“Mmmm,” Leandro says.
“Subspace isn’t supposed to cause hallucinations,” Santino says.
“I don’t think it was that. More like a deep meditation, or an intense daydream. Giovanni lives in his head. His imagination is profound.”
If he was only imagining it.
“How did that make you feel?” Leandro asks.
I shake my head, ashamed by my insecurities but unable to rein them in. “Like I am in competition with my brother still, and I hate feeling this way, especially because some part of me knows I will never win.”
The men are silent, sipping their wine. Leandro says, “When he was alive, did you feel this way toward your brother?”
“Sometimes, yes. Not that he fostered any resentment. He was just older and wiser. He always had everything under control, or made it seem that way. I looked up to him, wanted to be him, and with Giovanni…”
It’s ridiculous of me to try and compete with my deceased brother, I know that, but this pattern was established years ago. He was a father figure and a mentor to me, but he was also my big brother, the person with whom I compared my achievements, and he outpaced me in every way.
Leandro gestures with one hand as if to say,go on.
“With Gio, it felt like my brother was teasing me. I could have him, but only according to Valentin’s rules, and there were many. It made it difficult for us to form a bond, and at times, it even felt cruel. My brother and I had some differences of opinion, but Valentin was… Valentin. Then with his sickness, Gio devoted himself fully to his care. We are finding our way, but I keep hitting these walls that prevent me from… taking ownership.”
“I did notice the artwork,” Leandro says. “Was that a reminder to him or was that for you?”
“Both. Gio likes to be marked, though he would probably prefer if they were bruises or lashes from a whip.”
“You’re comparing yourself with him again,” Leandro says.
“I know.” I drag one hand through my hair, frustrated.
“I don’t believe an ultimatum would serve either of you,” Santino says.
“I wouldn’t do that to him. And I know he needs to feel this connection with Valentin, however maddening it is to me. His mental health is my first priority. Sometimes it’s just…”
“Painful?” Leandro prompts.
“Yes. But if I tell him, I’m afraid he’ll hide his feelings from me, and that would be worse.”
“How did you deal with this when Valentin was alive?” Santino asks.
“I tried to live in the moment and be grateful for what I was given.” That was Valentin’s advice to me, the condescending prick.
“But that’s no longer enough to satisfy you?”
“It’s not enough to satisfy either of us. He wants more from me, and I want to give it to him, but I don’t have Valentin’s confidence or his knowledge. It’s as if I am grasping for him in the dark. And I can’t afford to mess this up.” It’s not an exaggeration to say that I am in a tug-of-war with Giovanni’s demons. I must remain ever vigilant of his mental health and continue to prove that a life with me is preferable to joining his Master in death.
“These things take time,” Santino says. “And patience.”
“I am not a naturally patient person,” I admit.
“But you are trying,” Leandro adds. “And he knows that.”
Santino gestures to where Giovanni stands, an absolute vision, and says, “This isn’t a long-term solution by any means, but perhaps you should go claim your sub. There’s nothing like a good public fucking to solidify one’s sense of ownership.”
This is one area at least where I excel. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders, then stroll over to where Giovanni stands. Their conversation quiets upon my arrival and Andrea dips their head in deference. “I enjoyed chatting with you, Giovanni. Please excuse me now while I go find my Mistress.”
Once Andrea has departed, I say to Giovanni, “I didn’t mean to chase them off.”
“It’s fine. I was wondering when you were going to make your way back over here.”
