Page 45 of The Caress

I look up from my phone and frown. "Why? Can’t you tell me whatever it is now. save us both some hassle? Since I know you didn’t just stop by to say hi and see my smiling face this morning."

"I'd be disappointed on both counts," he smirks, looking around. "And I’d rather wait until we’re behind closed doors to talk, if that’s okay with you."

I thought I just made it clear that it isn’t okay with me, but it’s too early to argue. Besides, I know he’ll keep arguing until he gets his way, since that’s what he always does.

Pointing toward my office with my phone in one hand while I grab my coffee with the other, I mentally try to prepare myself for whatever fresh hell my brother is about to put me through. "Let’s make this quick, at least. I really do have to sit in on a couple of those meetings this morning."

Once we’re in my office and I’ve had a chance to sit down at my desk and take a sip of coffee, I notice he’s acting strange. Stranger than usual. Fidgety and nervous, which I’m pretty sure are the first traits they beat out of you in prime minister prep class or whatever it is he took at Eton.

"What’s the matter with you?" I ask, studying him as he paces around my office. "And sit down, will you? You’re freaking me out."

"I'm sorry," he says as he slumps into an armchair across from my desk. "I’ve hardly slept since I’ve been here."

"That makes two of us. What’s your excuse? Partying? Scheming to take over the world? Planning your redecoration of Number Ten Downing Street?"

"Funny. I won’t ever be moving into Number Ten at this rate. My campaign is losing steam. We have been for some time now."

That isn’t exactly news to me. I’ve seen the polling and read the headlines about my brother’s bid to become the next leader of the U.K., and while he’ll likely have an easy time winning his seat in parliament, his status as the future leader of the party and country is very much still up in the air.

"All campaigns have ebbs and flows," I say, shrugging. "Maybe you’ve had a couple of unfavorable news cycles, but that’ll turn around."

"I don’t think it will. First of all, it’s been more than a couple of unfavorable cycles. My name is constantly in the papers. not for the reasons my campaign would prefer."

Should I feel guilty? My situation with Ella is almost certainly contributing to those shitty headlines, but I’m finding it hard to muster an apology for something that shouldn’t be anyone’s business in the first place.

"I’ll try to cut back on how often I’m photographed with Ella," I say, giving him that small concession even though I’m already chafing at the prospect of going back into hiding. "That should bump your poll numbers up a percentage or two."

He snorts and almost smiles. "I appreciate the thought, but you and Ella are the least of my problems right now. Within the party, leak after leak has occurred. All the scandals are adding up. The voters can see there’s a lack of leadership. it doesn’t help that all they’re hearing is this steady trickle of bad news out of Westminster." He shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "You know I don’t like to ask for help, but I’m at my wits’ end, Keir. I don’t know what to do. My advisers aren’t helping. They think the solution to every problem is to throw more money at it."

"Will that help?" I offer. "Throwing money at the problems? Because I can write a check if that’s what you need."

No, I shouldn’t be helping him at all.

Yes, I’m angry with myself for even offering.

But he’s my only brother. I don’t know if I can forgive him for some of the crazy shit he’s pulled recently, but I’m too old and too tired to spend the rest of my life hating him.

"I'm not sure," he says with a frown. "Maybe? More money is almost always a good thing. I’m just not sure if it’s worth it. You get zero return on investment if I lose. it’s looking like that’s the direction we’re heading."

I don’t think I’ve ever seen James go through a crisis of confidence. Even when he’s unsure about something, he almost always bluffs his way through. And it almost always works.

But this sad, anxious, dejected look is a new one for him. It's honestly starting to worry me a little.

"Come outside with me," I say, standing up so abruptly that it takes a few seconds for him to follow. "The fresh air might do some good."

"Certainly can’t hurt," he agrees, following me out onto the patio and then down the steps to the beach. "So what do you think I should do? Aren’t big brothers supposed to have all the answers?"

"I do have all the answers." I shoot him a half-grin as he catches up to me. "You’re just asking all the wrong questions. Let’s start by establishing what you want to do. That’s the important part in all this. Do you even want to be prime minister?"

The furrow in his brow and the hesitation before he answers tell me everything I need to know. "I thought I wanted it. I used to want it. Now, I’m not so sure."

"The leadership your party is looking for has to come from you," I continue. "You understand that, right? If you don’t feel like you can be the leader of the party, not to mention the entire country, then you need to suspend your campaign. Put those poor bastards who are volunteering for you out of their misery."

"I sort of brought that idea up with our parents last week," he confesses. "I’m sure you can imagine how that dinner went."

I wince. "Yeah, I can imagine. That explains Mother’s shitty mood lately."

He snorts. "Hey, I can’t take all the credit for that. She’s been pulling her hair out because of you."

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