinked. "Aren't you a ray of sunshine!"

Julien bit his lip.

"The nurses told me I was lucky. The right time in my life for that to be the case. I was lucky you came back. I've been a lot of trouble, I know."

"Even more trouble if you were dead. The risk of you blocking my drain…"

Ilya grinned and Julien's heart lightened.