But Arthur didn’t kiss him, just held him tightly with arms around his waist. “Someone bought the warehouse in Philadelphia. What if it is Zeppler?”

“Then the faster we can destroy that pomander, the better,” said Rory. “That’s the whole reason we’re taking this trip.”

“I suppose.” Arthur frowned. “Fair warning, I might take a swing at your father. Just to get that out there.”

Rory snorted. “Sure, Ace,” he said, going up on his toes to kiss him. “Let’s hurry up and get back to your place, okay? ’Cause we wouldn’t fit on my bed and I’m not gonna let my Fifth Avenue prince touch my dirty sheets anyway.”

“You think you’re cute.” Arthur reluctantly let Rory go.

As Rory knelt by his trunk and opened the lid, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed without any distaste. “Is there anything you might like to keep at my place instead? A lot of things, even?”

His tone seemed deceptively light. Rory glanced over his shoulder. “What, you want me to share the mice?”

Arthur gave him a flat look. “I do know what money is,” he said. “And I am aware that your rent takes much of your savings. All I’m saying is perhaps you don’t have to spend that money if—well. If you’re already spending your nights somewhere else.”

“But then I’d be jobless and homeless—” Rory cut the words off as he caught Arthur’s meaning. Not homeless.

His heart swelled with affection, mixed with regret, because Arthur cared so much about Rory he’d offer what he knew shouldn’t, and Rory couldn’t let him.

The room was so small that Rory only had to shift to fit himself between Arthur’s knees. “That’s the best idea I ever heard,” he said, soft and honest. “But how long could your nephew really live with you? How long’s the doorman gonna keep buying that story? You got your family’s reputation to keep.”

“You are not allowed to talk about the nephew charade while you’re kneeling between my legs,” Arthur said. “Maybe I’ll buy a new house. Upstate, on a big bit of land, no gossips.”

There was a heaven if Rory ever heard one. But he shook his head. “Isn’t that still too risky? Your family is gonna know I’m not your nephew.”

“I know you’re not my nephew, and I very much do not want you to be my nephew, and you’re still right here between my legs and not supposed to talk about it.”

“Tough, I’m not moving,” Rory said, because this position was giving him all sorts of ideas. “I’m not trying to be difficult; I’m trying to stop you being disinherited.”