Buddies

DISCLAIMER

This is my first attempt at writing a long piece of erotic gay fiction. If you are not of legal age to view this material please don't. If you are offended by male-male relationships, please don't proceed further. All characters, plots, events etc are purely imaginary and any resemblance to anything living or dead is regretted. Please do not distribute without my permission.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is a continuation from Part I. Thanks go to everyone who has written to let me know they enjoy the story. It's most gratifying. I have found quite a number of phrasing and grammatical errors in the first installation, after it was posted. I apologize if these had made reading the story difficult. The ending to the first part wasn't an intentional cliff-hanger, it just seemed like a good place to stop. I was in a dilemma over how many chapters I should include in this part. My first thought was 8 but I figured 12 was better. Oh another thing, I have gotten lazy and used 'Coming Out' in the last few chapters. It's trite but I figured sometimes the most commonplace things are the best.

Comments and constructive suggestions are welcomed at john_young00@yahoo.com

BUDDIES

CHAPTER 1 (THE AWAKENING)

I tried to open my eyes wide open but could barely lift them more than an inch. I feebly grasped the bed-sheets as I exerted all of my remaining strength to try again. Someone held my hand and gently pat it. A strong and rough hand that belonged to a man.

"Welcome back, JB," the same person who held my hand said. That name sounded familiar, was it mine?

I had to strain to get a good look at the man and suddenly my head felt like it was splitting open with the effort.

"Who...? Where...?" I croaked, even my voice sounded weak and foreign to me.

"Don't worry, everything's going to be just fine," the stranger promised.

"Now go back to sleep," he said.

I gulped and complied.

Marcus could hardly contain his joy. Two years and months of agony, waiting for his lover to speak and now his prayers have been answered. He gazed tenderly at the man resting on the bed, emotions choking his throat. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, he turned and saw Jason. Behind Jason was Betty, his ex-wife. She had flew in from Thailand on a business trip with her husband. Marcus smiled, a trembling smile that lit his somber face.

"Did you see, Jason? He spoke to me! Jonathan's awake!" Marcus cried, unable to contain his happiness anymore.

"Yes I did, Marc," Jason grinned, tears in his eyes as well.

"I'm so happy for you," Betty said, beaming at Marcus. But the smile was too polite, like it was pasted on.

"But don't get your hopes up yet," the doctor in charge reminded the group.

"He was fortunate enough to survive the slash on his neck because the wound was off and not deep enough. But we are not certain that there are no side effects from the blow to his head," the doctor peered at the record in his hand.

"You mentioned the hit wasn't deadly, Ben," Jason meant it as a question.

"What exactly are we looking at here?" Marcus scowled, still holding Jonathan's hand.

"Mild concussion. Temporary amnesia," Benjamin answered, jotting down something on the record.

"But it will pass," he assured.

Marcus's scowl darkened and Jason rolled his eyes in disgust. Betty was smiling.

I blinked my eyes as a glaring ray of light blinded my vision momentarily. The windows of the ward was ajar and before each were clusters of flowers. Bright red roses, crimson pink carnations, snow white lilies and there were even spurious dashes of ferns and forget-me-nots. Had it not been the smell of disinfectants, I would have thought I was in a garden. I had just realized how immense the room was before it hit me that this place could easily hold ten patients.

"How are you feeling today?" the stranger asked. He wasn't pretty, more on the rugged side like a cowboy, but there was something charming and sweet about him that sent my heart pounding feverishly whenever he was near. I was already starting to feel breathless.

"Tired," I answered truthfully not daring to look at those bewitching gray eyes of his lest he noticed my discomfort.

"Why do you feel so unsettled by my presence?" he smilingly asked, flashing a devastating grin at me. Apparently, my tactic didn't work. He seemed to be able to guess accurately everything that went through my mind.

"Suppose you tell me why?" I asked instead. I didn't know where that came from but it sounded right for the occasion.

He chuckled and softly caressed my cheeks leaving behind searing flesh.

"I missed your wit, JB" he said.

"Why are you forever calling me JB? Is that my name?" I questioned. I could only remember being mugged by someone and everything before that was a blur.

"Cos' your name's Jonathan Bancroft. I thought JB seemed less threatening," he pulled a chair and sat down beside the bed.

"I am? Not Mr. Forgetful or something?" I looked at him quizzically.

He shook his head and laughed. Just then, a male nurse entered the ward. I recognized him as my personal assistant for my physiotherapy sessions and gingerly sat up, pushing my hands against the bed for leverage. It was difficult for my hands were still weak after months of inactivity and I failed a few times before the stranger who called himself Marcus, aided me.

"Thanks," I said.

The nurse was already reaching for me when Marcus stopped him.

"I'll do it," Marcus ordered coldly. The nurse flinched and backed away. Weird, why did he do that? There was no reason for the nurse to be this terrified of Marcus. He was the same size and equal in physique but why did he behave like a mouse before Marcus? Marcus wasn't even fearful at all.

Marcus shrugged out of his black coat, loosened his tie and bent over, lifting me out of the bed with both his hands. I noticed silky patches of brown hair covering the forearms and that he wore an intoxicating blend of cologne that smelt like fresh winter with a tinge of spice. My hands were already entwined around his neck before I hastily drew them away. That was insane. Why did I do that? But it had felt right, as if I used to do this. My heart was beating even faster than before and I suspected his too because for the brief moment our chests had pressed close against each other, I had felt his heartbeat quickened.

"Don't try to seduce me or we may just miss your sessions," he joked, confirming my thoughts.

For the rest of the way, I kept my hands wrapped around my middle. He held me like an infant, resting my head against his left arm while grabbing my buttocks with the right. He could have stopped when we neared the door of the ward because a wheelchair was waiting but he insisted on carrying me to the physiotherapy room. It did seem odd to me that there was hardly a wandering doctor or nurse in sight and that several men and women dressed like federal agents were posted along the corridor. Probably none of the rooms were occupied either else there would have been patients around. And everybody stood rigidly at attention when they saw Marcus.

"Are you the President of some country?" I decided to probe when we took the lift. There was a stony face man in a gray suit wearing a ear-piece with us, who stood by the panels. He punched the number of the floor, oblivious to our conversation. I wondered if he was deaf.

"Nope," Marcus's lips twitched.

"Stop that. I'm serious. Who are you? And why are you being so kind to me? Are we related?" I asked, not wanting to delay anymore. The psychiatrist had said I would gradually regain my memory but it had been two weeks already and I was not progressing at all. The lady shrink had refused to tell me about my relationship with Marcus but I knew it must complicated.

"I'm your boyfriend," he answered, looking tenderly at me.

"Boyfriend? As in friend who is a boy? Or are you saying I'm gay?" It hadn't strike me then the solemnity with which he said those words else I wouldn't have inquired with such flippancy.

"No. As in your lover which means we are both gay," he said with the patience of a parent teaching a child.

"Cool," I paused thinking that wasn't quite the phrase to use, "So how did we meet and did we have sex?"

He burst out laughing. "God, you are outrageous," Marcus said.

I grinned at him. Something nagged at me, a fragment of my lost memory.

"Was loving you a bad thing?" I frowned.

"Why do you say that?" there was a sadness in Marcus's voice.

"I'm not sure. I remember coming out to my parents and that I cried a lot. I tried to think about when we first met and......" I clutched my head in pain as if suddenly pierced by a thousand pointed needles.

"Baby what's wrong?" he asked, hoisting me and pressing his face a few centimeters away from mine, scrutinizing my features in a panic.

"Hurts," I mouthed the single word in between the overwhelming pain.

"Get me Doctor Benjamin and prepare a bed in the physiotherapy room," Marcus commanded and the bodyguard in the lift with us nodded, immediately speaking into the small microphone that was attached to the collar of his shirt.

"I'm going to be okay in awhile," I said weakly, rubbing my head with my hands and willing the pain to subside.

"Don't argue with me JB, please," he begged and I was too shocked by the intense fear on his face to say anything more.

"How is he?" Marcus glared at Doctor Benjamin and the consort of doctors in the room.

"He is starting to build up his hand and leg muscles, it shouldn't be long before he can walk and perform simple everyday activities," one of the doctors said. He specialized in physiotherapy. Marcus had employed several doctors of different specialization to treat Jonathan's condition.

"Tell me something else. I want to know why he complained about a headache just now," Marcus snapped.

Benjamin flipped through the record and after a thoughtful silence said, "He is beginning to remember things that's why the occasional bouts of headaches. This is a good sign but we need to do more to stimulate his brain."

"Such as?" Marcus questioned, gritting his teeth while the old man took his time to answer. He would have fired the man if he wasn't the leading authority on comatose patients. Marcus was still bearing a grudge at him for withholding information about the possibility of amnesia.

"Familiar environment and people. Things he liked to do. Favorite songs" Benjamin replied.

"He can be discharged immediately after he can walk by himself again if you like," Benjamin provided.

"I will hold you to your word, Doctor Benjamin," Marcus said, his tone hinting at violent retaliations should the doctor's words turned out to be lies.

"Have you seen the boss's boyfriend before?" Veronica asked as she checked the list of items so as not to miss out on anything.

"Yeah, once at the boss's villa. But that was a long time ago," Samantha replied as she paged through the phone directory looking for a large stationary house that was willing to provide supplies of oil paints and canvass on a monthly basis. The boss had demanded to have only the best and price was no problem.

"He is a painter of some sort. But then his pictures were printed everywhere back then during the scandal so you must know what he looks like," Samantha jot down a name and continued thumbing through the book.

"I know but it isn't the same as seeing him in person. I would have been at the villa to help if it were not for my pregnancy. Anyway he must have changed a lot after all these years," Veronica went through the list one more time to ensure she had gotten everything. The flowers were on the way, the caterers were already at the new mansion and the master bedroom was redecorated in shades of blue, the boss's boyfriend's favorite color. She had even ordered silver candles to be placed in the room just to create a comforting ambience.

"Probably but at least it was a blessing that he was back. Boss seems a lot more jovial lately considering he actually smiled during our meeting yesterday," that comment caused both women to snicker.

Luckily they were convening inside Samantha's office else the consequences would have been disastrous. If some clerk or office boy had heard it and unknowingly told a reporter, the press would have seized the chance and created a big fuss. It was already the talk of the city when the boss did not invite any press to the house-warming party, considering it was such a sought after event. What would have happened if they knew Jonathan was to be at the party as well? Only the Strategic Division team knew about the arrangement.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Samantha said.

Betty sashayed into the room. She was wearing a pair of checkered pants, a blouse and a matching checkered jacket.

"Hi ladies," she said.

"Hey you," Veronica stood up and hugged her.

"Whatcha' all doing?" she asked and sauntered over to peer at the papers.

"Just looking up some stuff and preparing for the party tonight," Veronica closed her organizer and saw that Samantha had done the same. Even though Betty was a good friend, she was still the ex-wife of the boss and she almost succeeded in ruining him, Veronica thought.

"It's going to be a smashing party, I'm sure," Betty gaily predicted.

"So to what do we owe the honor of your presence?" Veronica joked, Samantha had picked up a file and was adjusting the paying rate for each employee man-hour. She was going to propose for a raise across the board at the next meeting.

"Just wanted to see if you girls want to join me for lunch." Betty said.

"Sounds good to me," Veronica agreed.

"Count me out," Samantha said. She never liked the woman. There was something false and peculiar about her, but she couldn't pinpoint what. She had spoken to Marcus about this and warned him to be more careful around her.

"See you at the restaurant just across the street then," Betty waved and left.

"I need to go to the ladies, be back in awhile. I will settle the bill if you need to leave first," Veronica apologized.

"No problem, I think I will stay," Betty assured her. She made sure that Veronica was safely out of sight before she fumbled through Veronica's handbag and retrieved the organizer. Frantically, she peeked at the contents and her hands shivered when she confirmed her suspicions. That faggot was to return tonight. All these notes about blue paint, blue silk and Jonathan's ride. It must be. She had to do something about it. She wasn't about to let him pollute Marcus's soul.

CHAPTER 2 (REDEMPTION)

"Where are we going?" I asked, as Marcus pushed the wheelchair towards the backdoor of the hospital. We had taken a detour because there was a swarm of reporters at the main entrance, Marcus had explained. I supposed it was expected since he must be a very important person.

"To our house," he whispered as he bent to kiss my ears.

"You don't have to kiss me every single minute," I chided, ignoring the shocks of pleasure spreading through my body.

"Don't you like it?" he nibbled the sensitive lobe, slowing down the wheelchair significantly.

"Oh you! Never mind just move," I gave up. He laughed all the way, until we stood outside the limousine.

He carried me from the wheelchair and carefully laid me down in the car. It wasn't necessary because I could walk in by myself but he had insisted on it. The wheelchair was his idea as well. I had intended to stagger slowly with the aid of a cane, but he had thrown the stick away, dumped me into the seat and started to push.

"I'm right, you must be a politician or a senator," I concluded while we sat in the car alone. A sound-proof window blocked our conversation from the driver and bodyguard who sat in the front.

"Wrong," he grinned and covered my hands with his.

"Why can't you reveal your identity?" I grumbled.

"I already did. I am your boyfriend," he said.

"How nice. I don't know where you come from, whose your family and where you stay. Worst of all, you never tell me what kind of job you are involved in, except that everywhere you go, people scamper either out of awe or fear, and you are constantly surrounded by bodyguards. And why in the name of all that's holy," I paused, finding it strange that I never swore even when I was very angry.

"Yes, you were saying?" his grin split even wider. What was wrong with that man?!

"Do you think all this is amusing?!" I bit out indignantly, shooting fires at him with my eyes.

"You know your eyes turn a gorgeous emerald when you are angry," he complimented. I ignored the absurd pleasure his words evoked in me and swerved around, looking out of the window, conveniently shutting him out.

He gently tilted my head around and said, "I come from Houston, I have a father and you happen to be my family too. I own a large corporation and as a result I have become a target for robbers and criminals. Hence the need to employ bodyguards. I never notice people to fear me so I don't know where are you coming from with that accusation."

"Fine. But why did you stop them from letting me read the news while I was hospitalized? No television, no newspapers. Are you involved in drugs?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"The press can be very cruel and I don't want you to worry excessively over what is printed. Most of it is nonsense. And no, I don't do drugs," he explained.

"If you like, I can install a large television set in our room and you can watch the news or anything that you wish," he promised. I couldn't resist such an offer when he was being this sweet, so I accepted.

We sat in companionable silence. I snuggled close to him and rested my head against his chest while he tousled my hair. Sometimes his hands would wander and rubbed lightly against my back. I could feel his chest rose and fell, quickening when I reached down to stroke the lower half of his body, tittering close to his crotch. Finally the limousine came to a halt and Marcus reluctantly pushed me away.

"Mr. Stone, do you still need my service tonight?" the driver asked as he opened the door, the bodyguard, a towering man was already waiting outside.

Marcus shook his head as he stepped out of the car and lifted me from the seat. I covered my eyes with my hands, struggling to adjust to the light. We were standing on the front porch of a magnificent three-storied mansion, overlooking a vast garden. Tents topped with colorful flags stood upon the expanse of green, intermingled with bushes of brightly colored flowers and sculptures of Roman gods and goddesses. Servants dressed in white and gold livery bustled about setting the tables with trays of dishes, baskets of fruits and flowers.

"Are we having a tournament?" I suddenly felt like I had traveled back into the middle ages.

"No," Marcus's lips quirked into a grin.

"A party?" He acknowledged with a nod.

"How gracious of you to let me know at the last minute? How much time for me to make myself presentable? For your information, my movements are still rather restricted at the moment," I uttered, my voice laden with sarcasm.

He pinched me on the nose and replied," It's a house-warming party silly. And there is no need for you to change into anything if you don't want to attend. I can stay with you in the room if you like. By the way, you haven't told me whether you like our house or not."

I examined the mansion, marveling at the elaborate use of Greek styles mixed with Chinese architecture. The balconies were enclosed with black grills, skillfully crafted into the semblance of dragons and phoenixes soaring in the air while Greek columns made up the supporting pillars of the house.

"It's fair enough to be used as material for my paintings. I paint, right?" I asked, confused that I had wanted to do a painting of the place. I didn't know I could paint.

"Yes you do." he confirmed.

"Actually you should do a painting of the house, it will fetch a nice price if you sold it to some art magazine," he laughingly said

"Why?" I stared at him bewildered. Why should a magazine be interested in the work of an amateur like me? Or was I a professional artist previously?

"Well, the media has written a lot about the place but does not have any pictures to show. From the way they have described the place, I can't believe you think it is just passable to be used as a subject for your painting. But I should have known," his laughter grew even louder.

Some of the servants stopped dead in their tracks and gaped with awe at what I just did. I smiled at them.

"Known what?" I yawned, the trip was starting to take its toll on me. Marcus stopped to look at me with concern in his eyes.

"Sorry love, didn't mean to tire you out," he said.

I covered his neck with my arms as we entered the mansion.

I awoke in an unfamiliar room. The windows were wide open and a cool wind blew in, rustling the curtains. A hazy glow shrouded the place as a low fire burnt in the electrical fireplace. I eased myself slowly to a sitting position on the bed. My hands didn't tremble as much as it used to. I pulled the heavy blanket closer till it covered my chest when I realized that I was naked, wearing only a thin underwear. Someone opened the door. >From the silhouette, it looked like a she.

"Who's there?" I asked. She didn't answer but just uncorked a bottle in her hands.

"Who is it? Don't play games with me," I repeated the question, she locked the door and advanced with frightening speed.

I tried to leap out of bed but my actions were still too clumsy and fell onto the floor instead. She slid her arms around my neck and tried to force a potent liquid down my throat. There was no way I could shout for help and I twisted from left to right as best as I could. She was a medium-sized woman, her arms were slender and I should have been able to break out of her clutches. Unfortunately, I was still too weak after months of inactivity on a bed and regardless of how hard I struggled, she managed to hold me pinned to the floor.

A memory flashed through my mind of a similar night in the past. Out of sheer fear, I flung my head back and collided into hers. I took advantage of the dizziness that she was experiencing due to the impact of the blow and levitated forward, choking and gasping for breath. I stumbled in the direction of the door, crashing into the furniture and shattering several statues and figurines. I almost made it to the door when she caught up with me.

"Clever trick, I almost lost the entire bottle of rat poison. Luckily there is still half of the concentrated mixture, which should be enough to kill you," she uttered the words menacingly, trapping my throat in a vise while pressing the foul-smelling potion on my lips. I clamped my mouth shut, hoping to delay her but she tightened her grip causing me to cough. She poured the scorching brew down my throat and my brain went blank. This was it. And the images of the past started to rush back, flooding my mind.

I collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain, as the poison took effect.

"Betty? What the hell!"

My mind registered the presence of another person in the room before I passed out.

Finally, she had done the deed. God help her but she was on a crusade to save the innocent. The demon had to be vanquished. She would seek a confession but she was certain the priest would forgive her. It was a pure act carried out in the name of the almighty. Betty knew she was to be released from the torment of Jeffrey's death for she had punished the wicked. She cackled with hysteria. Free, free at last!

Marcus stood frozen on the spot as a multitude of emotions warred inside his head. Why Jonathan?! Why?! He wanted to strangle, mutilate, kill that bitch sitting beside his boyfriend's motionless body, laughing insanely. But he had something more important to do, he had to save Jonathan first. He must.

"Baby, talk to me," he lifted Jonathan, shaking him. No response. Jonathan was foaming around the mouth and blood was dripping from his nose.

"Please, god no, not again. Please don't," he cried as he picked up Jonathan and staggered out of the room. This time the tears flowed freely for he could no longer contain them. He could not bear the thought of losing Jonathan again. He would move heaven and earth to save his lover.

Downstairs in the lobby, guests were starting to arrive for the party. The actual celebrations were held outside but it was customary for guests to meet with the host in his house first. Everyone stared when they saw him, bounding down the winding staircase in steps of two and three. Gabriel turned, took a look at his son and ran for the phone.

"Allow me, I'm a doctor," an old man stepped forward from a crowd that had started to gather. Marcus anxiously put Jonathan down after he skipped over the last few steps and landed on the tiled mosaic floor. His eyes were only on Jonathan's face and so failed to recognize the doctor.

"The ambulance is on its way," Gabriel said as he draped a comforting arm over his son's shoulder. Marcus covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

I opened my eyes and felt the familiar sensations of tubes inserted into my arms and nose. The beeping sound of the heartbeat monitoring machine could be heard as it ticked away in regular intervals. I was back in the hospital. Someone had tried to kill me again. A man's head was resting beside my hand on the bed. I recognized him immediately as Marcus.

"Sto..ner" I said with difficulty.

The head snapped up with a jerk and I saw a haggard face staring at me, his eyes puffy and swollen.

"I'm so sorry, JB," he croaked hoarsely.

I shook my head feebly to tell him it was not his fault.

"Noo..o" I stammered, my throat felt parched.

"Hush now. Baby, you should rest. Promise me," he filled a glass with water, dipped his finger into it and wet my lips.

I sucked on the fluid thirstily and nodded.

CHAPTER 3 (TO FORGIVE, TO FORGET AND TO HEAL)

I looked up expectantly as Marcus strode across the ward. He was wearing a polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. The doctors had said the poison was flushed out of my system in the nick of time before it could severely damage the internal organs. All I needed to recover was lots of rest. Marcus was very attentive, visiting me frequently during the past few weeks, each time bringing a new bouquet of roses and keeping me company, talking about everything from work to what he had for breakfast. He knew from the doctors I had regained my memory and filled me in on what had happened during the period I was in a coma. However, today he was unusually quiet and reserved.

"Hey," he greeted politely.

"Moody aren't we?" I joked, putting down the book I was reading. He didn't smile.

"Bad day?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Great day actually. I just finished proof-reading some contracts."

"You shouldn't be working over the weekend," I reminded him. He shrugged.

"Okay. No flowers today?" I teased.

"No," he stared at his feet.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" I probed.

"Huh? Oh, nothing," he lied, pulling out a chair.

I waited while he sat down.

"Well there are a few things I came to say actually," he said, when he realized I wasn't fooled.

"Betty was found guilty of murder yesterday but the judge had given her a lighter sentence in view of her being emotional unstable over the lost of her brother. She was placed under a rehabilitation program," he began, tucking my hand under the covers, all the while not looking me straight in the eye.

It was all outdated information. I had learnt from the news everything about the trial. Betty's brother Jeffrey had just died due to complications caused by the AIDS virus. She only knew he was gay on the day before he died. He didn't know how he had contracted the disease since he flirted a lot and freely had unsafe sex with strangers. She had blamed herself for her brother's death and when she returned and saw Marcus deeply involved with me, she had lost it. She didn't want Marcus to follow her brother's footsteps. Her lawyer had pleaded emotional distress for her unusual behavior.

"Do you hate her?" I inquired.

"Yes and I intend to make her pay. But what she had done had started me thinking about things between us," Marcus replied.

"What things?" My brows narrowed in puzzlement.

"Remember the first time when you were attacked? You sent me a note that enumerated the reasons why you were unsuitable for me and that we were never meant to be? After this incident, I think you were correct but it was the other way wrong. I'm not suitable for you."

"Why?" A sense of dread closed in on my heart. Was he serious?

"I almost killed you twice, caused you shame, put you through tormenting pain, watched you grow weaker each day unable to do anything to help and most important of all, I didn't have faith in you. I sucked as a boyfriend and you are better off with somebody else," he said the words like he was reading off from a script.

"I see. Apparently you have spent a lot of time thinking about this." I mumbled. He didn't answer and simply sat there, clutching at the folds of the covers.

"I have done some thinking of my own too. Since you have been so honest with me, I will share them with you. I agree with you." That got his attention.

"You are a lousy boyfriend. You shielded me as much as you could from the vicious tongues of the reporters without asking for my permission. You tried to save me after someone tried to take my life and then after that you want us to break up. Even when I made you lose everything that you owned, you stood by me. Oh you are heartless alright, you thought I betrayed you but you had to help me so as to make me feel guilty," I said, waiting for his reaction.

He stared at me incredulously, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"And not once have you told me you loved me," I scolded as hot tears scalded my cheeks.

"Jonathan Anderson Bancroft, I love you with all my heart," he professed, tenderly wiping away the tears on my face.

"Truly?" I asked, my lips trembling. He smiled and nodded, reached over and pressed my head firmly against his shoulder. I could hear the pounding of his blood and something damp landed on my face. I looked up to see him tearing.

"That wasn't so difficult was it?" I turned my head to lick his neck.

"For someone who had spent the last few days, tortured with thoughts of living without you, it was," he joked.

"Do you mind saying it again? I have been yearning to hear it since that first night I was attacked and you held me in your arms," I sniffed.

"I love you. I maybe a terrific businessman but I'm not very eloquent with words. You are the light in my soul," he said solemnly. My heart swelled with pride. Those were the most beautiful words I have ever heard and I told him that.

"You remembered what happened that night when you fought the assassin?"

"Bits and pieces of it," I replied.

"I didn't know you had the courage to fight the woman. I had wanted to tease you about it after I subdued her, but......" he shuddered and I felt the same waves of fear racking my body.

"It's over," I consoled him. I didn't know if I could forget that unlucky night but I didn't want to compound Marcus's pain.

He nodded. "I was prepared to die with you then. After you woke up from your coma, I was going to shelter you from all harm. When I again saw you lying on the floor of our bedroom unmoving, I lost it completely. I wanted to tear down the whole world just so you could live. Don't ever leave me again," he shook violently.

"It's over, let it go baby," I repeated, willing myself to do the same. It was a terrifying notion, to sacrifice the world for my life.

We sat there enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. I shifted my head a few times due to the uncomfortable position. Marcus noticed my discomfort, gently lifted my head and reclined it against a pillow.

"I don't believe I have ever cried so much before I met you, Stoner," I said.

"And I have never experienced this much fear in my life before I met you," he replied.

"I should thank Doctor Benjamin," he said.

"You don't bear a grudge against him for previously withholding the truth of my condition?"

"Not when he saved your life after Betty tried to poison you. He may not have been directly responsible for curing you but he did restore order to the chaotic situation that night. I was a total mess and could not help with anything," he admitted.

"I suppose this means you should forgive Betty too," I stated.

His eyes darkened as he said ruthlessly, "No, I intend to make her pay dearly."

"Will you do it if I ask you to?" I tackled the issue from another angle.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

He hesitated awhile. "Why?" I knew he wasn't going to relent this easily.

"Because she was misguided. Imagine yourself in her position and that her brother was me. If someone was there to comfort her and take away the guilt she felt, I think none of this would have happened. Besides she have been punished and we should give her a chance to repent," I explained.

"She tried to kill you," Marcus said, not convinced that it was a good idea.

"To forgive someone is the greatest gift. Have faith, Stoner," I preached.

"Who said that?" he asked, frowning.

"I did," I snickered.

"Imp," he teased.

"She's forgiven?"

"I can try," he answered truthfully. It was a small concession on his part and proof of his immense ability to indulge me. I was touched.

"Don't even think about begging for the Kensingtons," he warned.

"I haven't thought about that. I can't say I pity Patricia but James Kensington's an old man. Maybe..." he silenced me with his finger.

"No, JB."

I sucked his finger with my mouth, twirling my tongue along its length while moving forth and back. Marcus's eyes turned a molten silver and his jaw tightened. He heaved a sigh of ecstasy and pulled back his finger.

"JB give it up," he rolled his eyes as he saw through my ploy to soften him through sexual excitement.

"It didn't hurt to try," I grinned mischievously.

"Maybe if you did this," he kissed me swiftly, leaving me gasping for my breath.

"I need to get going," he mumbled and pushed away. I gazed dazedly at him still consumed by euphoria.

"I see two can play at the same game," he chuckled. I blushed and was slightly angry with his manipulations only to be pacified when he lightly stroke me on the cheeks.

"I was joking," he smiled. "I really have to leave. I'm supposed to meet Jason to discuss some business I have in Paris."

Eliot didn't anticipate Jonathan to call him at his office. He was even more surprised when Jonathan had requested for a one-to-one meeting with him at the orphanage in Houston. It was with trepidation as he parked his red Maserati outside the repainted building. Construction work was being done to expand the eastern section of the orphanage and he could see children playing in an enclosed playground with teachers watching them like hawks. Marcus's generous donations had certainly brought much desired changes to the place. An ancient-looking nun was resting on a rattan chair beside the playground.

"Eliot Troy?" the nun called as she saw him approached the main building.

Eliot blinked in surprise while the nun kept waving her hand in the air for him to come forth. Eliot complied.

"Nice to meet you," Eliot greeted courteously. He didn't feel it was polite to ask how she knew his name. Probably from the news or tabloids.

"I'm Sister Mary, Jonathan told me you were coming to visit," she smiled at him. Eliot took an immediate liking to her for there was something motherly and honest about her that attracted him.

"Now go child, Jonny's waiting in his room. It's on the second level," she motioned to the main building to a room with its window opened and blue curtains flapping in the wind.

"Thank you Sister," Eliot tipped his head and pressed a kiss on her wrinkled hand.

The inside of the building was reworked with fresh new oak planks for Eliot could see parts of the place where the chipped old pieces of wood crossed with the new. He wondered if the children still played in here when it rained. He stood outside the door with the name "Jonathan" carved on it and knocked.

"Come in," a soft voice said.

He turned the knob and entered.

The room had little furniture. A bed spread with clean sheets, a cupboard, a chair and a table that served multi-purposes. He remembered when he used to eat, sleep and study on a similar table eons ago.

"You must be Eliot. I'm Jonathan," the man said as he sat up from the bed. His black hair was cropped short and he was paler than the last time he had seen him in the papers. Eliot was certain he could see the man's skeleton if he examined him closely.

Eliot nodded and eased into a chair.

"You mentioned you had something important to tell me?" Eliot asked, cutting straight to the point. He had no idea why Jonathan had specifically wanted to meet him in the orphanage and he was disconcerted by the memories that flooded back with each passing minute.

"I want to thank you personally," Jonathan said.

"For?"

"For saving Marcus's career and our reputations."

"It was no trouble at all," Eliot replied. "Just doing what was right."

Jonathan cocked his head to the side as if inspecting him.

"If there's nothing else, I would like to leave," Eliot pushed back the chair and got ready to leave.

"Actually I could have just called you to thank you instead of insisting that you make a trip here," Jonathan said. Eliot stopped and sat back down.

"Suppose you tell me the reason?" Eliot suggested, he was uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation was taking.

"Actually that's my line," Jonathan joked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Why did you do it? We are not related to you plus Marcus had humiliated your family by buying over Troy Electronics. The reason I asked you here is because I felt it was the most suitable place. Don't ask me why, it's just a gut feeling. I feel close to you like we are brothers or something even though we haven't met before. And I'm right about meeting you here because I can sense you uneasiness about this place," Jonathan said, crossing his legs.

Eliot paused, battling the conflicting emotions that coursed through his mind. He was unsettled that Jonathan had felt the same way about him. Brothers, it was the appropriate term for this closeness he felt towards Jonathan and why he was obliged to betray Patricia in the first place.

"I was from an orphanage too. My biological mother had forsaken me when I was born but fortunately my father had adopted me and taken me under his wing," Eliot said.

"Robert Troy is your foster father?" Jonathan questioned.

"Yes and he happened to be my biological father as well. I only found out when I finished high school because my mother had returned and demanded custody of me unless my father paid her off. It seemed my father had impregnated her with child and left her. She was a minor when it had happened so it was going to be a complicated trial."

"What happened then?" Jonathan asked, listening attentively.

"Had my father done some investigations, he would have been able to win the case. However, at that time he was grieving the death of my foster mother who had just died and could not think clearly. Eventually, I chose him and the court had ruled in his favor. It turned out the woman who had given birth to me was no longer a virgin when she seduced my father. She was put up to the act by her father since the Troys were affluent and powerful and her father had known the Troys never neglect one of their own. Following this, my father had buried this scandalous part of my life and reconstructed another identity for me as being the youngest child of my foster mother."

"Does your brother know?" Jonathan asked, mentally recounting the little he knew about the Troys. Before Robert Troy's stroke, Roderick Troy was the only contesting candidate to the presidency of Troy Associates. However due to a scandal between Roderick and a loose woman, Robert had chosen Eliot instead.

"He knows. He had bet on this advantage he had over me when he announced his engagement with Celeste to my father. He believed our father would not let an illegitimate child take over the company. He was wrong. In his fit of anger, Dad had elected me as president," Eliot replied.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said slowly. Eliot could see Jonathan was shaken by the account and he could not blame him for he was feeling similar emotions.

"Patricia had tried to harm you and I had drawn from my past and knew how painful it was to be discarded in an orphanage like an unwanted child only to realize I was born as an instrument to gain wealth. But it must have been a whole lot more difficult for you because Patricia had edited it and turned you out to be a whore since youth. You really don't have to feel grateful because in helping you I have somehow been able to reconcile with my past. I knew I had managed to save someone as unlucky as I was and gave him the chance at a new life just as I once had."

"Thank you," Jonathan said, as he approached Eliot and covered his hands in a comforting grip. Despite the coldness and bony feel of Jonathan's hand, Eliot felt his sincerity.

"No problem, brother," Eliot smiled, unknowingly using the familiar term.

"It would be my honor to be considered as your brother," Jonathan returned the smile.

It was to be the beginning of a long-standing kinship, albeit with its ups and downs.

CHAPTER 4 (GIFTS)

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, straightening the blue floral bow tie I was wearing. There were still some parts in the blue tuxedo that would be filled up if I had a few more weeks of intensive workout. I had put on some weight over the last month since my bonding with Eliot and my face was a rosy pink instead of white but I was still too thin. We were scheduled to attend a fund-raising charity show followed by a quiet dinner with Eliot at an exclusive hill-top restaurant.

Marcus had already put on his shoes and was appreciating the view.

"Stop ogling like I'm a piece of meat," I rolled my eyes at him.

"I know you are," he walked over and wrapped his arms around my middle, effectively ruining all my effort at fixing the tie.

"We are going to be late for the charity event," I reminded him.

"I think we have enough time to spare," he replied, his hands already unbuttoning my shirt and slipping in to caress my chest.

"I don't want to miss having a chance to speak with Eliot before the thing starts," I closed my eyes as his fingers found my nipples and pinched softly. Eliot called to say he should be back just in time to attend the charity show and the dinner after he settled some business in Tokyo. He had mentioned he had something important to show me. Something that I would be overjoyed at seeing.

"The bed is just a few paces away," Marcus whispered seductively as he rested his chin on my shoulders and nibble my neck.

"It's not polite to be late when you are the guest of honor," I protested, already drowning in the sensuous spell he was weaving.

"I couldn't care less," he answered.

He stripped off my clothes, attacking my belt as I squatted on the bed, with hunger burning in his eyes and almost tore my pants into shreds in his rush. He freed my gorging meat from the restrictive Calvin Klein underwear and covered it with his avaricious mouth. I drew in a sharp breath as he moistened my cock with his saliva, closing in and expanding as his head bobbed forward and back. Low moans gurgled in my throat.

"Mmmmm," I licked my lips as I felt my dick hardened.

Marcus increased the tempo and all I could do was to clutch his shirt as he brought on my orgasm with his mouth. I came with scalding ferocity, spilling my juice into his mouth while he drank it ravenously. We remained still, me on top of him while he was in a crouching position with my prong still in his mouth, waiting for my shudders to subside.

I reached tentatively to his groins, jerked at the zipper of his pants and rubbed his club through the underpants. He withdrew his mouth and let out a guttural groan as I pulled out his manhood and masturbated him with my hands. I played with his toy like a kid with a rubber band, stretching until he was near breaking point where the veins were bloated with blood and releasing suddenly. Before long he came, his cum erupting like a volcano and his hips bucked due to the explosion.

"That felt great," he said, embracing me tenderly.

"Only great?" I teased.

"Okay, stupendously, incredibly and fucking great," he proclaimed.

"You owe me a dollar for that," I answered sagely, referring to his use of the forbidden 'f' word.

"I will gladly give you a thousand," he smiled.

Just then there was a knock on the door.

"Marc, the limousine's waiting at the door," Gabriel called.

Marcus muttered a curse while I looked on in horror. Neatly ironed clothes were strewn on the floor and our carefully styled hair was a mess.

"Now I'm never going to be able to speak with Eliot first," I grumbled.

"Luckily we didn't make out in the limo," Marcus cheerfully predicted.

"Don't you dare make fun of the situation," I glared at him.

"Okay I'm sorry, don't get all bitchy with me," he grinned.

In the end we settled for black tuxedoes. Fortunately we arrived just ten minutes before the event started and didn't attract much attention, even though some reporters had already snapped a few photos of us. They didn't get a clear shot since I was shielded by Marcus's coat and several bodyguards. Marcus had managed to block any media from taking pictures of me after news of Betty's failed murder spread like wildfire.

We had an obstructed view of the stage from our box. Two bodyguards were stationed to the left and right of the balcony. Several people waved their hands at Marcus from the other boxes and he nodded a silent greeting. I recognized some of them to be senators and celebrities but I couldn't find Eliot. It seemed only our box had two seats while the others had at least four occupants. I didn't ask Marcus the reason thinking it was because he was the guest of honor. The hall was crowded and there was loud talking going on as people awaited for the show to begin.

"Looking for Eliot?" Marcus asked as he picked up the programme sheet.

"I can't seem to find him," I said. Eliot wasn't one to default on his words. Did something happen to him?

"JB, you won't have to lie in my arms for the entire evening," Marcus said as he placed the programme sheet on the low table before us, mistaking my pensive look as worry over being hounded by the press.

I had hidden my face in his arms the last time we went to an opera. It was the first time we had went out together after more than two years of estrangement. There were several reporters chasing us like bloodhounds. Marcus had fumed with cold anger then.

"It's okay. I was just shy then. I can handle them this time round," I assured him, even though I still trembled at the scary memories of being recognized on the streets and being hounded everywhere I went.

"Don't worry, you don't have to hide anymore in future," he promised.

He saw my baffled look and said," I have just became the major shareholder of some of the largest media corporations in the world."

"You are joking right?" I couldn't stop my mouth from gaping wide with astonishment.

"Nope. I figured if I can't win them why not join them," he answered, shaking his head.

"And then it occurred to me they probably wouldn't annoy someone who contributed funds to the company by panting after his boyfriend's photo," he provided.

"Does this means you can influence the news?" I asked incredulously.

"Perhaps. It is illegal though to some extent, depending on how one argues the case," he said.

"Did you do it for me? Or it was a strategic business move?" I said presumptuously. Marcus loved me but I didn't think he would go to such extents to protect me.

"Yes, I did it for you. I have no interest in running a news station or a magazine," he confirmed.

"This is dumb. I hid in your arms because I was nervous and naturally didn't want to face the media. You don't have to buy something you don't like," I muttered.

"I already have a group of executives who are going to represent me during the board meetings and take care of the business. Besides it's beneficial to Viacom sales since we can save on advertising amongst other things," he replied.

"Are you trying to say it's a good move business-wise?" I inquired.

"If it's enough to make you stop worrying," he held my hands and patted them.

"And you had something to do with us being isolated tonight?" I said, as the thought struck me.

"Of course. I specifically mentioned I want a box for two when they invited us. Not to mention that I sent out a memo earlier on that I don't want any our pictures to be taken. Which reminds me I will have to find out which company those people outside belonged to," he ascertained, fiddling with my fingers.

I was touched and kissed him on the cheeks. He looked at me with surprise.

"I think I will do this more often if it means I get to be kissed without warning," he smiled.

"The shareholder or the box?" I rested my head on his chest.

"Both," he answered.

"Are you saying I'm not spontaneous enough?" I teased.

"I think I will give you an answer after I judge your performance in bed tonight," he joked. I thumped him on the chest with my fists and he laughed even harder.

"Stop it. Everyone's looking," I chided.

"I don't give a damn," he grinned. But he had quieted. I knew he wasn't bothered by the opinions of others but he was concerned what others thought of me.

"Mr. Stone, they are requesting for the signal to start the event," one of the bodyguards said as he listened attentively to a message transmitted to his ear-piece. I recognized him as Brady, captain of the team of bodyguards that was responsible for our safety.

Marcus urged me to pick up the firecracker. I did as he told and lit the short stick of fireworks. The firecracker cracked open in a myriad of colorful lights and streamers. There was a round of applause as the curtains were raised.

The show was spectacular. All of the performers had put in their best to raise funds for Aids foundations around the world, some of them walking tight-ropes while some attempted to charm snakes, just so the audience and hopefully those who were watching from their homes would make a phone call to contribute to their cause. It spoke volumes for their dedication to charity when most of these performers were actors, scriptwriters and even clerks, with only a few weeks training in the feats that they were supposed to display. However, what tugged at my heart and I imagined several others, was the courageous speech by the girl who was born with the virus but still strove to lead a better life in spite of her illness.

"I don't like to see you cry," Marcus said, tenderly drying my tears with his handkerchief.

"Couldn't help myself," I sniffed.

"Softie," he teased and squeezed my hands.

"I feel sorry for the girl. I would like to do something to help her," I said.

"Like a contribution?" Marcus asked. I nodded.

"I'm broke right now, after donating a hundred thousand to secure us the guest of honor seat," he joked but he was already instructing one of the bodyguards to make a phone call.

"A hundred thousand?!" I was taken aback by his extravagance. I was still having difficulty trying to absorb the fact that we were no longer trying to eke out a living, budgeting every cent we had. A few weeks ago, Marcus had wanted to give me half of everything he owned but I had rejected his offer since I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do with it. Now, he had spent a fortune just to get a seat to a charity show.

"So how large of a sum are we looking at?" he grinned as Brady gave him a tiny cell phone. Loud clapping could be heard coming from below as one of the performers successfully juggled eight plates in the air.

"Uhm......" I hesitated, still trying to make up my mind.

"Mr. Stone, call for you, I will transfer it to the cell," Brady interrupted.

Marcus picked up the call and listened, his gray eyes moving intelligently as thoughts went through his mind quickly.

"I have an idea," he said after awhile, whispered into the phone before disconnecting the call. He made another call, said something inaudible and hung up.

"What did you do? And why the secrecy?" I looked at him in confusion.

"Actually we but you will know in a second," he promised and draped his other arm across my shoulders, chuckling as he ignored my frown.

The juggling act had just finished and the masters of ceremony were introducing the next item when a member of the backstage crew rushed forward and gave them a slip of paper, following that a group of four men carried a small painting onto the stage.

"We...have..just been infor..med," the lady speaker stuttered, gulping audibly over the microphone.

"We have just been informed," her male counterpart repeated, covering her tracks. "Mr. Eliot Troy, president of Troy Associates, has donated a piece of painting he had found in Tokyo and Mr. Jason Smith, vice-president of Viacom Enterprises has offered to pay a hundred thousand for it. In a show of goodwill, Mr. Troy has also contributed another hundred thousand, in addition to the painting."

"Un...Unfortunately, Mr. Smith is currently in Beijing on a business trip while Mr. Troy is on his way back from Tokyo so we are unable to formally thank them," the woman said, regaining her composure.

"The painting is the work of a Mr. Jon B. As of now we still verifying the identity of the artist," the man added.

Just then a man stepped briskly forward and handed the two speakers another note. The female speaker took a look at the paper and gave a small cry of delight while her male co-host was too moved to comment. An expectant hush has fallen over the crowd as they anxiously awaited the news.

"We....," said the man, his voice cracking,"...have confirmed that the painting is the work of a Mr. Jonathan Bancroft. Incidentally, Mr. Bancroft is the elusive boyfriend of our guest of honor, Mr. Marcus Stone, president of Viacom Enterprises. In view of this unusual circumstance, Mr. Smith has withdrawn his bid for the painting and made it a donation to our cause instead."

"And...and.." the lady tried to continue but was still too overwhelmed.

"And," the man said, coming to her rescue again," in addition to the donations he had made previously, Mr. Stone has just consented to appropriating a million dollars as payment for the painting. This brings us to a grand total of 1.2 million dollars in cash. On behalf of tonight's fund-raising committee, we would like to thank Mr. Smith, Mr. Troy, Mr. Stone and Mr. Bancroft for their generosity."

There was a deafening round of cheering as the crowd was in a furore. I couldn't believe my ears.

"Happy?" Marcus smiled, ruffling my hair while I noticed people straining to stare into our box. Brady was already standing infront, effectively blocking me from sight. It didn't occur to me then that the stage manager hadn't focused the spotlight in our direction as would have been the norm, which would have exposed me regardless of where Brady and the other bodyguard stood. Marcus had meant it when he said no reporter was to get my picture.

I didn't know what to say. To say I felt pampered and loved was an understatement. I kissed Marcus fiercely on the lips to show my appreciation. It was the only gift I could think to give him at that time. He kissed me back with matching passion and I knew Marcus had deemed it a suitable reward.

"I suppose we should head home after this, since Eliot won't be meeting us for dinner," Marcus whispered against my lips.

Eliot chuckled as he tried to imagine Jonathan's surprise when he knew what he, Marcus and Jason had done. He had originally thought it would make a nice present if he could locate a painting previously done by Jonathan while he was in Japan and bring it back. After some investigations, he had managed to trace the artwork to the house of an American doctor who had recently moved from New York to Tokyo. Jason was let in on the plan and he had fully supported it. However due to bad weather, his flight was delayed and he was unable to show the painting to Jonathan, prior to the charity show as he had promised. He probably wouldn't make it for dinner as well. He had phoned Marcus, hoping to inform Jonathan that he would not be able to make it and Marcus had came up with the surprise when he heard about the painting.

"Eliot Troy speaking, who's this?" Eliot said as he pressed a flashing green button to receive the call.

"Yo, Jason here," a jerky voice replied. The connection was pretty bad since it was a long distance call from Beijing.

"Hi Jason, I believe Marcus just spoke to you on the phone?" Eliot said.

"Yup, he did. Great idea but still a hundred thousand's a little steep" Jason lamented.

"Don't be such a miser," Eliot chided.

"Do I need to remind you that I don't have a fat bank account like Marcus and you?" Jason retorted.

"My brother's your friend, do you have to be so calculative? Besides your account is only a little less plump than ours," Eliot said, slightly annoyed.

"Have you been checking on me?" Jason prodded, his voice holding a hint of sarcasm.

"Do you seriously think I would not have a dossier on your current financial status before I decide to invest in your new company?"

"I didn't know you were that smart. I remember I had to teach you how to negotiate your first deal," Jason's voice was faltering as the connection worsened.

"Are you trying to provoke me? If you are, you are succeeding," Eliot said dryly.

"Oh I have to run, have to switch off all digital equipment for security purposes. Check back on you later. By the way, heard that you are experiencing turbulent weather. Give me a call if you make it back to New York in one piece," Jason said before the line went dead.

Eliot muttered. Jason always hit a raw nerve in him whenever they conversed, it was like they were natural enemies. They had became closer after Jonathan sought Jason to mentor Eliot in the workings of various business processes when he had found out Eliot was having difficulty coping. Jason had been pleasant initially but degenerated to bullying and whining when he had gotten to know Eliot better. Subsequently, they had bickered every time like siblings. It was strange that he had never quarreled that much with Jonathan even though they were hailing each other as brothers. It was even more baffling that Eliot had actually missed the verbal sparring sessions with Jason and they had barely known each other for a month.

CHAPTER 5 (A DESPERATE CRY FOR HELP)

The young boy squealed like a pig as the cane made direct contact with his bottoms. He had lost count of how many times the man had spanked him. It was his fault for antagonizing him, for not acing his Biology paper, even though he had spent nights foregoing sleep to study for it. He knew he wasn't smart like the rest of the kids but where he lacked in, he made up with hard work. But it still wasn't enough, not where his father was concerned. He knew he was going to die if he didn't get at least ninety marks for the Physics paper tomorrow. There was only one person he could turn to for help. But would he save him? Could he?

Marcus looked up as Jason strode into the cafeteria with a wide smile on his face. He didn't expect him back this early from his trip to Beijing. Jonathan was equally shocked. Eliot choked on his coffee.

"I'm back!" Jason exclaimed jubilantly, as the bodyguards parted to let him pass.

"I thought your plane had met with an accident while flying across the Pacific," Eliot commented wryly but Marcus noted the smile Eliot was trying to conceal without success. Something was going on between the two of them.

"Nice to have you back," Jonathan said as he got the waiter to prepare another seat at the table.

"When are you expected to start production?" Marcus asked, skipping over the details of how Jason negotiated the deal with the Chinese government and the locals. Marcus knew Jason always prevailed.

"Latest by next month. There are some documents that need to be approved by our Ministry of Foreign Trade but it should no problem. Of course, there is still the question of capital," Jason cast a hopeful look at Marcus and Eliot.

"There is something called 'humility' when you are trying to win over an investor," Eliot snorted.

"Geesh, Eliot. Don't expect me to beg you," Jason threw up his hands in an exaggerated show of desperation.

"Maybe I should issue a note to the accounts department to delay the bank transfer," Eliot said.

"Then I will have to kick your ass right now," Jason threatened.

"For my sake, can you two please be civil? Congratulations on the deal Jason, I guess this means you will be leaving Viacom soon?" Jonathan said, assuming the role of mediator. Marcus bit back a smile, he was wondering when Jonathan would put a stop to this foolishness.

"Not my fault, big brother," Eliot whined.

"Oh just shaddup, you weakling," Jason snapped.

Jonathan burst out laughing before adding," I can't believe this. I'm actually telling two high-powered executives who could send Wall Street crashing how to behave."

"Baby, you are flattering them," Marcus grinned and reached for Jonathan's hand.

"Didn't mean to make you jealous, love," Jonathan replied.

"Apologize with a kiss," Marcus suggested, his eyes turning sultry.

"Ewe," Jason and Eliot chorused. Everyone laughed.

"I have already transferred the cash to Smith Technologies and approved your resignation. You can start working on your company anytime, Jason," Marcus stated.

"Thanks, Marc," Jason said, pouring coffee into the cup that the waiter had just placed before him.

"Same here. I have already authorized the bank transfer. You should get the cash in a matter of days." Eliot concurred. There was a silent greeting as Jason looked at Eliot with a profound expression on his face. Something went off in Marcus's head but he didn't give it much notice.

"Oh before I forget," Jonathan began," Thanks for the kind donations. I hadn't expected the painting, little brother," Jonathan shot a grateful look at Eliot.

"Think nothing of it, bro. Besides, you did pay a million dollars for it," Eliot teased.

"Not me, Marc did," Jonathan corrected.

"Hullo? Are we done with flaunting each other's wealth?" Jason interrupted.

"It's none of your business, Jason," Eliot growled.

Marcus patted Jonathan's hand as he saw him turned his eyes to the ceiling. He didn't want to distress his boyfriend further by telling him he found Jason's and Eliot's squabbling entertaining.

"Jon, there's a call for you," Brady said as he tapped a finger on the ear-piece.

"Thanks, Brady. Can you transfer it to the cell?" Jonathan said as he took the phone from the bodyguard's outstretched hands.

Marcus marveled at Jonathan's ability to make friends with almost anyone but he also feared that he would be hurt by mixing with the wrong company. In less than a few hours time he was on a first name basis with the captain of their security team. Marcus didn't approve of it but Jonathan had insisted on being friendly with him since he was responsible for their safety. Marcus had indulged him because he knew it made Jonathan happy.

Jonathan spoke briefly into the phone, listened and his face instantly darkened.

"What is it?" Marcus asked.

"That was from Andrew," Jonathan answered.

"Andrew? As in the brother from the family that disowned you?" Marcus's brows furrowed with displeasure.

"Yes. It was Anthony's and Margaret's idea. Andrew has nothing to do with it," Jonathan explained, carefully avoiding the use of the word 'parents' for he could not think of them in such terms even though he no longer hated them.

"That's what you believe. You gave Andrew this number? I specifically told you that nobody from that treacherous family of yours is to have this number," Marcus snapped.

"It is my number and I can give it to anyone I like," Jonathan protested.

"Chill guys, what's going on here?" Jason asked while Eliot remained quiet. Jason gave Eliot a questioning look, Eliot shook his head to indicate he was as lost as Jason.

"Ask Jonathan," Marcus bit out.

"Fine," Jonathan retaliated," Mr. Stone here has judged my brother Andrew to be poor company just because he is associated with the people who had disowned me."

"You forgot to mention they had called and tried to blackmail us awhile back until I cowed them with threats of lawsuits that they are never going to win," Marcus said sarcastically.

"Blackmail? What blackmail? Bro, you should have told me," Eliot said.

"Eliot don't bother. I was only aware of what was going on when one of the branch executive in Minnesota complained about a Mr. Anthony Bancroft was delaying payment for goods he had bought in our retail stores there, claiming he was related to me," Marcus said, "And I did some checking and found that our friend, Jonathan here has authorized several of these purchases."

"He said he would disown Andrew if I did not comply," Jonathan argued. "Andrew's like a son to me being twelve years my junior."

"Whoa slow down. So this Anthony person is the one who disowned Jonathan more than two years ago when news of Jonathan's affair with Marcus broke out and he has a son named Andrew, who happens to be like a son to Jonathan or is it brother?" Jason looked on, bewilderment clearly present on his face. He had forgotten about the cup of coffee in his hand.

"Andrew was born shortly after I was adopted by Anthony and I have taken care of him since he was a baby. We were brothers but deep down, I think we both knew I was more of a surrogate father as Anthony and his spouse were forever out partying, even though we could hardly make ends meet. Andrew didn't enjoy the bliss of a happy family when he was young and I couldn't bear to put him through the pain of being disowned. It would have been devastating for him since he is the flesh and blood of Anthony and Margaret. To be disowned was equivalent to being abandoned," Jonathan sought Eliot's help with his eyes.

"I understand, bro," Eliot comforted.

"Still I think it's silly of you, Jon. No offense. It could all be a ploy, since we know how money-minded your parents are. Andrew could be in cahoots with them since he knew you would be vulnerable and what better way to get a share of Marcus's money than to make use of your compassion. Not that being benevolent to a fellow human being is bad, but sometimes we have to be careful with whom we are kind to." Jason said.

"My thoughts exactly," Marcus agreed.

"Anyway I'm flying down to Minnesota to see Andrew. I'm worried he would do something stupid. He sounded so frightened," Jonathan said firmly.

"You are not making the trip. I forbid you," Marcus said coldly.

"I didn't ask you for your permission," Jonathan burst out and quickly added when he accurately interpreted Marcus's mocking grin," I have some savings of my own so I won't need to ask you for money."

"Bro, you can take my personal jet," Eliot offered quietly.

Both Jason and Marcus glowered at Eliot.

I sat alone on the bed in the guest room, unable to shut my eyes. I was terrified. What did Andrew mean when he said he was done with? I had a bad feeling when I found out my parents had moved to Minnesota just recently. Just then the door opened to let in a faint ray of yellowish orange light.

"JB?" Marcus asked.

"If you are here to persuade me not to go, please leave," I said.

Marcus closed the door and walked over to sit beside me in the darkness.

"I came to apologize. I was too harsh earlier today," he said.

"I know you don't like Anthony or Margaret. I don't blame you but I can't bring myself to detest them with your virulence. They did bring me out of the orphanage regardless of their motives. And I can't stand by and do nothing if Andrew's in trouble. He is like a part of me," I told him.

"I understand but you cannot expect me to subscribe to how you feel towards your parents," Marcus said.

"I didn't ask you to accept. I just want you to understand and give me your support." I admonished with exasperation.

"I know but I was afraid for you," he admitted.

"Why?" I asked incredulously.

"You trust people too easily and completely. That is a virtue but it is also dangerous to you. You must realize we are no longer your everyday couple. There are people out there who would do anything to you just to get to me. The same goes for Jason and even Eliot. Eliot has Jason to protect him while you have me but I constantly fear that what I do may not be enough since you almost died twice even after all the precautions that I have taken," he replied.

I gazed at him quietly, silently contemplating what he had just said.

"Sometimes you infuriate me with your unreasonable attitude but just as suddenly, you move me with your words," I said tearfully, affected by his tender profession.

"So am I forgiven, JB?" he asked a little uncertainly.

"I could never be angry with you for long, Stoner," I said and laid my head on his back.

"Because I'm irresistibly handsome?" he teased.

"Only when all the cute guys in the world are extinct," I said and Marcus laughed.

He sobered after awhile and announced ,"I'm going with you to Minnesota."

"Serious?" I inquired.

"I can't possibly let my boyfriend travel in another man's plane can I?" he smiled.

"You were prepared to do that several hours ago," I reminded him.

His smile faded and he said solemnly," I didn't mean it, not even when I wanted to mock you about how you intend to make the trip without any money. I was just angry. Whatever is mine is yours to use."

"I know. I was just joking," I giggled.

"Next time, joke about something else, please. For a moment, I thought I had put a barrier between us with my insensitive mention of money," he begged.

"You were just being practical. I know, Stoner."

I kissed him slowly, working my way into his sweater. My fingers crawling along his muscled back, enticing him with my feathery light touch as my hands explored his big body while at the same time I undressed him. I massaged his back, loosening the tight knots around the shoulders and neck, glowing with pleasure as he moaned softly. Moments later, his large palms reached for my neck, pulled me down and his mouth locked with mine in a passionate kiss.

He was enormous, laying naked on the bed and I tingled with part excitement and part fear as my hands roamed the taut, firm muscles around his abdomens and arms. Even though we had made love several times, I still felt awkward and small before him. I worked my way to his penis, pulling back the foreskin, cleaning him with my left finger while I stroked him with my right palm. His cock swelled into a gigantic erection immediately as desire pulsed through him. I was about to position myself over him as always when he stopped me.

"No, love. Tonight, I want to feel you inside me," he said, embracing me, his phallus pressed against my stomach as he grabbed my dick. I was rigid within seconds and gingerly I slid into his welcoming hole.

"You feel so......" I shuddered as I felt his muscles clenched against my highly-sensitized prong.

"Tight?" he provided, gasping and bubbling with amusement at my tentative loss of speech. It would have been funny were I not too preoccupied with the task at hand. His legs lifted and encumbered me as he tried to help speed up my progress.

"Yes, yes," he shouted. It seemed like ages before I was fully sheathed in his throbbing, silky warmth and I thought I was going to die with pleasure. Then he started to rock, back and forth, his hips moving voluntarily and I realized what the big deal fucking was. Overwhelmed by a raw animal instinct I didn't know I possessed, my hands clawed at his thighs as I humped him, each time faster and harder, until his stick stopped bouncing and sprayed a hot stream of cum onto my body.

"I'm...going to cum," I stammered, my eyes closed shut as I savored the sensations of my mounting climax.

"Cum in me," he begged and I came inside his butthole, filling him with my love-juice.

"Oh god," he groaned as the hot fluid burned his insides.

I cuddled close to him when I have spent myself and he folded his arms around me. My cock was still embedded deep inside of him.

"That was the best fuck we have ever had," I told him truthfully, not caring that I used the forbidden word because it felt right.

"I agree. I missed you, JB" Marcus confessed. Marcus had insisted that we not try this position because it was physically strenuous to me. I had thought it silly because making love with him was always tiring. But this time had far surpassed all our lovemaking since my recovery.

"I didn't think bareback sex is this painful," I said," Else I would have been more gentle when I rode you." We had almost always used condoms for safety reasons.

"I told you I love it when you are rough with me. But if you like, next time we will use some lube when you enter me again," he said.

"There's a next time?" I said without thinking before realizing how dumb that question was.

"Of course. I can tell that you enjoy being inside of me," he chuckled and I blushed, aware that I still had my naked club stuck in his asshole.

"But I won't be using lube when I take you though, unless it's your saliva," he laughed even louder when I covered my face in his neck, turning shades of red and pink.

"Or semen," he added. I bit his neck and he yowled.

"By the way what do you mean by Eliot has Jason to protect him?" I asked, suddenly remembering the peculiar sentence he had said.

"Just a feeling I have. They are awfully close don't you think?" he answered with a question.

"What are you trying to say, Stoner? That Jason and Eliot are gay?" I yawned, a dense fog settling over my consciousness. It was a ridiculous notion.

"Never mind," Marcus said and he tucked my head into the hollow of his neck.

We laid there, breathing in each other's scent and leisured ourselves with the drowsy warmth that emanated from our bodies. I didn't know I had dozed off until I felt lukewarm water drizzling down my body. Marcus was cleaning both of us in the shower and I accepted his ministrations being too lazy to move. Soon he was drying us off with a towel and I found myself back on the soft bed with his arms around me.

CHAPTER 6 (RESCUE)

The boy crumpled the test paper as he replaced the receiver on the cradle, staggering out of the phone booth in a daze. He didn't care if everyone saw the large bruise around his left eye which he had hidden with a pair of sunglasses nor did he feel the scorching pain in his back and buttocks as he walked down the hallway, making his way out of the school. He saw his death in a few days when the results were to be released. It was a tough paper and he had only completed three out of four questions. It was much better than what most students had done but it wasn't sufficient to give him ninety marks even if he scored full marks for each question attempted. His brother had promised to come but he wasn't convinced he would make it in time. He could only pray.

"Are you crazy?!" Margaret Bancroft yelled at her husband," Why did you hit Andrew? It was just a test for christ sake. He is your son."

"He is your son not mine," Anthony Bancroft shouted, "How long did you intend to keep it from me? Were it not for the blood donation drive, I would never have found out!"

"It was just a harmless fling after our marriage," she protested lamely. The truth was she had sex with too many men, so much so that she didn't remember whose son Andrew was and Anthony had seemed like a potential father after they adopted Jonathan.

"Liar! You whore, do you think I'm blind to all those affairs you had? I figured it didn't matter so long as you practiced safe sex and that they paid you for your services," he enunciated each word, striking out with all the venom he had stored over the years.

"You weren't a saint yourself either! Those old women you bedded just for money. When I think back to how your filthy hands touched my body after worshipping their saggy breasts and wrinkled skin, I could vomit," she retorted.

"You fucking slut! Well, you better pray that worthless Andrew of yours makes enough for us to spend when we are too old to be contacted for our skills in bed. That Jonathan and his rich gay husband isn't going to be giving us a cent."

"You insisted that I break off all contacts with him!" she screamed at the man she had once thought suave and gallant.

"Do you want the bloody press to chase after us everywhere we went? No decent customer would have wanted to go out with us and you can kiss goodbye to all those glamorous parties you love."

There was a long silence as both regarded each other. Margaret, not one to put up a fight when she saw reason, took the first step to a reconciliation. It was a tenacious truce but it suited both their purposes.

"Try to be more lenient when Andrew fumbles in his next test," Margaret conceded. She knew it was for the best.

"Don't be such a nagging fuck. I won't beat him to his death. I don't want to be charged with murder," Anthony grumbled.

Both of them were too absorbed in their conversation to notice the door clicking shut and a boy stealing out of the house through the kitchen with a cassette recorder in his hand.

We checked into a nearby hotel as soon as we got off the private jet. It was a freighter with a holding capacity of two hundred passengers converted into a luxurious travelling plane, complete with a master bedroom, two guestrooms, a conference room, a kitchen, a walk-in closet and three separate bathrooms. Marcus had bought the expensive piece for a hefty twenty million because of its moderate size since it could enter, refill and leave an airport in a matter of minutes without much hassle. It had suited his needs as he and his team flew regularly around the world. The last occupant had been Jason when he was in Beijing to negotiate a deal.

I had tried to contact Andrew at the school but the registrar said he was on medical leave, his parents had called in to say Andrew had contacted chicken pox. I saw through the lie, Andrew already had chicken pox before. Something was amiss. Marcus rented a plain jeep with a local license plate and Brady drove us by the address I got from the registrar after Marcus pulled some strings at the education board. It was a small semi-detached house, with a tiny garden plot in the front that was an unattended shambles of stones and weeds.

After two days of spying, I was convinced Andrew was locked up somewhere inside the house because it was unlike Anthony or Margaret to take turn at leaving the house. They usually went out to party together. But it wasn't sufficient proof and we couldn't get the police to apply for a search warrant unless we were absolutely sure. Brady suggested we get one of the bodyguards to sneak into the house. Marcus was against it because he didn't want to risk making ourselves vulnerable to Anthony lest we were wrong about Andrew's location. A few more days went by and I thought our break came when Andrew's Physics teacher, a petite lady in her fifties, walked up to the house to deliver his results. I had asked her to pass a note to Andrew, telling him that I was waiting for him outside the house. Her request to see him was denied and she had reluctantly returned the note to me.

That night as we parked several blocks away from the house, I saw the light switched on for the first time in what must be an attic. Without any fore warning, I retched violently. Marcus had a paper bag ready and we were spared the trouble of having to clean up the car. Marcus had taken a look at my condition and consented to Brady's plan. I knew he was worried for me but I was terrified too because I never felt this way before.

"Better?" Marcus asked, patting my back.

"No," I answered, wiping my mouth with his handkerchief.

"It's probably an over-reaction due to anxiety. You should relax, they won't hurt Andrew because he is their son," Marcus consoled.

"I can't say for sure," I paused, looking for the right words to explain this weird feeling I was experiencing," The more I thought about it, the more I am convinced Andrew's not Anthony's son. He resembled Margaret alright but he never looked or behaved like Anthony in any respect."

"Are you certain?" Marcus said skeptically. Despite his doubts, my boyfriend was still willing to trust my instincts.

"Very," I confirmed.

"Mr. Stone, one of my men has found a boy tied up in the attic. They can only locate his presence with the thermo-scan. There is another woman in the house, she's on the ground floor," Brady said.

"It must be Andrew," I exclaimed," Brady can you get your men to save him now?"

"Not yet. Brady get me Senator Wilhelm," Marcus counter-ordered.

Brady made the call using the car phone and handed it over to Marcus. I was too distraught to take note of what transpired between Marcus and the Senator.

"Now we wait," Marcus said after he hung up.

"Why?" I questioned, not wanting to waste another minute.

"Trust me," Marcus replied. I did as he said.

The boy tried to squirm about and wiggle his toes to keep himself from passing out. The stench of rotten food was everywhere and a hungry rat scampered beneath his nose as it searched for food. His father, or rather the monster that posed as his father, had beaten him again today. Not once did his mother interfered. They had found out that he overheard what they had said that afternoon when he accidentally blurted out everything during dinner the same day. The beast had tied him up, blindfolded him, gagged him and hanged him from the ceiling of the attic. After that was a blur of flogging using sticks, batons and whips. He had thought his mother was going to save him when she had cried on the first day the torture started. But she didn't. He had given up on her. He didn't know if his brother would come but he kept his image in his mind each time the pain became unbearable, willing him to save him. He was his only hope.

"Mr. Stone, the police are here," Brady said, as a series of sirens wailed in the night.

"Let's go," Marcus nodded.

By the time we drove up to the house, the police had already secured the place. Margaret was aghast with fear when she saw me ran through the door and dashed up to the attic. Anthony was nowhere to be seen. Two policemen stood at attention outside the attic door and I vaguely heard one of them call for the paramedics. Marcus had stayed below to speak with the cops.

"Drew?" I cried, startled by the scene unfolding before me. I barely recognized the partially naked, brutalized form of my baby brother, his shirt torn while marks covered his torso. His denim jeans were discarded in a heap and a male officer was trying to keep the rats away from him. I grabbed his body and shook him vigorously, willing him to wake up.

"Wake up, Drew, it's me," I kept on saying, tears gushing out without control. A nauseous feeling crept over me and the foul smell that lingered in the air made it worse. At 5'4", he was quite tall for a boy of his age but all I could think of was the hundreds of wounds that riddled his body. Some were openly bleeding while others had dried up. There were large patches of blue and black bruise marks as well. I didn't think anyone could be this cruel to want to hurt an innocent boy so.

"Jon?" he whispered weakly, his eyelids barely lifted.

"Yes it's me. You are going to be fine," I comforted him, brushing away the tears using the sleeves of my shirt.

"He hurt me so bad," he sobbed, his body convulsing in pain.

"Don't worry, you are safe now," I said vehemently.

"Don't let him touch me again, please," he pleaded, his glazed eyes staring through me as if looking at an apparition.

"I promise," I kissed him on the forehead like I used to when he was a baby.

"Scout's honor?" he asked, a faint smile on his lips.

"Scout's honor," I lifted his right hand and hooked my baby finger with his, careful to his hand down gently. Andrew closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Mr. Bancroft, the paramedics are here," the officer who was in the room said.

"Can I at least carry him to the ambulance?"

The officer looked at both of us and nodded reluctantly, "If you can manage."

I was halfway down the staircase when I saw Marcus waiting at the bottom of the steps. His grim look darkened significantly when he saw the boy in my arms. I shook my head to let him know I didn't need his help. Brady and two other bodyguards surrounded us immediately the moment I reached Marcus's side. I could see three policemen restraining a maddened Anthony while another lady officer handcuffed Margaret.

"You fucking faggot, don't touch my son. You bastard son of a bitch," he swore relentlessly.

Something snapped inside of me. It was the same feeling I had when I saw the assassin tried to take Marcus's life a long time ago.

"Anthony Bancroft," I began ominously," If you ever dare come near me or Andrew again, you will wish you were dead the day you were born."

I barged my way past our bodyguards and stalked towards a cowering Margaret, ignoring the stunned looks Marcus, Brady and several other people in the room were giving me.

"And you, there are simply no words I know of that can describe how filthy you are. You are not even worth to receive my spit," I spat on the floor to emphasize my point.

I carried Andrew to the ambulance without tossing a backward glance at the detestful couple that I had actually called family.

CHAPTER 7 (A MOTHER'S LOVE)

"Drew, are you sure you want to do this?" I questioned, looking concernedly at my baby brother. His face was swollen and the loose-fitting clothes that I had bought from Versace's latest collection did little to conceal the bandages that were still wrapped about him.

He nodded. Marcus was convening with the chief of police in the hotel's lobby.

"Let me get Brady," I opened the door and gestured for one of the guards. His name was Cray and I had just found out that he used to be a nurse before he switched jobs.

"Cray do you mind telling Brady I need a ride to this address?" I gave him the paper that Andrew had scribbled on.

"Yes, Mr. Bancroft," Cray had adamantly refused to call me on a first-name basis.

Within seconds the phone in the room rang. It was Marcus.

"There are some things I need to wrap up here so I won't accompany you. Brady has arranged for two guards to take you instead. Don't wander too far away from them," Marcus warned.

"I won't, Stoner," I assured him.

"Oh we are leaving for Hawaii as soon as Andrew gets whatever it is he needs. The house is vacant and I have just informed the chief that you maybe dropping by with Andrew in case your brother needs to pack some identifications. The officer on duty is already notified of your visit," he continued.

"Thanks, love," I smiled. Hawaii seemed like a good place for Andrew to recuperate.

"Take care," he disconnected the call.

Andrew stood like a ghost beside the window, looking out into nothing in particular. Perhaps there wasn't anything that could heal the pain in his soul.

"Ready to go?" I asked. He hobbled towards me.

"How serious are the charges?" Margaret asked Anthony anxiously. She was weary of staying alone in the small caged room.

"They are charging us with violence to a minor," Anthony replied as he sat down on the steel bed.

"What does that mean?" Margaret continued to ask.

"How the fuck should I know? I should have killed that damn faggot instead of adopting him," Anthony cursed.

"Oh my god, I'm going to jail..." Margaret sobbed," It's all your fault, I told you to stop but you didn't listen."

"Don't blame me darling," he sneered," You didn't try to stop me when I beat the crap out of him."

"We are going down together and I mean to bring that gay orphan and bastard son of yours with us," Anthony promised.

"Remember that little trinket I bought you the night before we were caught? I knew our house was swarmed with police. Did you actually think I was so stupid as to walk into an obvious trap empty-handed?" There was a feverish look in Anthony's eyes.

"Yes, it was just a normal brooch," Margaret said uncertainly.

"I used to tell you I would blow up the school laboratories just to avoid having to attend lessons. I wasn't joking," Anthony said and cackled insanely.

Margaret gasped in horror at the demented maniac she had married. All these years and she didn't know.

We drove by Andrew's school and he picked up a small package that he had stashed in the his locker. Inside was a cassette tape. Andrew had insisted I listened to it. I wasn't surprised at Andrew's true identity but I mentally recoiled from Anthony's wickedness after I heard the tape.

"Did you know?" Andrew asked.

"I suspected only, Drew. You weren't like him," I told him.

"I thought he wanted me to succeed to make up for his failure with you," Andrew said quietly.

"Not Anthony. I know now," I said.

"She didn't try to save me," Andrew uttered, his lips trembling.

"Who? Margaret?" I offered and he nodded.

I was about to say something when the car phone rang.

"Mr. Bancroft, there's a call for you. Seems to be from the police station," Cray said. He was among the two guards that were chosen to escort Andrew and I.

"Thanks Cray," I picked up the receiver," This is Jonathan."

"Before you hang up, listen to what I have to say," a woman's voice pleaded desperately.

"Who's this?" I said with a puzzled frown.

"Anthony has planted a bomb inside the house. It is inside a small trinket that I had left on the kitchen table. Please do not let Andrew get anywhere near that hideous thing," she said in a rush.

"Why should I trust you, Margaret?" I saw Andrew stiffened at the use of the woman's name.

"I beg of you. It's my last act as his mother," she said in a choked voice. I could tell she was crying. I figured it wouldn't hurt to have someone investigate her claim.

"I will," I hung up before she replied.

"What did she want?" Andrew said bitterly.

"She wanted me to save you," I replied.

"Cray, do you think you can get a couple of bomb experts to search through the Bancrofts' house? I have reason to believe there is a bomb hidden inside. It's disguised as a small box of some sort."

"Yes, Mr. Bancroft."

"I think we will have to pick up your identification certs later, Drew" I predicted.

Marcus took off his glasses as he saw Jonathan walked into the study. He had worn the contraption to reduce the stress to his eyes as he pored through the stacks of contracts and reports on the desk.

"Is he asleep?" Marcus inquired when Jonathan perched his hip on the side of the table.

Jonathan nodded. "Sound asleep. I wonder when was the last time he had a fitful rest. Even the few days he had spent in the hospital, he was murmuring in his sleep."

"An officer gave me this before we left Minnesota. I think it contains Andrew's certifications, results and some pictures," Jonathan picked up the sealed envelope.

"I have also sent our lawyers a duplicate copy of the tape so they can handle the rest from here."

"Will Andrew have to attend the hearing?"

"Probably but I will make sure his appearance is minimal. The court will understand that he needs to rest and recover from the ordeal."

"The police have confirmed the bomb is the work of an amateur. They are still trying to link it to Anthony. Judging by the progress they are making and with Margaret's help, they should be able to charge him."

Jonathan tipped his head in a slight nod.

"How are you taking all these, baby?" Marcus reached for Jonathan's hand.

"Confused. I guess no matter how cruel a man is, he doesn't kill one of his own. Do you suppose Margaret acted out of paternal instinct or the instinct to survive? She was aware she would get a shorter sentence by exposing Anthony," Jonathan entwined his fingers around Marcus's.

"Only Margaret can answer you, JB," Marcus replied.

"I suppose. I'm actually grateful this has happened. It had made me think about children, if I'm going to have any in future. I don't believe I could bear the thought of harming my own child to benefit myself."

"Thinking about children already? We are not even married," Marcus teased. A thought struck him then.

"Did I say I was going to marry you?" Jonathan said.

"You aren't?" Marcus pouted.

"Not for a million dollars," Jonathan chuckled and Marcus tickled him mercilessly.

"Stop, stop!" Jonathan giggled. "Okay, I'm sorry, spare me."

Marcus stopped and settled back into the chair. It took a few minutes for Jonathan to catch his breath.

"Do you think Anthony will get life time imprisonment? I hope he does." Jonathan said.

"That's for the court to decide. But I'm surprised you feel this way. It's not you," Marcus said, gazing with tenderness at Jonathan.

"I know. I was just venting and would probably hate myself if it really came true. But I loath the man and the sight of his face makes me sick. I thought I could forgive him for everything he had done but after what happened today with Andrew, I knew there was a limit to my tolerance."

"Actually I have been meaning to ask you, whatever prompted you to say those things that night?" Marcus asked curiously.

"Was I convincing? I had shook uncontrollably with anger after that mad outburst. I dunno. It was as if something inside me had suddenly broke free. I felt the same way that night you were attacked."

"I see. Well, you were more than convincing. You were death making a threat."

"I could never sound or look like death," Jonathan rolled his eyes at that exaggeration.

"Hmmm, maybe. But I would think twice about crossing you again," Marcus joked.

"You should, Stoner," Jonathan glared, feigning an indignant stare.

"Oh, Gabriel called earlier on. He will be in Hawaii with Jason and Eliot."

"Jason and Eliot? Don't they have to work?" Jonathan shot a puzzled look at Marcus.

"It's only going to be for a few days," Marcus answered.

"I guess this means you are staying as well?" Jonathan asked hopefully.

"Uhhuh, it all depends on how persuasive you are," Marcus leered.

"Oh, I can be very, very persuasive if I want to, Marcus Cornelia Stone," Jonathan said in a low, seductive voice that sent flames shooting in Marcus's groins.

"Do you prefer the comforts of a bed or a table?" Marcus gave Jonathan a lecherous look.

"Do I get to be bottom or top? I would like to know how it feels like to be rode like a stallion for a change," Jonathan asked.

"You can take any position that you like. I'm all yours," Marcus groaned as Jonathan licked a wet trail from his forehead all the way to the chest.

CHAPTER 8 (BIRTHDAY PRESENT)

Hawaii was an idyllic resort for the tired city-dweller who longed to be with nature. White sandy beaches and blue colored waters beckoned the adventurous to explore and there were plenty of water sports such as skiing, snorkeling where one could lose themselves in. The people were equally warm as was the weather and very hospitable. Dance and music was an intricate part of their lives.

"Darn, this feels good," Gabriel said as he relaxed on a chaise lounge, slowly sipping a glass of tropical punch.

Voluptuous women in scanty grass skirts sashayed on a platform not far away, dancing in rhythm to a jaunty tune. His son and son's friends were nowhere in sight, except for the kid that Jonathan had saved from Minnesota. Something was wrong with the boy, high school children did not sit listlessly by the sidelines and watch the fun. They plunged in with the reckless abandon of their youth.

"Hey kiddo, you want some of these?" Gabriel offered his punch.

Andrew shook his head.

"I don't know what's wrong with you because your brother is very tight-lipped where you are concerned and so is that besotted son of mine," Gabriel grumbled," Someday they are both going to be the death of me. Anyway as I was saying, I don't give a damn what happened to you in Minnesota. Look around you, this is not Minnesota. You have just been given a chance to try at living again, grab it!"

Andrew just sat there quietly, pulling at the stray bits of bandage near his palm. The bandages around the rest of his body were removed yesterday.

"Look at me, I maybe old but I know how to live. Ah shucks, never mind. I think you need a goddamn shrink," Gabriel stood up," While I shall go and enjoy myself."

Gabriel was getting ready to leave when Andrew tugged at his shorts.

"What?" Gabriel asked.

"Can I have a little of that punch?" Andrew said.

"Sure," Gabriel picked up the glass and thrusted it towards Andrew. He felt an inexplicable closeness to the kid then as he remembered Marcus doing something similar many years ago. It didn't occur to him that this feeling stemmed from his need to make up to Marcus, for neglecting him over the years.

"Are you sure its alright to leave Andrew in Gabriel's care?" Marcus nagged.

"Yes, darling. I have already answered your question for the twentieth time today. Have some faith in your own father," I reprimanded him.

"It's because he is my father which worries me. I think he will suggest beer or cocaine as an alternative to Andrew's problems."

"Why are you so concerned about Andrew? Weren't you the one who believed he had a motive for getting close to me?" I smiled at him.

"I was wrong about the boy. I think I'm starting to like him, he reminds me of you," Marcus admitted.

"I hope you don't fall for him," I teased.

"I don't go for jock meat. Besides I already have the love of my life," he said it nonchalantly.

"Next time when you profess your undying love for me, try to be serious," I chided and pinched him on the nose. He grinned.

We were walking barefoot along the beaches, my hands clasped in his, entertaining ourselves with the rushing sounds of the waves as they lapped against the shore. Nobody took much heed of us since not many locals recognized us. Brady and his team were given a few days off because they had surveyed the area and found it to be safe. Jason and Eliot had decided to test out the water-skiing facility.

"Do you think it's safe to let Jason and Eliot pair up on that water-ski?" I asked.

"It's probably the best arrangement," Marcus replied.

"But they quarrel over the smallest thing, I mean water-skiing requires cooperation from both parties else it could be very dangerous."

"Don't fret, I don't think Jason would want Eliot hurt."

"Why do you keep saying that or something similar to that?" I demanded as a distant memory surfaced.

"Nothing really, just instinct about the two of them," Marcus said.

"Don't patronize me," I muttered," Tell me please, I'm itching to know."

"Well, for starters, have you noticed how each of them always tries to pick up a fight whenever the other party is around? But they always make up. And did Eliot ever grumbled about Jason to you, especially bad things about Jason? I would say no, because Jason was forever praising Eliot infront of me."

I nodded. "Examined from that perspective, it does look odd."

"And the funniest thing I notice about them is Jason seems to know exactly what Eliot likes and dislikes. Did you see how attentive Jason was during breakfast this morning? I wouldn't have remembered that someone preferred two cubes of sugar in his coffee if he or she wasn't special to me."

"Like you know I like tea with milk and no sugar while I know you prefer plain black coffee." I affirmed.

"Exactly."

"Stoner, are you trying to tell me they are in love with each other but they are not aware of it?"

"Something like that. My gaydar is beeping out loud."

"Do you think," I hesitated," we should confront them?"

"Maybe not. But then I have no experience in coming out on my own terms since I was forced into admitting my sexuality so I wouldn't know how long it would take. It could be disastrous if they got married and didn't realize they were gay."

"Or we could be wrong. Gaydar isn't exactly always accurate."

"I will overlook that insult," Marcus smiled. I didn't return his smile because I was busy thinking how to tackle the problem.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Marcus intruded.

"Oh just weighing the pros and cons about wringing a confession out of Jason and Eliot," I joked.

"Well you have something more important to think about, for instance, what you should be wearing for your birthday party tomorrow night," Marcus said.

"I thought you had forgotten about it," I rested my head on his broad shoulders.

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed.

The party was a simple fare of pineapple rice, sauteed chicken, fruit punch, assorted vegetables and fruits. There was also my favorite low-fat ice cream. Marcus had booked the entire restaurant and the only guests were Jason, Eliot, Andrew and Gabriel. He had hired an accomplished duet consisting of a violinist and a pianist from London to perform selected classical pieces such as Beethoven's famous Sonatas. We were dressed in a Hawaiian-style of brightly colored floral shirt, short pants with bouquets of bougainvillea around our necks. Andrew was slightly more talkative than usual and I was glad that his time with Gabriel had helped.

We were nearing the end of the celebrations, partaking the cake when Marcus produced a bouquet of red roses from behind his back.

"It's a little late for roses, Stoner," I said sheepishly as I accepted the bouquet.

"Not for what I intend to do," he promised. He fumbled for something in his pants and fished out two velvet trinkets.

"I bought these specially from Tiffany's. There are only two of the same kind available. One is for me while the other is for you," He lifted the casing and removed a slender silver ring, studded with sparkling diamonds. The diamonds were arranged to form the letters TO MY HUSBAND, STONER.

I stared at Marcus, uncertain what to do or what to say. This was unprecedented.

"With this ring, I wed thee, Jonathan Anderson Bancroft. In sickness and in health, in poverty and in riches. Heaven and earth be my witnesses," Marcus took the initiative and slipped the ring in his hand onto my finger, altering the time immemorial vows slightly to adapt to our needs. The words TO MY HUSBAND, JB were clearly visible on the ring.

"With..with..," I began and stopped, breathless with excitement. Jason and Eliot were holding their hands while Gabriel draped a loose arm over Andrew's shoulder. They were waiting for my decision.

"I paid more than a million for each ring, in case you are recalling your joke about not marrying me even if I gave you a million dollars," he teased, erroneously thinking that I was reluctant. The truth was I was moved beyond words.

I took a deep breath and said, "With this ring, I wed thee, Marcus Cornelia Stone. In sickness and in health, in poverty and in riches. Heaven and earth be my witnesses." I slipped the ring onto his finger.

There was a series of loud clapping and I didn't realize the duet that was playing on the stage had long left the restaurant. Marcus and I kissed amidst the congratulations and support of our family. It was one of the most profound moment in my life.

Later on, as we held each other inside the confines of our suite, I finally realized the significance of what I had done and cried with elation.

"What's the matter, darling?" Marcus said.

"Too happy," I confessed.

Marcus laughed. "You are the most unfathomable creature in the world. One minute you can tear at a touching speech and the next you can cry just because you are moved. And before I know it, you can muster the courage to run down anyone who dares to threaten the lives of your loved ones."

"But I am the man you married," I reminded him.

"Indeed you are and I am your husband from today onwards," my heart lurched at the use of the intimate term. My husband.

"I pledge my life to you for eternity," he declared solemnly.

"I pledge mine to you as well forever," I said.

"I know you already did when you tried to save me that night," Marcus whispered.

"I think I shouldn't have taken that pledge," I announced after we stripped ourselves naked and laid on the bed.

"What do you mean by that?" Marcus reached into the covers and held my cock.

"I mean ever since our lives converged again, everything's been a wild ride. The murders. Patricia's scheming. Betty's brother. Andrew. I had wanted a quiet life where I can paint in peace, count the stars at night and dabble in all sorts of art form," I answered.

"And I haven't been able to provide you with that," Marcus muttered. His hand had stopped stroking my dick. I knew he was upset.

"And I would have happily given up all that to be with you," I told him and reached for him.

"Truly?" he smiled.

"With all my heart," I proclaimed seriously. "Of course, next time when you decide to lecture me on something regardless of whether I was wrong or not, be kind and understand that I am still trying to fit into this cosmic chaos we have created."

He heaved with laughter. "I can't believe you are still smarting from all those things I have said when I was angry with you."

"You don't mince your words when you are convinced that you are right," I reminded him and closed my eyes to breathe in his scent.

"Okay no promises but I will try. In that case, I guess I should let you know, no matter what I do or say to you in the future, it is always done to safeguard your interests," he said and resumed stroking my manhood.

"So who shall be the rider and who shall be the stallion tonight?" Marcus teased.

"Your wish is my command, my husband," I batted my eyes at him in mock obedience. He roared with laughter.

CHAPTER 9 (COMING OUT I)

Jason splashed generous amounts of water running from the tap onto his face, trying to clear his mind. What was he thinking? Why was he so aroused by Eliot's sleeping form? He glanced at himself through the mirror. He wasn't ugly but neither was he exceptionally good-looking. He was starting to bald a little in the middle but he had inhibited the hair from falling too rapidly with the use of lotions. It wasn't obvious since he liked to keep his blond hair short but Eliot had noticed and commented on it. After that he had been obsessed with his hairstyle. Why did Eliot's opinions matter so much to him? His eyelashes were beautifully thin and long, spreading like an elegant fan over his blue eyes. His face was a perfect oval, with a sculpted nose, a cleanly shaven, jutting chin and a pair of ears that tapered back. The only incongruent feature was his bushy eyebrows but he had kept it since Eliot said it enhanced his masculinity. Why did it always come back to Eliot?

He turned off the tap, dried himself with a towel and entered the room. The lights were dimmed and he could hear Eliot's even breathing in the darkness. He laid down beside the fully-clothed man and appraised him. Jason didn't dare to undress him, less he couldn't control himself and committed something he was going to regret in the morning. Tentatively, he rest his head on top of Eliot's. They were roughly the same in height, he knew. His mouth of its own volition, gradually sought Eliot's and before he could back out in time, he kissed Eliot. Eliot moaned and responded. Jason embraced Eliot and they stayed there locked together in each other's arms. Somewhere in the tumults of his mind, Jason knew this was wrong. He was not gay. But he didn't care because the sensations that he was feeling now were too incredible to give up.

Eliot awoke with a start at the unfamiliar taste of tongue in his mouth. He groggily sat up, mistaking the person in his bed to be a woman he had picked up belatedly realizing he hadn't gone cruising last night. He turned and tried to focus. A man? How odd? Then it hit him like a sudden boom of thunder. It was Jason! They had kissed and fallen asleep in each other's arms! Eliot scrambled out of the room, not caring that he looked like a mess. He had only one destination in mind.

I stretched and rubbed my eyes, mentally cursing whoever it was pounding on my door. Last night, my husband had played with my body like a skilled fiddler and there was a soreness in my thighs as I walked rigidly towards the door, lethargically wrapping my naked body with a bed cover. My heart still fluttered whenever I thought of Marcus as my husband. I was still smiling at that image when I saw Eliot's pale face.

"Bro, is something wrong?" I inquired, letting him into the suite. He was shaking, I realized and he hadn't changed out of the clothes he had worn last night. I led him to the pantry, not wanting to disturb Marcus who was still sleeping. Fortunately, there was a pot of hot water and I fixed Eliot a cup of coffee.

"Here take this, a dose of caffeine helps," I said, handing him the cup.

He took a sip and tried to get a grip of himself but failed. He was trembling even more vigorously.

"Eliot what's going on?" I reiterated, as I soothingly rubbed his back.

Just then there was another loud knock on the door. I answered it and admitted a disheveled Jason into the room.

"Is Marcus awake?" he asked, forgetting to greet me in his hurry.

"No, but Eliot's here if you need someone to talk to," I provided, leading him to a rotating seat beside Eliot. Eliot looked like he was about to balk out of the room.

"Coffee?" I asked. Both of them just sat there, staring at their hands.

"Please don't tell me that I was rudely awakened by my brother and my good friend on the first day after my wedding just to sit here and talk to myself," I tried to make fun of the situation, hoping to break the ice. It backfired and suddenly the room temperature went down several notches. I was thinking it may just snow.

After several minutes, Eliot said quietly," I think I should be going."

Out of the blue, Jason banged on the table and yelled at Eliot," Okay we kissed, what is so fucking wrong with it?!"

I stood there speechless. Eliot repeated his words, " I think I should be going."

"Oh no, you don't. Eliot Troy, we are going to thrash things out right now," Jason bit out angrily, grabbing Eliot by the shoulders. Eliot resisted and before I could put a stop to it, Eliot's palm connected with Jason's cheeks.

"Let go of me!" Eliot cried.

The altercation had alerted Marcus as he sat up on the bed and said grouchily, "What the hell's going on?"

Jason dumped Eliot back in the chair and sat back down.

"Bro, what did Jason mean by 'we kissed'?" I said, after both of their tempers had simmered to a low boil. Marcus had brushed, shaved and was sipping on his coffee in a quiet corner.

"I...I don't remember," Eliot stammered," Last night, when Marc had proposed to you and you had accepted, I...I... was giddy with happiness for the both of you and so had too much to drink. Jason had helped me back to my room and this...this...morning, when I woke up, I found us locked in a wet...ki..ss."

"It was just a kiss, okay we hugged. What is such a big deal about it?" Jason interrupted.

"You don't go around kissing and hugging a male friend unless you have some fantasies about him," I explained.

"I'm not gay if that's what you are saying, Jonathan," Jason said coldly.

"Do you truly think so?" Marcus questioned.

"Fuck you. Even though both of you are happily married, there is no bloody reason to think the rest of the world is gay!" Jason swore. It was the first time I had heard him cursed this vehemently since high school.

"If you aren't gay, why are you trying so hard to deny it?" Marcus argued.

"I...I..no.., you are fucking wrong Marc," Jason yelled.

"Did you enjoy the kiss, Jason?" Marcus persisted.

Then Eliot burst into tears.

"Are you all right, bro?" I comforted him.

"No, I'm not. I loved kissing you, Jason. I loved the feel of your tongue inside me. I loved quarrelling with you, having meals with you..." Eliot rambled on.

"So it's all your fault, you...you..." Jason shot Eliot an icy glare before striding out of the suite in a huff.

I held Eliot in my arms as he cried his heart out.

"What a fucking mess," Marcus said and I couldn't agree with him more.

Eliot and Jason's problem hung over the horizon like a thunderstorm, threatening to crackle and burst into horrendous showers. Marcus had prevailed on the court regarding Andrew's plea to be absent from the trial. Anthony was sentenced to twenty years in jail while Margaret received a lighter punishment of five years, for her cooperation with the police in locating the bomb. I had decided to keep the proceedings of the trial from Andrew but Marcus thought otherwise. So did Gabriel, who had grown more concerned about Andrew since we came back from Hawaii. Both Eliot and Jason had left immediately after their heated argument, the day after Marcus and I got married.

Marcus intended to make our marriage official but I had coerced him into delaying it, as it wasn't a good idea then to give the media a delicious piece of news such as a fairytale marriage between the most eligible bachelor in the world with his gay partner to chew on. We were swamped with things to take care of as it was. There was Andrew's resettlement, Eliot's refusal to take any of my calls and Jason's indifference. He only dropped by to inform Marcus of the latest development in his company, Smith Technologies. Marcus was the sole investor after Jason rejected Eliot's offer to inject funds. Beyond that Jason was like a remote stranger.

The press had conjured tasty morsels of information over the collective show of extravagance my husband and my friends had displayed during the charity show. Connoisseurs of the trade were actively buying paintings signed by Jon B. I was musing over what the curator of the gallery near my old apartment would say when I heard the crunching noise of tyres on gravel outside. Who could it be? Marcus was away in Rome to negotiate a deal on building wafer fabrication factories. Gabriel and Andrew had tagged along. I didn't feel up to travelling and had stayed behind in New York.

Just then, Jason walked into the observatory, preceded by Philip, our butler. The observatory was a small extended in-house garden at the western wing of the mansion. A semi-ovular shelter made of glass panels sheltered it from the elements.

"Mr. Smith is here to see you," Philip intoned formally.

"Thank you, Philip. That would be all," I said, politely dismissing the butler.

"Would you like a drink, Jason?" I asked, gesturing to the jug of lemonade on the ornate garden table.

"That won't be necessary. I just came to give you the invitation to my wedding."

"What wedding? To whom?" I said, shocked by the abruptness of his decision.

"Everything's inside the invitation card," he threw a pink-colored card, elaborately decorated with silver and gold paper carvings, onto the table.

I snatched the card and read the contents. I was only searching for two names and found them printed between two swans. Jason Smith and Samantha Fielding.

"Are you serious? Samantha? Who's Samantha?"

"Samantha, human resource manager of the Strategic Division," he provided numbly.

I tried to concentrate but could only fetch a vague image of the woman's face in my mind.

"When did this happen? Have you told Eliot? " I asked.

"Screw you Jonathan. Just inform Marcus and keep that...that conniving bastard brother of yours out of it."

"Jason Halliwell Smith, you will not use such derogatory terms to describe Eliot," I scolded, angered at his groundless accusations.

"Oh just go on, enjoy your happy gay lives and keep the hell out of my business," he flung the words out furiously and strode out of the place.

I heard the car sped off before I realized I hadn't congratulate him on the good news. But was there cause to be happy?

CHAPTER 10 (COMING OUT II)

I tried to call Eliot several times over the next few days. Jason's wedding was in a week's time and I wasn't about to let him make a rash decision. Eliot had to confront Jason before the wedding. Marcus was due to fly back tomorrow from Rome, a day before the actual ceremony. He had warned me to not interfere. I ignored his advice.

"You will tell me where Mr. Troy has gone to," I demanded, raising my voice at the poor secretary who took the call. Marcus was right, I did bully others just to protect the people I cared about.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Troy has specific instructions to..." she began, droning on in that lifeless voice of hers, hoping that I would buy her story.

"Look here, lady. Either you tell me where Mr. Troy is or I will storm into the office and make a scene," I lied.

"I already said..." she insisted.

"Or the alternative is when I do find Mr. Troy on my own, I can suggest that he sack a certain unhelpful secretary," I threatened. "I'm sure you are aware of how close I am to Mr. Troy."

"I....I...." she said. Finally, she relented and told me Eliot had gone to visit Mr. Kensington.

"James Kensington?" I asked, making sure.

"Yes, Mr. Bancroft, could you please put in a few good words for me?" the secretary begged.

"Look, Diane isn't it? Don't worry, I didn't mean what I said. You are a great secretary and it is Eliot's loss if he fired you," I assured her and hung up.

What was Eliot doing with James Kensington at an old folks home?

"JB, don't meddle into others affairs," Marcus said into the cell phone, tempering his voice when he recalled his promise to be less harsh with his husband even though he maybe doing something he felt was wrong.

"They are family, Stoner. Anyway I'm just making a trip to an old folk's home. Nothing drastic," Jonathan replied.

Marcus shook his head in resignation. JB wasn't going to be persuaded once he conceived of a way he thought would make everyone happy. Not his outwardly weak and passive JB who displayed a ruthless determination to want the best for all his loved ones. Marcus knew Jonathan was heading for trouble by confronting Eliot. It was he thought, the most endearing and frustrating quality of his husband. Marcus also knew it was also the reason why he loved Jonathan even more with each day. He had believed that there was an upper ceiling to how much he could love someone but the emptiness in his heart had grown instead of diminishing the longer he spent with JB. Jonathan had touched him with his zest for life and immense capacity to love others.

"Okay but make sure you bring a bodyguard along," Marcus said.

"Will do, bye. Love you," Jonathan blew him a kiss and disconnected the call.

Marcus was already busy making backup plans in case Jonathan's endeavor blew up in their faces.

"Young man, why did you take so long to visit me?" James Kensington grumbled as he pushed the wheelchair towards Eliot.

"I have been busy with work, James," Eliot smiled. Strange that he actually liked the old man when he was senile. He had found James Kensington to be more approachable and amiable.

"Did you bring my vodka?" James asked, his face brimming with excitement as his aged eyes darted about sneakily, afraid that someone had overhead him.

"No, the doctors said you shouldn't be drinking," Eliot chided.

"Them shrinks are a bunch of pussies, a little drink ain't gonna hurt," James whined.

"Now don't start with me about the doctors," Eliot smiled.

"Fine," James pouted.

Just then a nurse, a lady in her middle forties, picked her way through the group of old people.

"Sorry Mr. Troy, Mr. Kensington has an appointment with the doctors," she apologized.

"No, I don't want to see any shrink today. I only want Eliot," James wailed like a baby.

"Now, James. Be a good boy. I will bring you a bottle of vodka next time," Eliot wondered if there was going to be a next time. He had carefully avoided visiting James Kensington for fear that Marcus would find out and harm the poor old man. Marcus was less vengeful now that Jonathan's back but Eliot could still detect a palpable merciless streak in him. Suddenly Jason's image popped into his mind and Eliot hastily fought back the rush of tears that handsome face brought.

"Eliot Troy, when are you going to return my calls?" a soft voice said.

"Jon?" Eliot spun around to face the man he had acknowledged as his brother.

"Nice of you to remember my name," Jonathan joked.

"How did you know I was here?" Eliot asked with animosity.

"Your secretary told me. Before you say something moronic as to ask me to leave, I came to tell you Jason is getting married to Samantha Fielding," Jonathan announced.

Eliot staggered and would have fallen had Jonathan not caught him in time.

"How about tulips for the bouquet?" Samantha suggested enthusiastically, as she glanced through the catalogue.

"Anything," Jason replied dispassionately.

"How many tiers for the cake? Three? Or four?"

"Up to you, I'm not an expert in wedding preparations," Jason said.

"I'm thinking of four bridesmaid, is that okay with you?"

"Fine with me. Look, I need to go through some reports. If you need any advice, I'm sure Veronica would be glad to offer her assistance," Jason offered politely.

Jason didn't care how the wedding went. He just wanted to show Eliot and his happy little gay family that he was straight. That deceitful scum had seduced him and made him confused about his sexuality. How dare Marcus implied that he was gay?! Jonathan was no help, he was on Eliot's side. Everyone he trusted was against him. Yet he was worried about Eliot because he hadn't seen him in days. Did Eliot eat well? Did he sleep well? Jason mentally scolded himself. Why bother?

"Sam?" Veronica inquired.

"Hey Veron, do you mind being my bridesmaid? I'm getting married to Jason the day after tomorrow," Samantha requested.

"Sure, I would be happy to be your bridesmaid. Are you sure about this? Marriage is a huge commitment. I know Jason's a trustworthy man but isn't all this too sudden?" Veronica said.

"Veron why can't you be happy for me just this once? I have finally found a man who appreciates me for who I am," Samantha scolded.

"Okay, okay. Congratulations. Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow then regarding the dress code and stuff?" Veronica conceded, she could feel a hint of bitterness in Samantha's voice she had never felt before.

"C'ya," Samantha hung up.

"Was that Samantha? She's marrying Jason?" Patrick asked.

"Yeah, the day after tomorrow."

"Did she say why?" Patrick questioned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Nope," Veronica answered. She could see that Patrick was unsettled by the news. It was a natural reaction but Patrick's reaction was more acute than hers.

Patrick mumbled something inaudible.

I looked at the man at the table, dressed in an expensive tailored suit of vanilla white, twirling a glass of whisky in his hands. There was something desolate and pitiful about him but I couldn't quite put my finger on what. Perhaps it was the way his eyes were drawn in, or the imperceptible shiver of his fingers or even the contorted expression on his face. It took all of my imagination to associate this man with the dynamic brother I knew.

"Eliot?" I prodded. He had been sitting there like a hurt animal over the past hour or so.

"Did..did he say when?" Eliot replied.

"Fifteenth of this month, which means the day after tomorrow."

He gripped the stem of the glass with such violence I thought it would break into two. There were a million things I wanted to ask him but I was afraid he would shatter if I exerted even the merest pressure. In his current state, Eliot reminded me of a newly baked clay vase. Fragile and vulnerable.

"God...why? Why?" he sobbed suddenly. Fortunately I had chosen a quiet corner in the cafeteria else we would have caused heads to turn.

I held his hands and said, "Look bro, there is still time. If you tell him how you feel..."

He glared at me and gritted, "And what? Have him throw it in my face? You saw what he did when I opened my heart to him. He got himself married. That moron found himself a girl."

"Perhaps he can't handle the fact that he was gay or even bisexual. The fact is I think both of you are in love and people in love do silly things to hurt each other," I counseled.

"That's what you think! Do you think it's easy for me to find out that I am gay after all these years of deceiving myself, of willingly letting myself be dominated by women? I almost married Patricia without knowing the real me," he raved like a lunatic.

"The real me? How dramatic! Twin personalities, me Eliot Troy! I think I should thank you for unraveling the web of lies I have spun around myself. But I hate you. I wish you would burn in hell with all your homosexual theories!" he snatched his hands away as if I have grown thorns.

I looked at him, assailed by waves of sadness and hurt. I thought I was helping him when I analyzed his feelings that morning in Hawaii, after Jason left and we were alone in the suite. Marcus had made up an excuse about wanting to take a dip in the sea.

Eliot hadn't realize that deep down he had always known that he got involved with abusive women until that day. Subconsciously, he harbored the secret dream that a strong, dependable man would descend from the heavens like an angel and rescue him. Had he really wanted to succumb to a woman's will, he would not have the clarity of mind or courage to want to save Marcus and me. But when he was once again forced into a similar situation after Robert Troy named him the president of Troy Associates, Jason had shown up. Eliot had no experience managing a large corporation, let alone facing businessmen who were like vultures ready to prey on him once they spot a weakness in his armor. Jason had taught him how to protect himself and in doing so, gained entry into the sacred grounds of Eliot's heart. When Marcus and I got married, Eliot was shocked to realize that he had wished Jason and he was a couple too. He was petrified and had tried to drink himself senseless. After that, it was as if fate decided to make fun of his predicament and got Jason to kiss him in his bed.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know, honest," I apologized profusely. What more could I say? I was the one responsible for introducing Jason to him.

"Don't expect me to forgive you. I won't give you the satisfaction of out of here without feeling the pain you have caused me," he said, dripping with venom. It was blood curdling that a man like Eliot could be capable of such deep hatred.

"Eliot I didn't mean to," I argued, hoping to reason with him.

"Jason thinks he has won, did he? Well, we'll see," Eliot said, his eyes narrowing into slits like a cobra preparing to strike.

At that moment, I regretted not heeding Marcus's advice.

CHAPTER 11 (AND THEY ALL FALL DOWN)

"Hey baby," Marcus greeted. I wanted to cry at his voice.

"Stoner, they hate me. Eliot hates me. Jason despises me," I told him tearfully.

"What have I done? Oh what have I done?" I kept repeating myself.

"Hush, darling. It's not your fault. They are just angry, lashing out their pain at others," he consoled. Even though he was thousands of miles away, it still felt good to hear his comforting words.

"Do you think so? I tried, love. I really did. I didn't think I would hurt Eliot. Oh, I'm such a fool not to listen to you," I said into the phone.

"Calm down and tell me what happened." I did as he said.

After a long while, he asked, "Do you still want to help them?"

"Yes, I would do anything to help them, anything! But I'm at my wits' end." I said desperately.

"I have a plan and it may just work but you would have to patient and wait for me when I get back from Rome. Here's what I intend to do..."

I listened carefully as my husband dictated the instructions.

Patrick stared at the letter on his table, his hands trembling. There was no signature on the printed paper but the contents were sufficient to make him shiver. What did she meant when she said she would sacrifice herself to protect his name? He thought about her constantly even though he had initiated the break-up. She was a lovely flower in bloom and he was just a grizzled bee, drinking the nectar of her youth. She should not be stuck with an old man like him. But in the letter she had said she loved him and questioned his love for her. She had hinted at a chance at reconciliation, did he dare to do as she suggested?

Jason blindly shook hands with the guests, acknowledging them with a cursory nod of his head. His mind was on the contracts that arrived earlier on. Despite it being his wedding day, he was not in the mood to celebrate. There was still plenty of work to do. Samantha was stunning in an ivory gown embroidered with pearls and diamonds but so were some of the models he had dated before. Then he saw Eliot. The bastard was in a sharp black tuxedo and there were two lovely women clinging onto him as he walked through the doors of the church. Jason recognized their faces from some magazine, they were celebrities or models of some sort. But the ladies were inconsequential, it was the look of disdain that Eliot gave him as he approached that annoyed Jason.

"Congratulations, Mr. Smith," Eliot said silkily, untangling one arm to shake Jason's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Troy. I see you have found yourself some interesting company. I trust you are enjoying yourself?" Jason replied, his voice sweeter than honey.

"Of course, what else did you think I would be doing? Cry my heart out? I should be rejoicing that my good friend is getting married, shouldn't I?" Eliot said in an off-handed manner.

"I was thinking you should have brought along a different company, since you are, oh how should I phrase it? Queer?" Jason said with a satisfied smile.

Eliot chuckled and explained to the ladies, "My friend, Mr. Smith has a weird sense of humor. I hope he hasn't offended both of you. Oh Jason, did I mention this to you before? I just proposed to Michelle here. We are getting married next month."

Jason's eyes widened with surprise. Eliot did not wait for his reply and strolled along to mingle with the crowd.

"What exactly did Eliot say to Jason?" I asked worriedly.

"Apparently something scathing or shocking, judging from Jason's furious expression," Marcus said dryly.

"What's with the women? Is Eliot trying to prove a point?"

"I think he is."

"I could murder the two of them for being so immature."

"I have a feeling they are thinking of doing the same thing to us," Marcus commented wryly.

"Do you think Patrick got the letter?" I asked.

"I wouldn't know. Let's pray he did."

"Did Jason invite every newspaper, station and magazine to the wedding?" I glanced at the numerous reporters scattered around the place. Fortunately, none of them pestered Marcus and I. But Brady and four other guards had already formed a circle around us as a precaution.

"Looks so to me," Marcus concurred.

"I hope this works," I said honestly.

"So do I, darling. So do I," Marcus affirmed.

"Should there be anyone who objects to this holy union, speak up or forever hold your peace," the priest intoned.

"I do," Patrick stood up and stomped menacingly down the aisle.

"Sam, I love you. You can't marry Jason. I'm sorry for hurting you but I thought you would be better off with someone younger. Please forgive me for not appreciating you for who you are," Patrick professed as he grabbed Samantha's hand and pulled her away.

Samantha gave a cry of joy and threw herself into Patrick's arms.

The place was instantly in an uproar, cameras flashing, reporters thrusting microphones while Jason fended them off. Patrick and Samantha had taken advantage of the chaos and escaped.

"It worked! Stoner, it worked!" I exclaimed.

"I know darling, but we only prevented the wedding. There's still Jason and Eliot to take care of," Marcus reminded me.

"Do you have a plan to fix them up?" I begged with hopeful eyes.

Marcus shook his head. "Actually we have caused enough trouble already."

I felt a gust of wind driving away the clouds of happiness.

I saw Eliot advancing on a harassed Jason, surrounded by reporters and didn't think twice about it. It was to be my mistake.

Jason was ready to do bodily harm to anyone who dared to provoke him. Why did Samantha run away with Patrick? And what was with that profession of love? He backhanded a stray microphone and barged his way out of the irritating mob that was hurling hundreds of questions at him. Didn't these people comprehend the meaning of the words 'No Comments'? In his haste, he collided into someone. It was Eliot.

"Now who is gay? Your fiancee just left you on the altar," Eliot jeered.

Jason punched Eliot in the face.

"Jason, Eliot stop it!" I screeched.

"Disperse the crowd and make sure nobody takes anymore pictures," Marcus ordered, "JB help me separate them."

Marcus and I joined in the melee and after suffering a punch in the right eye, I managed to pull Eliot free. Marcus was holding onto a deranged Jason.

"Clear the way," Marcus shouted above the din. The reporters had refused to budge, insisting for an explanation for what had happened. Luckily, they had stopped taking photos.

"Eliot snap out of it!" I shook him. He was struggling violently while I tried to hold him captive with my arms.

When we finally got into the limousine, I was exhausted. Eliot was restrained by Cray who had taken the same ride as me while Marcus and Jason were in another car. I was too weary to attempt to start a conversation even though I knew it wouldn't be of much use. Eliot was yelling and screaming like a caged animal. I didn't think he was capable of such barbaric fury. He had always looked so civilized and cultured to me. So did Jason.

We were shown into a presidential suite of some posh hotel. I wasn't in the frame of mind to take note of the name of the place. Brady was among the guards posted outside the door and Marcus was already lounging in a sofa when I entered.

"Jason's inside the master bedroom," Marcus provided when I shot him a questioning look.

"Cray, leave Mr. Troy inside the same room as Mr. Smith and lock the door," I instructed. Eliot stopped ranting and glared at me. I ignored him.

Moments after the bedroom door slammed shut, I could hear the sound of breaking glass, obscene swearing, yelling and the thudding noise of furniture being upturned coming from within.

"JB, are you sure you want to do this?" Marcus demanded. He was bristling with displeasure. I knew he didn't approve of what I just did.

"Yes," I confirmed, fed up of their childish behavior. " If they love hurting each other so much, they can jolly well kill themselves in there."

Marcus sighed. "How's the eye?"

"Stings like hell," I grouched, nursing the ache around my right eye.

The fighting inside the room wasn't showing signs of breaking. Instead it appeared to get even more fierce.

"Cray you are a qualified nurse, right?" I asked. Cray nodded.

"Good, cos we may need your first aid knowledge in awhile," I said.

There was a shrill cry of terror. Marcus and I ran for the master bedroom, got Cray to unlock it and peered in. Jason was clutching Eliot in his arms and hastily drying the blood flowing from his forehead with his shirt.

"Shit! Marc, get me some bandages, wads of cotton, clean water and antiseptic lotions," Jason shouted. "Jon, I need a pillow. Hurry."

CHAPTER 12 (ACCEPTANCE)

Jason tenderly touched the piece of cotton strapped across Eliot's forehead, as his lover laid on the bed. The cut was quite deep and would leave an indelible scar but it wasn't life threatening. Jason was grateful to the bodyguard whose name he had found out was Cray for his timely assistance. Jonathan had called for a doctor immediately. There were bruises around Eliot's ribs, shoulders and cheeks. Jason knew all of them were inflicted by him. But he wasn't spared either. Eliot had thrown an uppercut at him that left his jaw aching.

"Hey," Jason croaked as he saw Eliot's eyes fluttering open. Marcus, Jonathan and their bodyguards had helped to clear up the mess in the master bedroom. It wasn't necessary to send Eliot to the hospital.

"Where...what?" Eliot tried to focus.

"We are in a hotel suite and you were grazed by a broken leg from a table that I swung at you," Jason explained.

"You!" Eliot tried to sit up but yelped in pain.

"Easy love," Jason cooed and gently pressed Eliot back onto the bed," You should be resting."

"Why...why are you being so nice, you...you monster?" Eliot gritted.

"Because I'm afraid I would lose you," Jason declared solemnly.

"Whaa..t?" Eliot said, stunned.

"I love you, Eliot. I don't want to lose you," Jason said, stroking Eliot's cheek.

"Are you accepting your sexuality?" Eliot wasn't convinced. "You bastard, if you are patronizing me, I swear I will hire a hit-man and kill you."

"Tsk, tsk, such violence is unbecoming of you," Jason teased.

Eliot frowned. "Okay, I was lying but you haven't answered my question."

"Yes, I am gay. I'm sorry I took so long to accept it and in the process I have hurt you and almost destroyed any chance we could have of being together," Jason proclaimed.

Eliot smiled. "Am I dreaming?" he said.

"No, you are not. Now sleep, my handsome lover," Jason said.

The words had came unbidden and Jason was surprised he felt so comfortable with them. He had been frightened that he would lose himself if he admitted to being gay but he had assumed his new identity easily like it was meant to be. He didn't feel queasy when he told Eliot he loved him nor did he flinched when he voiced the words 'gay' out loud. Jason had always thought the sweet talking between Marcus and Jonathan was mushy but he didn't feel that way anymore.

"Ouch," I groaned as Marcus carefully rotated the compress against the bruise around my eye. The compress consisted of a boiled egg covered in a damp cloth.

"Bear with it love, it will pass," Marcus said, shifting to a squatting position beside the sofa.

"I think I should wear a full-plate armor or something, next time I help you to break up a fight," I grumbled as another stab of pain streaked through the right half of my face.

"Enrolling you in a karate or judo class would be a better idea," Marcus lessened the pressure he was applying.

"Probably," I agreed.

"Those two could have killed themselves in there," Marcus commented.

"I didn't think they would," I argued.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "They wouldn't but accidents do happen," he said.

"You promised to be patient when I make any mistakes, husband dear," I said, fighting back another bout of pain.

"I know but you could have killed two good friend of ours," he increased the pressure on the compress just to torture me.

"Sorry," I said simply. He sighed and smiled at me.

"What do you think they are doing inside the room?" I asked when Marcus removed the compress.

"Making up, most probably," he replied.

"Let's hope they learn to take care of each other," I said.

"For someone who is constantly getting into trouble and waiting for me to fix up the mess, you sound like an expert," Marcus teased.

"Drop it, will you," I pulled at his earlobes like he was a naughty boy going around telling other's my dirty secrets.

"Well, I was going to say I agree with you about them learning to look after each other," he grinned.

"Why?" I asked belatedly realizing how inane that sounded. Jason and Eliot had only overcame the first hurdle. There was Eliot's father and the media to worry about.

"How do you suppose we can help them?" I was already thinking of the various possibilities that could obstruct the two lovebirds from being together.

"Don't jump the gun, JB. First we take care of our sleeping arrangements for the night," Marcus said.

End of Part II

To be continued......