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.
