"But it's partly your fault," Jeremy muttered.

Tyler stiffened. It was all very well blaming himself but he didn't need Jeremy doing it too. "I warned you what he was like, I told you not to go back."

"Prescott told Gerald he could do what he liked in the room downstairs because you hadn't turned up."

The f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d. "You should have walked out."

Jeremy glared at him. "I needed the money and I didn't know he'd follow me home and rape me." He flinched. "Christ, my b.u.t.t." He dropped back on the bed and curled up.

"You ought to go to the police."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, like that's going to do any good."

Tyler suspected he was right.

"I'm so confused and I b.l.o.o.d.y hurt." Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Tyler squeezed his hand. "Well, at least it's over now. Forget you ever met Prescott and Gerald."

"I can't," he said with a low moan. "I need the money. A thousand quid. That's huge."

Worth getting raped for? Tyler felt mean that he wished Jeremy had used some of it to go to a hotel.

"I don't want anything else to do with Gerald." He pinned Tyler with his lopsided teary gaze. "I need a rich boyfriend like yours."

Tyler sucked in his cheeks. "Did you say anything about me to Prescott?"

"No, just that you weren't coming. He asked if I knew where you were and I said I didn't."

Do I believe him? He knew better than to trust anyone, particularly someone so desperate for money. Was Prescott waiting outside? He'd been an idiot to come back here. But he looked at Jeremy's battered face and sighed.

"Can I stay here?"

Tyler nodded.

Jeremy sat up and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, his fingers shaking. "I can pay rent."

Tyler winced. "I thought you meant just tonight?"

"I can't go back. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d knows where I live. I...I don't want to go back. I don't want to remember what... I won't be a nuisance. I can sleep on the floor. I'll buy a blowup mattress. You won't know I'm here."

Tyler smothered a groan. "There's barely enough room for one bed, let alone two. Have mine. I might not be here much." Unless Haris kicked him out. "I need to go."

"Don't leave me on my own tonight. Please."

Jeremy sounded so desperate that Tyler sighed, toed off his shoes and lay down on the other side of the bed. "I can't stay long."

Jeremy took off his boots and curled up facing Tyler, quickly falling into an exhausted sleep. Tyler pulled the covers over him and left his spare set of keys on the counter. He wasn't happy about letting Jeremy stay but what choice did he have? Tyler knew what it was like to feel lonely and afraid.

He called a cab, arranged a pick up for a street away and spent several minutes staring out of the window before he left. Not that he was paranoid-much-but it didn't seem wise to just waltz outside without checking to see if anyone was watching. He didn't know that Prescott knew where he lived, but he suspected he did. He hoped the guy had enough sense not to tell Gerald. Tyler exited through the back door and used the wheelie bin to climb onto the wall. He dropped his bag on the other side and then jumped, holding his acoustic guitar.

By the time he reached Holland Park, it was nearly seven. He left everything in the hall and took off his shoes and jacket before he crept up the stairs. As he tiptoed past Haris's door, it opened. Haris stood there in a black dressing gown, fury written all over his face. s.h.i.t.

"Where the f.u.c.k have you been?"

"A friend needed my help."

"What friend? What help?"

Tyler bristled at Haris's sharp tone. "It has nothing to do with you. You're not buying my life. I told you that."

"I'm buying your exclusivity which means you don't f.u.c.k off in the middle of the night without telling me."

Tyler stuck his hands in his pockets. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"You mean you thought you'd get back without me having realized you'd gone."

"That was the plan."

"Then it's not wrong to conclude I wouldn't be happy if you'd told me what you were up to."

No matter how Tyler played this, it wouldn't look good. "No, but I told you a friend needed my help."

"What friend?"

"Just a friend."

"Did you f.u.c.k him? Did he f.u.c.k you?"

"No and no." Tyler stared straight at him, and then started to chew his lip. He was simultaneously p.i.s.sed off that Haris was jealous and also a little flattered, but he didn't need this sort of aggravation. "I've told you the truth. I've brought my stuff with me. Want me to take it back?"

"Do what you like." He slammed the door in Tyler's face.

Chapter Eleven.

Haris sat in his study, staring at his laptop. After Tyler had left his bed last night, he'd lain frozen in disappointment. He hadn't pushed about the dream, but it wasn't hard to conclude that's what had upset him. Before he could pull himself together enough to go upstairs and attempt to put things right, he'd heard Tyler sneak down and then the quiet click of the door. His heart had pounded as he ran up to Tyler's room. He expected to see everything he'd bought him gone, but it hadn't been. Though that didn't mean Tyler intended to return.

Plans to start the day in bed, reading the Sunday papers, drinking coffee, eating croissant and having s.e.x-and not in that order-faded as he'd waited sleeplessly for morning. He'd been through an endless series of emotions and unfortunately Tyler had reappeared while he was stuck in fury mode. He'd spent a long time there, seething and raging, and it looked like he'd be in a bad temper for a while yet. All he'd done was ask a b.l.o.o.d.y question. What was he supposed to think when the guy stayed out all night?

Tyler had shut himself in the room with the piano, mumbling about working on some college a.s.signment, and Haris had retreated to his office to sulk.

How could everything fall apart so fast? Yesterday, he'd enjoyed himself more than he had in years, and now he was more miserable than he'd been in...a long while. It came down to trust. It was almost an impossible thing for him to do. He didn't trust. Period. It was part of the reason for the contract, an attempt to control things and make Tyler think twice, but looked like it hadn't worked. He wanted to believe Tyler, but was that want strong enough to blind him to the obvious?

He picked up his phone and called Stan Deeds.

"Haris, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks." No, I'm f.u.c.king not.

"What can I do for you?"

"Something personal. Wilson suspects we've been followed on a few occasions by a white Fiat."

"Ah. License plate? Description of driver? How long has it been going on?"

"No idea on the first two. A couple of weeks."

Stan sighed. "Know how many white Fiats there are? You want me to watch you to see if anyone's following?"

"Yes. I'll call and tell you when we're going out."

"Is there a reason someone would follow you?"

Haris paused.

"I'll take that as a yes," Stan said. "Want to elaborate?"

Haris kept silent.

"I'll take that as a no."

"One more thing." Haris's heart pounded. Once he'd set this in motion, there was no going back. "I need a full background check on a Tyler Bellamy. Third year student at Trinity Music College in Greenwich. He was in local authority care from the age of seven." Or so he'd said. "It's important he doesn't find out anyone's been asking."

Stan tsked. "You know me better than that. I'll be in touch."

Haris told himself he had no choice. It was in his nature to obtain every detail he could about a...project. He was adept at seeking out weakness, uncovering secrets, exposing the truth. If Tyler was lying to him, he didn't stand a chance.

He could hear him playing but didn't recognize the piece. He wanted to sit and watch him, but the mood they were both in, that might not be a good idea. So he buried himself in his work as he usually did on Sundays and tried to forget how he'd hoped everything would be different with Tyler there.

By late afternoon, hunger drove Tyler away from the piano. The instrument was a pleasure to play and the thought of owning it if he managed the whole four months was a considerable incentive to stick it out. Then again, he hadn't expected Haris to be so...difficult, though he'd spent most of his life dealing with difficult people, so how bad could Haris be? His stomach rumbled as he made his way to the kitchen. He halted with his hand on the doork.n.o.b when he heard the voice coming from inside.

"Don't you dare, you bad boy," Wilson said. "If you don't behave, then I won't let you have it. And you really want it, don't you? Well, come here then. Come and get it. Take it gently."

Tyler frowned. What was he doing?

"Oh you're so soft. You like that, don't you? Is that the place? Yes. Going to give me a lick?"

He'd listened to enough. Tyler turned and walked into Haris's chest.

"Who's he talking to?" Haris whispered.

Tyler opened his mouth and shut it again.

"Get that wet nose out of my crotch," Wilson said. "No, licking my ear doesn't work...oooh."

Haris pushed open the door and Wilson sprang to his feet. He held a small, scruffy, pathetic-looking dog which had one ear up and the other down. Tyler smothered his laugh.

"He followed me home, sir." Wilson put the dog on the floor. "I was helpless to resist. It was the way he looked at me and attempted to wag his tail. Don't worry about him being dirty, I've given him a bath, administered flea treatment and was just about to offer him something to eat."

"My steak? Monday night's dinner?"

Strips of lean beef sat on a plate on the counter.

"I was so certain that with your generous heart you'd insist on sharing," Wilson said.

The dog crawled under the table.

Haris sighed. "Does it have to be the fillet?"

"He needs something soft and easy to digest."

"Do all your strays get fillet steak?" Tyler asked.

Haris smothered a laugh, stroked his fingers down Tyler's spine, and his defenses started to crumble. From a touch?

"You are such a good man, sir," Wilson said. "A veritable saint. What the poor starving dogs of Holland Park would do without your innate goodness, I really do not know."

"Don't try and con me this dog came from Holland Park. The pooches here all have diamonds in their collars and the owners never let them out of their arms, let alone their sight."

"What's his name?" Tyler asked.

"Alcide," Wilson said.

Haris raised his eyebrows. "To go with Bill, Jason, Sam, Eric and Sookie?"

"Indeed, sir."

"Alcide can stay until you find him a home, but he remains in the kitchen or downstairs with you."

Tyler crouched and held out his hand.

"He's very shy. He won't-" Wilson let out a choked laugh as Alcide sniffed Tyler's hand and came out from under the table to lick his fingers.

Tyler scratched behind his ears. "You're cute."

"He just needs a bit of affection," Wilson said. "He has to learn how to trust again, don't you, boy? We need to show him not all humans are the same. Everyone deserves a second chance. He can trust us."

Tyler felt a pang of guilt. Would it have been so hard to tell Haris about Jeremy? Maybe he should come clean about Prescott's parties, and then there'd be no chance of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d blackmailing him.

"Did you want something?" Wilson asked as Tyler stood.

"I was...hungry. Could I make myself something to eat?"