The Wish (5 page)

Alex actually preferred men with a slighter build, but for a casual fuck, his only prerequisites were “attractive” and “exciting.” The bulging muscles and shoulder-length dreadlocks also served to set Isaac apart from dime-a-dozen club boys. He was near Alex’s age, too, and mature enough to understand that one fuck did not a commitment make. Sadly, regardless of his exoticism and availability, Alex had had him—and simply wasn’t interested anymore. Besides, someone new lurked in the house to provide a worthy distraction if things worked in Alex’s favor, and they usually did.

After dismissing the disappointed servant, Alex left his room in search of his uncle. He’d been afraid to visit during the last few months of Byron’s illness, though he’d called frequently, hoping they’d understand his absences didn’t indicate a lack of caring. Caring was never the problem. He loved Alfred and Byron both wholeheartedly. The problem lay in Alex’s massive case of cowardice.

Too late now to turn back the clock and own up to his responsibilities in regards to Byron, but better late than never with Alfred. Alex was here now and would do his best to assist his uncle through this time of sorrow. Regardless of the numerous times Alfred had repeated the sentiment, Alex wasn’t entirely convinced of the old man’s sincerity when he said, “I’m fine.”

Midway down the marble staircase, Alex stopped in his tracks, spotting his aged uncle, eyes closed and smiling broadly, embracing the attractive stranger who’d caught his attention outside. A vague sense of familiarity swept over him, but where he’d seen the man before he couldn’t say. Boy-next-door handsome as opposed to drop-dead gorgeous, despite his small stature the newcomer possessed a casual elegance one didn’t soon forget—not to mention a killer ass.

With narrowed eyes, Alex watched the two kiss each other on the cheek, and when Alfred wrapped an arm around slim shoulders and led the way down the hall, it appeared more a fatherly gesture than the affection of a lover. Still, due to his uncle’s strict upbringing, even with Alfred’s longtime love, public displays of affection were kept to a minimum. And they’d shared a genuine love, which no one could deny. However, Byron had been ill for an awfully long time before he died, and having been over twenty years younger proved age differences weren’t a problem for Alfred.

Could Alfred have already found a replacement for the man who, at this exact moment, lay in a casket at the funeral parlor? Even without proof, the possibility disappointed Alex. The older couple presented a shining example of men in a monogamous, committed relationship. To discover he’d been mistaken about the depth of what they’d shared—well, it nearly toppled Alex’s idols from their pedestals.

For a moment he considered retreating to his room and waiting until the stranger left, but immediately discarded the idea. This was his uncle’s house, and no interloper was going to come in and take Byron’s place easily. About to follow the pair down the hall, he heard the
snick
of a closing door, followed by retreating footsteps. Perhaps Uncle Alfred was alone now and he could get some answers.

His soft knock on the office door was answered by the familiar gruff baritone of his mother’s only sibling, bidding him to come in. The smile lighting the still handsome face of his uncle as he entered did Alex’s heart good. No matter what happened in life, Uncle Alfred remained a constant, someone to depend on. When Alfred struggled unsteadily to his feet, icy fear clutched Alex’s heart. Gone was the robust gentleman of memory who could take on the world single-handedly, replaced by a frail, silver-haired senior in the waning years of life.

“Uncle, are you not well?” Alex asked in genuine concern. Though he stood to inherit more money than any one man might need in a lifetime upon Alfred’s death, he had no wish for that to happen anytime soon.

The old man winced, rummaging in his desk with one hand while clutching his chest with the other. Alex instinctively jumped into action, hurrying to his uncle’s side and finding a prescription bottle hidden under a stack of papers. Alfred’s eyes squeezed shut in pain while Alex fumbled open the cap and shook the pills into his open palm.

“How many?” he demanded.

Alfred plucked a single pill and placed it under his tongue, slowly sinking back into his chair.

That the great Alfred Anderson could be ill was unimaginable, and Alex stood paralyzed, watching helplessly. He breathed a sigh of relief when the color seeped back into Alfred’s ashen face.

“Terribly sorry, Alex. Unfortunate side effect of getting so damned old, I’m afraid.” When Alfred met Alex’s eyes, the frailties of his body were noticeably absent from his intense gaze, his mind still as sharp as ever. “Thank you for coming. I’ve missed you,” he murmured quietly.

“It’s good to be here.” Returning the pill bottle to the desk drawer, Alex awkwardly added, “I’m sorry about Byron.”

“Thank you. Though I miss him terribly, at least now he’s free from pain.”

Not knowing what else to say, Alex leaned down and wrapped his uncle in an affectionate, if cautious, hug.

“I’m old, damn it, not fragile,” his uncle growled into his ear, as arms, softening with age, wrapped Alex in a welcoming embrace. After a moment Alfred sat back and studied Alex intently. “You’re looking good, as always.”

“And you’re looking….” Alex couldn’t find the proper words to use in this circumstance.

His uncle gave a soft bark of derisive laughter. “Admit it. I look like what I am—a relic with very little time left.”

“You’ll outlive us all and well you know it,” Alex replied, fervent in his denials. His uncle would live forever. He had to, if for no other reason than Alex wanted him to.

Alfred sighed and ran his wrinkled, aged-spotted fingers through his still full and wavy hair. The family’s trademark golden locks had faded to silver. “I’m glad you came. We need to talk. May I offer you a drink?”

How like the man to skip the social niceties when they were alone and cut straight to the chase. Assessing his host’s physical condition, Alex feared what he was about to hear. “I don’t suppose you have any vermouth handy, do you?”

Alfred chuckled. “You know where the bar is. Would you be so kind as to refill my water glass while you’re there?”

“Of course.” Alex took the empty glass and refilled it before mixing himself a martini, his uncle’s words convincing him he’d need a little liquid courage.

When he neared the desk, he couldn’t help noticing the lone portrait displayed there—clearly the man from the hallway. What was the photo doing where a picture of Alfred and Byron normally stood? Scanning the meticulously decorated office, he finally located the familiar image—on the mantel next to a picture of himself. Barely suppressed anger bubbled to the surface. There must be a logical explanation, although from what he’d witnessed in the hallway, he believed he knew what was going on and didn’t like the implications one bit. Still, due to his uncle’s illness, he needed to handle the situation delicately.

“Alex?” His uncle called his attention back where it belonged. “Please have a seat. As I said before, we need to talk.”

Alex noticed how tired the man sounded, and little wonder, with the stress he’d dealt with over the last few days. Taking a fortifying sip of his drink, Alex deposited the water glass on the desk and sank into the leather chair across from Alfred. “What is it?”

“I’ll come right out and say this because you have the right to know: I have a heart condition, and it’s serious.”

“What do the doctors say?” Fear gripped Alex like an iron fist. At seventy-six, the man was hardly young, though healthy for his age.

“They found out a few weeks ago and wanted to do surgery immediately, though with Byron….” Nothing more needed to be said. Alex knew how much Alfred had doted on his partner, and he would have put his lover’s needs before his own, even risking his own health.

“What about now?” Alex asked.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve tried never to be a burden or ask anything of you; however, the time has finally come when I need your help.”

Alex responded without thought. “I’ll do anything you need me to.”

The corners of Alfred’s mouth lifted slightly in a weak smile. “Three weeks from today, they’ll perform a procedure to open a blockage in my heart and insert a stent. I’ll be in the hospital no longer than three days and able to resume my work in a week. Until then, I need to teach you to run this estate, as a precaution. An estate that will be yours soon, I’m afraid.”

“Uncle, don’t talk like that!” Alex pleaded, tendrils of panic curling into his belly. “You’re going to be fine. Of course I’ll learn what I need to know, but only so you won’t be burdened while you recover.”

“There’s more.” Alfred’s sigh sounded ominous.

“Oh?”

“Even if I do recover, Alex, it’s time to pass the torch.” Alfred paused to take a sip of water, staring at the glass in his hand. “I’d like you to consider moving in and managing the day-to-day operations of the Anderson empire and the businesses I’m invested in. I find I’m quite ready to retire.”

Oh. Alex certainly hadn’t expected that. He loved his life, going where he wanted and doing what he pleased with only himself to answer to. Nevertheless, Alfred had been generous and never once asked for anything in return. But Alex couldn’t even manage his own checkbook—that was why Andersons kept accountants on the payroll—let alone manage his uncle’s affairs. He paused a moment to consider, finally deciding he could possibly survive a few changes to his normal routine. He’d miss his freedom, but surely he wouldn’t have to give up his nightlife completely if he moved in. On second thought, though, he could hardly bring casual fucks to his uncle’s house. Maybe he could split his time between his condo in Houston and possibly find another here in LA. “I don’t see how I could possibly say no,” he replied, surprising himself with his sincerity. He’d work out the details later.

The relief on his uncle’s face was well worth any sacrifices he’d have to make. “Good, that’s settled, and I cannot tell you how glad I am that you’re going to do this for me. I had no idea what I’d do if you’d said no.”

The innocent comment, that the man who’d always been so giving even considered such a possibility, stung like a slap in the face. Sure, Alex loved his carefree life. Did enjoying his independence make him so selfish that his uncle thought him capable of turning his back on a loved one in need? He’d opened his mouth to respond when a soft knock interrupted them.

“Come in,” called Alfred.

“Excuse me, sir; it’s time for your medicine.” Bernard’s eyes widened when he noticed Alex. “I didn’t know you’d arrived. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his lips turning up in a genuine smile.

Alex rose from the chair to be enveloped in a hug, and he awkwardly patted the butler’s bony back. Except with his uncle, Byron, and numerous flings, physical displays of affection made him uncomfortable.
“Andersons do not engage in public displays,”
he’d been told often enough while growing up, like “Anderson” equaled a noble title.

Finally, Bernard relinquished his hold, smoothly returning to the role of restrained butler. “I take it you’ve settled in and will let me know if you have need of anything?”

Alex beamed fondly at his uncle’s right-hand man. “You know I will.”

“Very good, sir. Now if you’ll excuse us, your uncle needs his medicine and a nap.” A sharp glower from the steely-eyed butler ended Alfred’s weak protests.

“I’m sorry, Alex. We’ll talk more, later. I have to do what he says… or else.”

Alex didn’t stop to question what “or else” entailed, bidding them a good afternoon. He decided to forego his room in favor of visiting the kitchen to see if Martha, his uncle’s housekeeper, had any of those wonderful oatmeal cookies he loved. He strolled down the hall, realizing his uncle’s health concerns and Bernard’s untimely arrival had made him completely forget about the stranger. Maybe later.

“Martha?” Alex called as he opened the kitchen door, expecting to find the gray-haired matron fussing about the brightly lit room. He stopped in the doorway, speechless at the sight greeting him. Instead of a plump, elderly housekeeper, he found the dark-haired man who’d puzzled him earlier, standing on a ladder, replacing the light bulbs in an overhead fixture. That explained a lot, in his opinion. It seemed his uncle wasn’t above amusing himself with the handyman. Ordinarily, Alex applauded such—flaunting convention fit right in with his own methods of operation. In this case, however, the lack of propriety cheapened the memory of the partner who’d shared thirty years of his uncle’s life, a partner who hadn’t even been given a proper burial yet. Besides, wasn’t changing light bulbs part of Isaac’s job?

The stranger froze, gazing down warily, and Alex realized he’d been right in his earlier assessment. Although the man could very well be a money-grubbing gold-digger intent on taking a feeble old man for every available cent, the slightly built brunet made for attractive scenery, in a bookish, intellectual kind of way. A fall of dark-brown hair brushed his forehead, straight and thick. Auburn highlights shimmered under the light of the newly changed bulbs. Well-defined cheekbones and angular features lent him an exotic air, and judging his height against the six-foot ladder, he only reached about five and a half feet tall.

Sinewy muscles rippled under his snug T-shirt, compact and appearing more the product of work than a gym, and low-riding jeans hugged his slim hips, displaying a good view of flat belly when he raised his arms over his head. His lower lip, slightly fuller than the top, gave him a pouting expression, and even the librarian-type glasses perched on his nose did nothing to lessen his appeal. In short, he was exactly the kind of man Alex liked. He even had light-brown eyes!

Forcing himself to recall who the guy was and what he was doing there, Alex scowled. Attractive or not, it was time to put the upstart in his place. “I know what you’re trying to do and I won’t allow it,” he announced, folding his arms across his chest.

The man laughed, his voice much deeper than Alex would have imagined coming from someone so small. “I’m changing a light bulb. Do you have something against me being able to see while I make dinner?”