The Wish (10 page)

“Well, they should be the best,” Alfred assured him. “They came from the finest agency in Los Angeles.”

Paul scowled. “Well, except for….”

“Except for what?” Alex prompted, curious.

“Well….” Paul squirmed, twisting his fingers together. “The accounting firm keeps sending people, even though I told them we’ve made our decisions. To put it bluntly, those applicants were totally unsuitable.”

Alex found it extremely telling that Alfred’s accountant took such a personal interest in his client’s affairs, above and beyond what the job description entailed. Unlike when he’d searched for information on Paul, the accountant’s name and firm produced some pretty noteworthy results, and not all of them positive.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said, “I’ll handle it. I’ve been meaning to give Maxwell a call, anyway.”

Already rehearsing the conversation in his head, he nearly missed Paul’s quietly murmured, “Thank you.”

Alex merely inclined his head politely in acknowledgment. It’d been coming for some time, and he definitely needed to have a conversation with good ol’ Maxwell. Sipping the last of his wine, he made a mental note to call first thing in the morning.

“
T
HAT
’
S
right,” Alex said into the phone, most of his attention fixed on his laptop and his uncle’s portfolio. One by one, he systematically updated user names and passwords. “We’ve already made our decisions. Bernard and Martha will train the new staff before retiring at full pay.”

Alex’s smile turned devious, though he knew the man on the other end of the line couldn’t see him. “That’s what Uncle Alfred wants.” Sputtering indignation forced him to hold the phone away from his ear. He truly enjoyed dropping the next little bit of information too. “They’ll both continue to live here. The guest house is being remodeled to include two apartments.”

He listened quietly for a moment, or rather, pretended to. There was nothing his uncle’s accountant could say that he wanted to hear. Digging the knife in deeper, he continued, “Paul conducted the initial interviews and background checks. The final decisions belonged to me, Bernard, and Martha.” It should have been obvious at this point that the candidates suggested by the Turner, Turner, and Walden firm hadn’t even been considered, nor would they be.

“Although we appreciate your concern, we don’t need any more résumés at this time.” Though his words were polite enough, he made sure his tone clearly conveyed,
“Don’t send anyone else!”
Maybe the polite warning would get the man to stop harassing Paul with waste-of-time job seekers.

Of course the integrity-challenged bean counter protested the new arrangement. It kept him out of the loop he’d enjoyed for thirteen years. Questions had arisen when Alex assumed control of his uncle’s investments, and it appeared Maxwell had used shady accounting practices with regard to his client’s finances. Alex planned to ease him out slowly, and once his hands were prised free of Alfred’s interests, the door would be slammed and locked. Planting informants in the household wasn’t going to happen.

Turning a deaf ear to the protests while continuing to study his uncle’s files, Alex bid the man an insincere “Good day,” and then he ended the call.

Although he wasn’t an accountant, Alex knew bill padding when he saw it, and Maxwell Turner had taken full advantage of Alfred’s recent inattention to take what wasn’t his. Three gym memberships and two personal trainers? Alex belonged to one fitness club and had never employed a trainer in his life. The duplicitous bastard must have trusted Alfred not to question any expenses submitted from Houston, and Alex asked an attorney friend to investigate the gyms Alex hadn’t set foot in. The pilfering and mismanagement of Alfred’s accounts might not be worth suing over, what with the negative publicity a lawsuit would bring, but definitely warranted a good firing. First, Alex needed to carefully extricate the man’s greedy hands from any Anderson assets—Maxwell could still do a lot of damage.

Alex grinned, supposing, even now, that Maxwell was discovering that he no longer had access to Alfred’s online accounts—and changing passwords were just the beginning.

Surprisingly, and proving he really was an Anderson at heart, one taste of business had left Alex wanting more, and he thrived on the challenges before him. His uncle invested with companies in fields of personal interest, which made the job even more enjoyable.

Equally amazing was how efficient Paul had turned out to be in assuming the role of secretary and household organizer, handling such mundane tasks as shopping and dealing with contractors about the planned changes to the guest house—tasks that, quite frankly, Alex found baffling. The cooperation left Alex free to focus on the financial and business matters, like monitoring spending on the project. Far from attempting to profit from his activities, Paul was a shrewd bargainer and watched every penny. The experience he’d gained during the renovations to his store proved invaluable.

With Isaac needed more around the house, Paul also escorted Alfred to his appointments. Unfortunately for Alfred, Paul talking directly to the doctor resulted in a severe reduction in his brandy consumption. When time for medication rolled around, now Paul appeared instead of Bernard, doling out pills and ordering Alfred to rest. Paul’s every action declared his obvious affection for the old man.

Well, he has to behave like that
, Alex rationalized.
He’s a good actor, playing a role.

He sighed, willing to admit, if only to himself, that it wasn’t true. Paul Sinclair remained an enigma. When others were around, Alex maintained civility for Alfred’s sake; however, the moment they were alone, he tried every trick in his vast repertoire to get into Paul’s pants. Each and every time, Paul firmly declined the offers, carefully orchestrating the schedule to allow them little time alone.

Alex’s stomach grumbled, and he rose and stretched, deciding to visit Alfred for a chat about Maxwell before breakfast. Tapping softly on the doorframe, he waited patiently before easing the door open and stepping inside when he received no answer.

“Uncle?” he called. A movement glimpsed from the corner of his eye drew his attention to the window. His uncle and Paul ambled along the garden path, occasionally touching or exchanging a casual glance. Things Alex’s mind, eagerly seeking fault, blew out of proportion.

When they turned toward the house, he retreated lest he be caught spying. About to leave, he recalled the morning not long ago and what he’d found on the bed. He couldn’t help himself. Quickly scanning the sheets, he caught sight of a small, square package that had once held a condom lying on the comforter. Leaving the cellophane wrapper where it lay, he made a hurried exit, his blood pressure steadily rising with each step.

“
W
HAT
’
S
on the agenda for today?” Alex asked, wiping the remnants of a tasty breakfast from his mouth. Martha’s cooking would be sorely missed now that she’d announced her imminent retirement. At sixty-eight years old, she deserved to retire. However, he’d miss the cookies she used to bake for him. But she’d still be in the house and maybe up to the occasional request.

Paul, in the role of personal secretary, never looked up from pouring Alfred’s tea. “You have a meeting with the attorney at ten and the broker at eleven thirty. I’ll be taking Alfred to his doctor’s appointment at ten thirty, and you’ll be joining us for lunch at one at Berkley’s.”

Alex had to hand it to Paul; the man was efficient. “How about this afternoon?”

After a long pause, Paul murmured, “Have you forgotten? It’s the reading of Uncle Byron’s will.”

Well, damn. Yes, he had forgotten.

Alfred placed a reassuring hand on Paul’s. Between the gesture and the reminder that they’d soon be hearing Byron’s final message, Alex suddenly found breakfast no longer agreeing with him. The warmth in Paul’s eyes as he and the old man shared a quiet moment of silent communication quickly replaced any traces of remorse with something more familiar: suspicion.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Alex changed the subject. “You said the interviews were over?”

“Yes,” Paul replied. “We narrowed the choices down to two possibilities for butlers, and Bernard decided on William McCord. He and the new housekeeper, Theresa Garcia, start today. They both came highly recommended.”

Though Alex still harbored some resentment, he was a firm believer in giving credit where due. “I want to thank you for overseeing the hiring of the new staff. I’ve got my hands a bit full these days.”

Alfred smirked, though prudently remaining quiet.

Eyes wide with surprise, Paul stammered his reply, “W… well, I know Bernard was worried. How considerate of you to let him choose his replacement.”

They performed an awkward dance, working together for the greater good, which would have been a complete failure had they not both been sincere in their efforts to cooperate. It was becoming obvious to Alex that Paul was sincere in everything he said or did, casting doubts on his earlier assumptions about the man’s character. There was still the matter of the evidence… like what he’d found before breakfast lying on his uncle’s bed. He pushed the unpleasantness to the back of his mind for later thought. “Since he and Martha will continue live here and oversee things, they’re actually doing us a huge favor.” Besides, Alex was comfortable with them and didn’t want them to leave.

Finally, Alfred added his sentiments, voicing Alex’s feelings. “They’ve been with me so long; they’re a part of the family. I’m rather embarrassed to admit I didn’t know how old they were, and it’s past time for them to relax a bit.” His shrewd gaze focused on Alex. “How progresses ‘Introduction to Business 101’?”

“I had no clue how much work there was to being you,” Alex admitted. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of things, though. Um, I think you should know I intend to replace your accountant. Until I locate a suitable replacement, I’m going to be especially hands-on in that area.”

“You do what you think is best,” Alfred replied. His lack of reaction to the news spoke volumes. No doubt he knew everything and had merely given Maxwell enough rope to hang himself. Alex would’ve done the same. His uncle added, “If you need any help, I’m sure Paul could be of assistance.”

“Paul?” Alex asked, suspicions and an eyebrow rising.

Alfred patted his mouth with a napkin. “He majored in business management with a minor in accounting.”

Two smiles greeted Alex when he glanced up, Paul’s bashful and Alfred’s boastful.

“You don’t say,” he muttered.

“Oh, yes. Finished top of his class too!” the old man crowed, beaming like a proud parent.

Those smiles turned to each other, and Alex fought the temptation to make gagging noises. Was it his imagination, or had Paul walked with a slight limp this morning when he’d arrived at the breakfast table? Was Uncle Alfred more chipper than usual?

Thankfully, Bernard interrupted his thoughts. “Sir, Helena is on the phone from Boston. She claims it’s urgent.”

“It’s always urgent with her,” Alfred growled, rising from his chair. “Probably misplaced her pearl earrings again and wants me to come flog the maids until they confess. Excuse me, boys. I need to go see what the old dragon wants.”

“Helena? Great-aunt Helena?” Alex asked.

“None other,” Paul replied. Though outwardly calm, with no one around to ensure Alex played nice, he was probably ready to bolt and run. However, other than the nervous, sidelong glances at the closed door, Paul hid his discomfort well.

Searching for a way to keep the conversation going, Alex offered, “She’s still a harpy, I suppose. Always after me to ‘get married and carry on the family name’. How quickly she’s forgotten that my name is Martin, not Anderson.” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Although she did try to get me to change it a few years back.”

Nearly choking on a mouthful of coffee, Paul spluttered indignantly, “Doesn’t she know you like men?”

Alex snorted. “Makes no difference to her. Her second husband was gay as blazes, and they had two children, something she likes to keep reminding me of. Even the very thought makes me shudder. Poor man. Her last name is no longer Anderson, either.”

Quiet footsteps passed outside the door, and Paul, apparently reminded they were alone, set his cup down and pushed his chair back from the table with an apologetic frown. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Alex rounded the table in an instant, effectively blocking Paul’s retreat. “What’s your hurry, Paul? You told me the schedule. There’s still plenty of time before you need to be anywhere.” As if on cue, the grandfather clock bonged the hour. Alex added suggestively, “Hmm… looks like I have time to spare too. I have a few suggestions of how we can fill the void.”

“Alex.” Paul huffed out an aggrieved sigh. “I’d hoped to get through one meal without having to deal with this. I’ve told you a million times: I am
not
taking advantage of Alfred.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it? How?”

Alex’s smile held no humor. “Sleep with me.”

Anger flashed in Paul’s eyes and he hissed between gritted teeth, “I don’t have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Because you can’t,” Alex murmured into his ear. “I
know
you fucked him. I found the condom wrapper on Uncle Alfred’s bed this morning. You need to learn to be more discreet or you’ll scandalize the servants.” He turned and stalked away, leaving Paul openmouthed and staring.

A
CONDOM
wrapper? Alex found a condom wrapper? On Alfred’s bed? Well, as far as Paul knew, the only person living in the house who’d had sex in the recent past was Alex himself. Well, Alex and possibly Isaac—and hopefully not together. But him sleeping with Alfred? Ridiculous! The man was like a father, for Pete’s sake, and his own dear uncle’s partner!

Paul fervently wished Alex would get over his irrational paranoia. They’d formed an uneasy alliance, yet whenever no one was around, the accusations began. As much as Paul hated them, he almost understood. He’d be the same way if someone attempted to take advantage of Alfred.