* * *
I drink the absinthe and head to the shower, leaving my clothes outside the room to be incinerated by one of my father’s minions who are paid too well to tell what they see. There are clothes left out for me, smart slacks and a button down that looks like the ones I receive each Christmas, and there’s a note.
It’s all taken care of.
Somewhere, the man I killed has a mother, maybe. A family or friends. People who care. And he’s left a hole in his universe.
I should care but I don’t.
I never pretended to be a nice person. It isn’t in my genes.
Part Two
February
“There is always in February some one day, at least, when one smells the yet distant, but surely coming, summer.” ?Gertrude Jekyll
Chapter Seven
Several Years Previously
The man who enters the restaurant isn’t what William Goldsmith Senior expects. He’s taller, broader and he makes his mouth water because he knows that under those trousers is a cock he wants his mouth round.
To be fair, there aren’t many cocks or cunts he’d say no to, and he knows it’s become somewhat of a problem. Given that he holds a position of power, he knows he needs to be more discerning and he’s always managed to stop it from being an issue, but now he sees how it could be.
The man has a stiffness to him that’s almost sweet. His eyes search the room for William and a look of relief passes over his features when he finds him, sitting at his usual table, but of course the man doesn’t know this. This is the first time they’ve met, after much correspondence.
William stands, offers his hand. The man takes it and it’s a firm grip. William has to struggle to put the idea of that grip around his cock out of his head and when he sits down he’s hard.
He’s no fool. He knows the correspondence they’ve exchanged has hinted to something more than a financially beneficial relationship, and he’s pretty certain that the man is interested in more than a firm handshake, but he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Too presumptuous at least.
They sit back down, the sommelier there immediately with the wine William ordered. A glass is poured for each of them and they chink their glasses together before taking that first luxurious sip.
“Thank you for meeting me here.” It’s William who speaks first, as it should be. “I appreciate it.”
“I thought you should be privy to some of the things I know.” There are nerves fluttering in his voice, something William finds endearing.
“And I’m grateful for that. Anything for our countries.”
There’s silence. Then a slight clearing of the man’s throat. “How’s your son?”
“Sons.”
The man raises his brows. “Apologies. I thought you just had the one child.”
William’s smile isn’t sincere. “Since you’re being honest with me, I should be the same with you. I have two children. Two boys. William, named after me, who I share with the Marquess of Dewsbury, and another boy, a year younger. His mother lives in Cornwall.”
“No girls?”
William shakes his head. “No girls. I suppose at some point, my sons will have wives. Maybe I’ll have grandchildren.” He hopes to fuck he doesn’t. Besides, he’s pretty sure William junior won’t be able to manage to produce children. Isaac he isn’t so sure about.
In fact, he isn’t sure of anything about Isaac.
He stops thinking about him, because life gets complicated when he thinks about Isaac. Will is easier. Pliable. Just a damn sight harder work because he’s not the brightest. His mother’s brains.
“How certain are you about what you’ve told me?” William doesn’t want the topic to linger on his family as he isn’t sure the man would understand.
“It’s unquestionable. I’ve brought you copies of the documents.” The man reaches for his bag.
