Fist to the Heart

Fist to the Heart Chapter 17

Fist To The Heart – Ch. 17

By Laura S. Fox 

Copyright © 2019 Laura S. Fox 

All Rights Reserved 

Gay Erotica 

Intended for Mature Audiences Only 

This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age. 

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Chapter Seventeen – A Twist Of Fate

Ruslan looked around, trying hard to look pious. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who was trying to do that. Francis Davenport might have had more enemies than friends attending his funeral, people who wanted to make sure, just like Johnny, that the defunct was dead without one shadow of a doubt, and would soon be six feet under.

As his eyes roamed over the attendees, something caught his attention. Nigel was close to the priest, his head down, his hands clasped in front of him, in a visible effort to hold it together. Ruslan felt a bit touched. No matter how big an asshole Nigel was, he had just lost his father, the only parent he had had left in the world, and that could not be easy.

For a few seconds, Ruslan looked at Nigel from his place. There was plenty of distance between them, so he could not see him clearly. Yet, the oddest thing, when Nigel lifted his head, Ruslan thought he saw something that startled him. A grin seemed to split Nigel's face in two. Impatiently, he pulled at Johnny's sleeve.

"What is it?" Johnny whispered.

"Just look at Nigel," Ruslan replied.

The priest managed to catch himself into his long robe and stumbled. Courteously, Nigel hurried to help him. Ruslan set his eyes on him, avid to see any traces of that nasty grin he had noticed. But right now, Nigel's head hung down again, and discreetly, he patted his eyes with a handkerchief.

"I suppose even an asshole like him could have tears for his father," Johnny commented.

"I wasn't talking about that. Just earlier, he seemed to be smiling."

"Are you sure, pretty? He looks kind of wrecked."

Now Ruslan wasn't so sure anymore. At this distance, his sight could play tricks on him. "Not sure. Not really. It just struck me as unusual. But I might have imagined everything. I don't like the guy, but I shouldn't be this petty. It's his father's funeral, after all."

Johnny's eyes seemed to follow Nigel for a while. Ruslan knew Johnny took his words at face value. Right now, though, he could not help but feel a little guilty. He started to say something, but an old lady in front of them turned in her seat and hushed him with a severe look and a hissing sound. The tall black feather adorning her hat was shaking with equal indignation. Ruslan murmured his apologies and looked down, chastised.

After the ceremony, Ruslan had to drag Johnny after him to address his condolences. They had to do the whole thing since they were present. They stopped in front of Nigel. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Nigel," Ruslan said in a voice he hoped didn't sound fake.

Nigel took his hand and stared him in the eyes. Right now, he looked like a kicked puppy. "I guess I'm an orphan now," he said with a long, heart wrenching sigh.

Ruslan patted his shoulder. "You must be strong, Nigel. Your father would be proud of you. It was a beautiful service."

Nigel nodded solemnly. He then offered his hand to Johnny. Ruslan watched his lover as he shook Nigel's hand shortly, without saying a word.

"We should see each other sometime. It won't be long until you take over your father's business, too," Nigel said. "I would like to continue the good business relationship our dads had."

"Of course," Ruslan said after a short moment of hesitation. "But it will be long until I take over the family business. Papa has plenty of active years in front of him."

"Eh, you never know," Nigel said with another long sigh. "I thought my father would live for many years and that I wouldn't take over the family business this soon. I suppose that I must rise to the occasion, now. That is why I want to keep the relationships my father worked so hard to build over the years."

"Of course," Ruslan said again, but now something in Nigel's body language was making him wary.

They were pushed from behind by other people who wanted to address their condolences, so they bid their goodbye in a hurry and moved along.

Ruslan could feel Johnny walking next to him, his body tense. He didn't have to look to know that his lover's face was all a frown.

"Johnny, do you think we could walk a little slower? Any faster, and I'll have to sprint to catch up with you."

"Sorry, pretty. Just lost in thought, is all," Johnny said.

"Can you tell me what you're thinking about? You look like you're ready to wreck someone with your fists."

"I believe what you thought you saw earlier is true. That asshole Nigel is pretty damned happy about his father kicking the bucket."

"Now it's my turn to ask, Johnny. Are you sure?"

Johnny nodded curtly and followed with a grunt.

"What of his behavior made you think that?" Ruslan asked.

"I watched him. As soon as someone approached him, he was all sad and weeping. But, in between, he looked at everyone like he had just won some fucking lottery. The fucker is happy about his father's death. And it doesn't look like Francis had managed to choose a replacement or teach Nigel how to stop being an asshole."

"That's bad," Ruslan said in a low voice. "I should warn papa. He'll know what to do about this."

"And, in the meantime, we don't go to meet this asshole at all, not even for a scoop of ice cream. I don't care if your papa thinks we should. That's not happening."

"Of course," Ruslan hurried to appease his lover. "I was just being polite when I talked to him."

They walked in silence to the car waiting for them. This time, it was a car put at their disposal by Douglas. The old man was traveling with Martin, like usual. They would talk about it all at home, as they were supposed to reunite back at his papa's. For him, that mansion, austere on the outside, but warm on the inside, would always be his home, even if he didn't live there anymore.

***

Douglas seemed lost in thought, as they walked inside and gathered all inside the old man's studio. Ruslan beckoned Johnny to sit by his side on the leather sofa, but his lover shook his head. He chose not to insist. Johnny was restless and he couldn't sit down. Ruslan wondered whether Johnny was reading too much into Nigel's behavior. Yet, at the same time, he could not wholeheartedly reject the idea that Nigel wasn't at all devastated by his father's death.

"Papa, we need to talk about Nigel," Ruslan was the first to speak.

Douglas just nodded. He picked a letter from his desk, stared at it like it was important and then threw it back into the pile. Ruslan found that odd. His papa was a stickler for orderliness.

"Yes, we must," the old man said. "The worse came to worst, eventually. Nigel is in charge of the family business, and that doesn't bode well with a lot of people. We should be prepared."

"Prepared? But for what? Sometimes, papa, I wish you haven't kept me so much in the dark about your business."

"I haven't, Russy. What you see is all there is with us. You're as involved with the casino business as you need to be. And, if I were to retire, you know everything to take it all from my hands."

"Retire? Seriously? But why? Papa, I don't want that much responsibility. And you're in top shape. What reason could you have to retire?"

"I am getting quite old, Russy. Don't you want to take the burden of responsibility, as you say, from my shoulders?"

"Just what I said," Ruslan replied with a huff. "Come on, papa. I'm not five. What's going on? It's not like you to think of retirement."

"You're getting married, Russy. Don't you want to be completely grownup? Running the business by yourself is in your power. And you'll have Johnny to help you."

"Well, if running the business means having to deal with that asshole Nigel on a regular basis, no, thanks. And how come he knew you would retire?"

"He knew? What do you mean?" Douglas seemed surprised. "No word of such a thing was spoken outside this house."

"At the funeral, he just ran his mouth about how we should continue our business relationship just like our dads. He was talking about that as if he knew. Not that he said it directly."

Douglas frowned and his hands reached for the pile of letters again. "Don't worry, Russy. If Nigel Davenport believes that he can play the big boys' game, he'll be in for a rude awakening."

"What do you mean?"

"It means that, for the time being, a lot of people will have their eyes on him. He can try to shake things up, but he'll not end up well if he steps the wrong people on their toes."

"And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Ruslan asked, throwing a sideway glance at Johnny, whose face seemed to be all granite, his lips set in a harsh thin line.

"You two? Plan your wedding, of course, and enjoy your youth. Time flies and you never know when your joints start to swell, your bones start to hurt, and you can't sleep more than six hours a night."

"Anything I can do for you?" Ruslan asked. "Don't say `take over the business' because I won't. But, maybe, if you want a break."

"Actually," Douglas said and he finally seemed to find what he was looking for, "there is something you can do. Take over the business only for a couple of weeks. See how you feel walking in my shoes a little. Let's call it a test drive."

"Okay, I can do that," Ruslan said with a sigh. "But what will you do in the meantime, papa? You'll still guide me, right?"

"Over the phone, yes, and only if you really feel like you must ask for my advice. As for what I'll do, Martin and I will take a vacation." Douglas showed Ruslan a colorful flyer, which appeared to be the thing the old man had searched for through his correspondence.

Ruslan stood up and took it. "Wow, you really meant it about aching bones and all that. I won't say that you don't deserve it. Ever since I've known you, you've been nothing but work, work, work. What can I say? You two should have some fun. But only for two weeks. I'm seriously not taking over the business this soon. You're not intimidated by Nigel, are you, papa? I mean, he didn't say anything to scare you, right? I know that now he has money and goons probably --"

"Russy," Douglas looked at him visibly amused, "Nigel doesn't even play in the little league. He can't be someone I would be afraid of."

"But is there someone that you could be afraid of?" Ruslan asked, sensing that his old man was omitting something on purpose, yet again.

Douglas chuckled. "We all have someone like that. And it's a good thing. It keeps us modest. Ask Johnny. It's a simple truth that anyone who ever picked up a pair of gloves knows."

Johnny just nodded, without saying a thing. Ruslan noted briefly how his lover had kept silent throughout their visit.

He huffed. "I'm asking you a direct question, and you become a philosopher. But have it your way. I'm sure that if I insist, you'll have me running in circles, trying to chase my own tail."

Douglas's face lit up. "Russy, I would never do that. Don't worry about Nigel. He's nothing but flotsam. He might believe he's in charge of some juggernaut, but the truth is that he has an entire life ahead of him to build up his father's legacy from scratches."

"What do you mean, papa?"

"Francis didn't leave behind the prosperous business everyone thought. There are troubles with the books, a lot of losses that haven't yet been accounted for, and overall, Nigel's inheritance is one big mess."

"And does Nigel know that?"

"If he doesn't, he will soon enough. This is not exactly word on the street. But let's say that his father's associates who used to play golf with him know it very well. Nigel will have to work hard to salvage something. Along that train of thought, I can see clearly now why Francis had sent Nigel to woo you. Knowing how much I wanted you to settle down, he had hoped for a swift arrangement that would save his dying business. Again, it was something I should have been aware of."

"Good thing Nigel sucks at wooing," Ruslan said.

Douglas looked at him with reproach. By how Johnny shifted in his place, Ruslan was sure his lover wasn't laughing at his joke, either. "Fine, I take it back. It was bad taste," he said quickly. "Then I should wish you a great time getting massages and water therapy for the next two weeks. But don't relax too much, and think that you can buy that resort and live there. Your business is here and will be waiting for you. And I'm here, too. You can't abandon me," he added in a theatrical voice that made his papa laugh.

"I think I'm leaving you in capable hands. Johnny, just make sure Ruslan is happy. It's all I'm asking."

"Sure thing, Douglas," Johnny said.

Ruslan was relieved to hear Johnny talking. "Then if you know about Nigel and all, we won't keep you from packing for your vacation. Ah, papa, one more thing. Johnny noticed some weird things lately."

Douglas looked at him, and then at Johnny. "Define weird," he said.

Johnny was the one to speak now. "Someone's tailing us for days."

"Tailing us?" Ruslan was surprised. "I thought it was just a hunch."

"It was," Johnny replied. "But dudes in black suits, black hats, and black cars, were at the funeral, too. And funny thing, they followed our car."

"And you didn't think it was something I should know?" Ruslan asked.

"I'm telling you now."

"Boys, don't fight. That's just my security detail, watching over you, until things are right again. I could not say if striking a deal with Francis Davenport would work, and I hired people to keep an eye on you. I didn't think you would notice."

"Well, Johnny did. And papa, you could have told us."

"I didn't want you two to worry."

"You had us worried by not telling us. What if Johnny walked over to one of these guys, and gave him a piece of his mind?"

"But that didn't happen. Well, I hope you don't mind a bit of discreet company for the next several weeks. Until Nigel understands his place in the food chain."

"That's a bit overkill," Ruslan said. "Do you really think we need protection? Johnny might feel offended."

"Johnny is a great fighter. But he knows plenty about people who don't fight fair. Don't you, Johnny?"

"Yeah, I do. But you could have told us."

"In hindsight, I believe I should have," Douglas offered an apology. "Just until the little chaos stirred by Francis's death dies down. After that, everything will go back to normal."

Johnny nodded, and Ruslan stood up shaking his head. "As long as you're not offended, I'll go with papa's security detail, too."

His lover was silent again, as they left his father's house. Ruslan wanted to ask what was still troubling him, but Johnny beat him to it. "Your papa is worried, Ruslan. I can't tell why, but there's plenty he's not telling."

"Don't I know it," Ruslan said dryly. "That's him. There are always secrets. And he somehow believes that he's keeping them to protect me."

"Do you have any idea what those secrets might be about?"

"None. Each time I insist, he somehow steers the conversation away and then tells me that I'll know everything when the moment is right."

"He left you in charge of the business. Maybe that's what he wanted. All this secrecy is about that."

"Maybe, but it feels personal. Whatever, I'm just babbling at this point. A lot has happened lately, and I might just be a bit confused. Don't worry; we'll steer clear of Nigel. I believe papa expects the worst from him."

"But if that's true, why leave for a vacation now?"

Ruslan shrugged. "He does deserve it. And he hired those dudes to keep an eye on us. We should be safe."

"Do I look like I'm afraid?" Johnny snorted.

"Hey, looks who's all macho now. Back in there, you were all for papa's philosophical take on guys who don't fight fair, and all that."

"Yeah. And I'm keeping to that. I'm never afraid, though."

"Well, that's a comforting thought." Ruslan took Johnny's arm, and leaned against it. "I'm safe when I'm with you."

Johnny threw him a look full of love. "That's good to know."

"But I will protect you, too. Like I told your mom."

Johnny smiled. "Do that."

"What? No protests? No `I can handle myself,' and all that?"

"No," Johnny said promptly.

"Wow."

"It feels nice to have someone who's having my back for a change," Johnny explained.

"That's actually my papa who's having our backs."

"You're stronger than you think, pretty," Johnny said and kissed the crown of his head in a tender gesture.

"I hope you're right. Because I feel a bit thrown off balance by papa's behavior. But I will do my best not to bankrupt us all while he's away."

"Hey, he's only one phone call away. Whenever in doubt, just call him. But I think you will be fine."

"How can you be so sure?" Ruslan asked.

"Once, because you're not only beautiful, you're smart, too. And your dad has trusted you with the books for years. You just need to take on some more responsibilities now, is all."

"Thanks for thinking so highly of me," Ruslan said, half-joking.

"I wouldn't get hitched with you if I didn't," Johnny replied, and laughed.

"Joker." Ruslan made a sour face and punched Johnny in the shoulder.

***

One week into his papa's vacation, and Ruslan had every reason to believe what Johnny said about him. He was not one to brag, but he had managed to take care of everything beautifully. And he had kept from calling Douglas every single day. Actually, he had only called once, and then decided that he should allow his old man to have a relaxing vacation.

"I told you you'd be great as a boss," Johnny said as he came behind him and began massaging his stiff shoulders. "Now, Mr. Boss, take a break. It's an order."

"Really?" Ruslan leaned into Johnny, enjoying the firm fingers working the kinks in his muscles with determination. "But I have no time for that. In one week, papa will be home, and I won't have that much to show."

"Are you planning to grow the business by twenty percent in two weeks or something? You work too much."

"Wow, you sound just like a nagging wife."

Johnny chuckled and slowly began licking his ear, making his entire body shudder. "Do nagging wives do this?"

"All right, you convinced me." Ruslan turned to face Johnny and kissed him.

Johnny was quick to push him into the desk and step between his legs which he had opened willingly. They were busy trying to undress each other, when the sound of the phone ringing made them stop. "I probably should get this," Ruslan said apologetically.

He was still smiling, and Johnny was squeezing his ass, when he answered. "Martin? Hey, don't tell me you miss home already --"

Ruslan listened to the butler's steady, grave words, and all became a blur. He caught the desk with his free hand to keep himself from falling. Sensing his distress, Johnny stopped. "When, how? No, it can't be --"

He put the phone down and doubled over as if punched in the stomach.

"Pretty, what's wrong?" Johnny's voice swam to him, muffled and unreal.

"Papa," he whispered.

He could not say anything more. He just broke down and began sobbing.

***

Johnny kept Ruslan's hand in his tightly. Ever since Douglas Kent had passed away in what seemed to be a strange accident, Ruslan had not been himself. The problem was Johnny had no idea what to do to deal with that kind of situation. In the end, he had just settled for holding his lover, and Ruslan seemed to be appreciative of that, even if he said nothing, and still remained silent, spacing out, sometimes for hours.

Martin had told him to let Ruslan grieve, and just be present in case he needed him. But Johnny still felt useless. They had received an urn with the old man's ashes, as Douglas had apparently left clear instructions about his funeral, and Ruslan hadn't spoken much since.

And now, they were in some lawyer's office, and they were waiting for a man with a balding head, and thin-rimmed glasses barely hanging on his nose, to read Douglas Kent's will. The name on the door was Murray Young, and Johnny noticed in passing the lavish surroundings.

At first, Ruslan hadn't wanted to go, but Martin had insisted. The quiet butler had been of great help. The only time when Ruslan said more than just a few words had been when he begged Martin to stay. And Martin had said simply that one could not quit being a friend.

Now, they were seated in front of Mr. Young, and the room was full of strangers. Johnny had gathered as much that they were the late Douglas Kent's other relatives. There were some angry whispers, and Johnny could tell there were pointed looks thrown in their direction.

As Mr. Young asked if everyone were present, one man who was seated the closest to the desk began talking. "I don't see why he has to be here." He put his thin chin high and gestured toward Ruslan. "He was just Douglas's whim on the last leg of his life. I bet that if we look into those adoption papers, we will see plenty of irregularities. I had counsel looking into his situation. If those papers are not in order, he has no right to any inheritance."

The lawyer listened calmly to the man's complaints. "If you believe there are any problems with Douglas's will, you can attack it in court later. As for Ruslan Kent's situation, I can assure you that Douglas left me clear instructions in regards to his inheritance."

It seemed as if the displeased relative wanted to add something, but a stern look from Mr. Young shut him up. After that, the lawyer began reading the will in a monotone voice. "I leave the house located at," he recited the address, "to my legal spouse, Martin Hoffman --"

The room exploded. "Spouse? What spouse? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Quiet," Mr. Young ordered. "I have the marriage certificate right here. I verified its authenticity myself, so there's no room for error."

"Did Douglas lose his mind right before passing away? Maybe this man," accusing fingers pointed at the butler who sat impassibly in his corner, "staged the whole accident in which Douglas lost his life!"

Ruslan squeezed Johnny's hand. Johnny looked at his lover to see him turned toward where Martin was sitting. He could tell Ruslan was trying to catch the butler's eyes, but Martin was staring straight ahead, looking dignified and calm, as always.

"The certificate is five years old," Mr. Young continued, completely ignoring the scandal taking place in his office. "Douglas told me at that time to keep it a secret from anyone else. As his counselor and confidante, I have respected his wish until this moment. Please, refrain from accusations. Douglas's and Martin's relationship had dated long before they decided to make it official. Now, if I may continue," he added, staring over his glasses at the men and women in the room who varied between feeling completely perplexed, yelling, or grinding their teeth. "As for the rest of my wealth," he began enumerating various assets, "I leave it in its entirety to my natural grandson, Ruslan Kent."

Now Ruslan was the first to jump to his feet. "What?!"

For the first time in his life, Johnny stood there, dumbstruck. Natural grandson? What was the old man playing at?

"What's the meaning of this?" Ruslan took a step toward the lawyer's desk, but he stopped, his fists closed by his sides.

"Now that I won't believe!" One of the relatives yelled. "First, Douglas marries his butler, and then he fakes that there's a biological connection between him and some ... bastard child?"

"That is a strong accusation. I have everything right here. DNA tests, Ruslan's birth certificate, and everything you might or might not think of to prove this is true."

"So she had the baby. Go figure," someone from behind, a woman now, hissed like a poisonous snake.

"Shut up. This is all staged," another protested. "Douglas wanted so much that the stray he picked up from the street to inherit everything that he invented it all. With his lawyer's help."

"Do you really want to pick a bone with me?" Mr. Young pushed the glasses up his nose and stared at the protester. The man shut his trap in a second. "I thought so. Feel free to attack the will. But here is a piece of advice: don't. It will be just a waste of money. This will is rock solid."

Johnny watched as the angry relatives got up from their chairs, mumbling and throwing ugly looks Ruslan's way. The woman from earlier grabbed her bag with gnarly hands and marched toward Ruslan, with her chin set up high.

"Your mother was a slut," she spat at him, and Ruslan recoiled from her, as if from a physical blow.

Johnny shot up to his feet.

"Let's not turn this into a death match," Mr. Young said, and Johnny stopped. "Now, except for the beneficiaries of Douglas's will, please, everybody out."

Mr. Young was not a big man. His body seemed frail, under his perfectly tailored suit, but, from his chair, he dominated the room. That was his turf, and he would not allow anyone to insult him there. Johnny nodded curtly toward him, and was met with a mirrored gesture.

Ruslan's voice trembled as he began talking. "What's this? About my ... mother? And my ... grandfather?"

The lawyer sighed. "It was Douglas's wish to keep everything in great secrecy. For the record, I did advise him, on several occasions, to tell you everything."

"Why didn't he? And, is it really true? That I'm his grandson?"

"Yes. I would not lie about such thing. My profession and my career would be on the line. As for why he didn't tell you, I can only say what he shared with me. He didn't want to place you in any danger, by letting this information out. Also, he was hoping to find your mother, too, and reunite you all. However, that was something he didn't manage to achieve."

"My mother? She was his daughter?" Ruslan was talking slowly, as if the words were foreign in his mouth.

"Yes. Illegitimate, a mistake from his youth. Well, those are my words, please forgive me. He didn't consider Melanie a mistake."

"Melanie? Was that her name? And who was her mother? Why didn't papa ... my grandfather marry her?"

Mr. Young put one hand up. "I understand that you have a lot of questions, young man. Allow me to speak, and you might save up some energy. Now sit and listen."

Ruslan sat on the chair obediently, like a child. Johnny reached for his hand and took it in his. It was stone cold.

"For a long time, Douglas had not been aware of Melanie's existence. By the time her mother decided to tell Douglas the truth, I'm afraid it was too late."

"Too late for what?" Ruslan asked, in a low whisper.

"Melanie was a wild child. Willful, stubborn. Douglas thought he needed to be hard on her, but her running away showed us all clearly that particular approach didn't work."

"She ran away? How old was she? And what about me?" Ruslan leaned toward the desk, as if being closer meant he could get more answers. "Was I born then?"

Mr. Young shook his head. "No. But she was pregnant when she ran away, yelling at us all that she would take care of her child by herself, without our help. What a frightful night," he added, shaking his head. "Martin searched for her, in the rain and cold, for eight hours straight, only to come back empty-handed."

Ruslan turned toward the quiet butler. "Martin, why didn't you tell me anything? All these years?"

"They weren't my secrets to tell," Martin replied in his usual, steady voice.

"Always loyal to papa," Ruslan said with a mix of bitterness and affection in his voice, and forgetting, for the moment, that Douglas had actually been his grandfather. "What about my father?" he turned his attention back to the lawyer. "Do you know who he is?"

There was a short moment of hesitation from Mr. Young that wasn't lost on Johnny.

"There were rumors that he was quite an influential and, let's say, unsavory character." Mr. Young replied.

"What? Like a politician or something?" Ruslan asked, seeing how the lawyer showed no intention to provide more information.

"No, not that kind of influence. He was just earning his bad boy stripes during those days."

"Aren't you going to tell me who he is?"

"As I said. There were rumors. I would not be able to say, in good conscience, that he is your father. And let's just say that he is not an easy man to reach for a paternity test."

"Why say anything, then?" Johnny asked gruffly.

Mr. Young pushed his glasses up his nose again and looked at him sternly. "All the information I am allowed to give, I will give freely. The reason I'm telling you this is because Douglas didn't want that particular man to catch even the slightest whiff that he has a son."

"Why?" Ruslan asked, and something in his voice was making him sound like a lost, frightened child.

"Douglas was afraid of losing you to him. He told me on several occasions that it was enough that he lost Melanie. He always blamed himself for her running away. And not only for that. After Martin didn't find her that night, he just said that she would come back when she would feel hungry and realize her mistakes. She never did, as you know. Douglas never forgave himself. When we started the search for real, it was too late. It was like she had fallen from the face of the earth. He told me that his own pride and belief in his parenting skills blinded him."

"But it wasn't that," Martin intervened.

"What was?" Ruslan asked and his voice trembled a little.

"He thought she loved him, even if he had been absent from her life for so long. And she did. When her mother sent Melanie to Douglas, she was already fifteen, wild and restless, as I told you."

"Did papa suspect that maybe it was that bad man who hurt my mother?"

"At first, yes. But he even aided in the search later on. We all kept the secret of her pregnancy, though. The last thing we all wanted was for him to become too involved with us."

"Still, maybe it was all ... I don't know, a ruse from his part," Ruslan said, flexing his fingers and wiping his palm against his pants.

"We did suspect him plenty. But everything we learned led us only to the conclusion that he could not have been involved. With the utmost certainty. He was out of the country, and none of his associates were around during the time of Melanie's disappearance."

"But where could she have gone?" Ruslan murmured.

"Melanie knew a lot of people. Her mother had been quite an exotic character. She had relationships with people from every walk of life. Some of them must have helped Melanie. Throughout her pregnancy, and later, to give birth. They must have hidden her pretty well. All our efforts, and not only ours, were in vain."

"I hate it," Ruslan said, his fingers curling angrily into a fist. "That he didn't think I should know."

"He thought he was protecting you."

"Protecting me? How?"

"Douglas thought he had committed plenty of mistakes while trying to take care of Melanie. He told me that he wouldn't do the same mistakes with you. He just didn't want you to get any ideas into your head about searching for your presumptive father. More than once he told me that he wouldn't lose you how he lost Melanie."

"He could have just told me. I would have kept the secret," Ruslan said and stared down, lost in a world of hurt only he knew.

Johnny let his hand to wrap an arm around him. "Forgive your papa, pretty," he said. "He loved you as he could."

Ruslan still had his head hung low. Johnny pulled him closer as his lover started crying.

"What now?" he asked the lawyer.

"Now Ruslan is the rightful heir. Don't worry about the accusations and threats Ruslan's relatives tried to make earlier. They have nothing."

"Could we see that birth certificate?" Johnny asked.

Mr. Young nodded and handed to him a piece of paper.

"Look here, pretty," Johnny said gently, pushing the birth certificate under Ruslan's eyes. "It says who your mother is."

Ruslan didn't look, but instead he turned toward Johnny and wrapped his arms around him. Johnny huddled his shaking body for a while, as the other people present remained silent.

***

For weeks after the reading of the will, things looked as if they could not go back to normal. Ruslan was still shaken, and Johnny was still walking on eggshells around him. But slowly, as with anything in life, the pain was fading away, leaving behind a constant, dull ache. They still visited the old mansion from time to time, as Martin was most of the time away. The old butler had offered no explanations, but Johnny could only assume Martin wasn't particularly crazy about living by himself in that big house, especially since it was a place where he had used to open the door.

Martin was just one of the many secrets Douglas had left behind. Ruslan had tried to get more out of the quiet butler, but to no avail. Had they been married? Yes. Had they been lovers? Yes, for a long time. How come Douglas had let him continue to be the butler if that was the case? Martin had said it was his choice. Douglas and he came from a different world. When they were young, secrecy about such things was normal. They were too old to change.

Johnny didn't quite buy everything Martin said. But, for Ruslan's sake, he just pretended he didn't notice.

The aftermath after Douglas's death had more repercussions on Ruslan's heart. The business, otherwise, was thriving. That, in itself, could not be considered a source of trouble, but, as the saying went, trouble sometimes just finds you.

"Nigel Davenport asked for a meeting. A business meeting," Ruslan said, his voice loaded with wariness.

"So blow him off," Johnny replied. "Is the scumbag bankrupt already?"

"By what word is on the street, his situation is not exactly good. I suppose he wants a loan."

"Don't even speak to him, pretty."

Ruslan hesitated. Johnny didn't like that. Ever since Douglas died and Ruslan learned about his mother, there was something about him that wasn't quite right. There was anger there. Johnny got that. In his place, he would be angry, too. But there was also something else. Like Ruslan was no longer complete and was trying hard to fill that hole inside him. While doing that, he kept to himself more often than not.

Now it was one of those situations. Johnny could bet his right arm that Ruslan would take the meeting with Nigel Davenport.

"You will meet him, won't you?" Johnny asked, feeling bitterness creeping in, despite trying to keep it at bay. "Why?"

"I have some questions to ask. It was strange that Nigel had been so sure that I would take over papa's business."

Despite knowing that Douglas had been his grandfather, Ruslan didn't change his way of talking about him. Johnny got that, too. What he didn't get was why Ruslan was so stubborn about seeing that scumbag.

"He's dangerous."

Ruslan shrugged. "And? It's not like I will lock myself in some ivory tower and spend there the days of my life. I'm not helpless, Johnny."

"I didn't say that."

"Are you sure?" Ruslan frowned. "I think I've had enough of a man who tried to protect me. I expect more from you."

"I get it that you're still mad at your papa ... grandfather." Johnny could feel his anger rising, too. "But don't play this card with me, pretty."

Ruslan's beautiful eyes set on him, and right now, they were challenging him. "I'll take the meeting with Nigel."

"So what I have to say about that doesn't matter?" It was Johnny's turn to frown.

"Unless you agree with me, no, it doesn't," Ruslan said defiantly.

Johnny grabbed Ruslan's arm hard and shook him. "Nigel could hurt you," he said through his teeth. "Why can't you get it through your head?"

Ruslan shook his arm free and set his chin high. "Well, then I think it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Oh, yeah? So it's your risk? Yours only?"

"Yes. Mine."

"Good. Then don't let me stop you." Johnny turned on his heels, and made sure to slam the door behind him hard enough to make his point of view known.

He was getting pissed more and more at Ruslan. Grief, he got. Anger, too. But not this stubbornness that put a wall that went sky-high between them. Ruslan didn't let anyone in anymore.

Of course, there was no more word of the wedding. Johnny understood it all. Douglas's passing away was still fresh in everyone's minds and hearts. But the problems between them ran deeper than that.

They slept in the same house, under the same roof. They shared the same bed, but even if they made love as usual, it was like any joy was gone from their relationship. Johnny hated that. Ruslan had to understand that Johnny was there for him.

Whatever, he would put up with everything until the hell froze over because Johnny would not give up ever on the man he loved above all else. But he needed to think of a way to get Ruslan to open up, and if there was one thing he wasn't good at that was thinking too much.

***

Ruslan stared at the door for a while and reached for his phone. He was about to call Johnny and tell him to come back when an incoming call appeared on the screen. With a grimace, he took it. Johnny could not understand the crap he was dealing with right now. But he would put all the demons to rest, as soon as he discovered what Nigel knew.

"Yes," he said. "Anytime you want. Please, I would like you to be my guest."

It roiled the acid in his stomach to talk to Nigel Davenport. Either way, he would make that man spill the truth about Douglas. Whatever he knew, Ruslan was entitled to know. There were too many details about his papa's death that didn't sit well with him.

First of all, Douglas had been in perfect shape, and to say that he just slipped on ice and fell, hitting his head, seemed a bit farfetched. Not that it couldn't happen; even young healthy people could die like that. But Ruslan wasn't convinced. He felt there was something there that didn't feel right.

Douglas's desire to have his remains cremated had been a novelty to him, too. There hadn't been a proper burial, and Ruslan still felt like he hadn't said goodbye.

He shook his head. Nigel would be there soon and he needed his head in the game. If he needed to bribe the scumbag to find out the truth, he would do it. There was plenty of money in his personal account that he could use without hurting the business in any way.

With a sigh, he checked his phone. Johnny hadn't called, and now there wasn't enough time to have a proper conversation about everything that was going on. Johnny couldn't understand everything. Hell, Ruslan had a lot of problems understanding himself.

He knew Johnny was getting restless. In a way, it made Ruslan want to be done with everything fast, tie the loose ends of Douglas's death already, so that he could get back to being happy with his lover.

Johnny just needed to have a little more patience. Ruslan knew he needed to tell him directly that. Yet, somehow, lately, whenever they talked, they seemed to be at odds. It was like Johnny wasn't even on his side anymore. He would deal with everything later, after he got to the bottom of what Nigel knew and why he could not let go of his papa's death just yet.

The last few months have been rough. Ruslan knew, deep inside, that Johnny tried his best, but he could not bring himself to tell his lover that everything would be all right. There was something, like a premonition of sorts, that stopped him. The things that he had learned about his mother and father didn't help. Now he was restless, like there was a part of him that wanted to reach for something and he just couldn't grasp it.

His grandfather had been right in one way. Ruslan wanted now to know everything, about his mother, about his father, about why Douglas thought it better to keep it all hidden from him. He felt hurt like never in his life, although he knew well that he had hurt plenty. This was deep, so personal that it held a distinctive place, all of it its own, and Ruslan sensed it like a cold pebble right in the center of his chest, slowly expanding and threatening to take over.

He took his coat and went out the door. He would meet with Nigel soon at the office. In the meantime, maybe Johnny could get a cool head and they would talk. That was something waiting to be solved, too. Despite the loss and anger he experienced, he didn't want to lose Johnny. And that would take quite a bit of work.

***

"Please, have a seat. Something to drink? What's your poison?" Ruslan pretended to be relaxed, making small talk, so that Nigel wouldn't notice how nervous he was.

Nigel waved. "I'm good. I have some important business to talk to you, Ruslan."

The asshole was staring him in the eye, his smile wide and insincere. Ruslan just nodded. "Shoot."

"You might have heard rumors --"

"Of your situation? Everyone has. Let's cut it to the chase, Nigel. What is it that you want from me?"

Nigel leaned into his chair and stared at Ruslan through his eyelashes. "You know I'm sorry for what I did."

Funny thing, Nigel chose that particular moment to repent. Ruslan could not keep a small grimace. "Let bygones be bygones," he said politely.

"No, I shouldn't have done it. You are just so ... pretty."

Ruslan could feel the mental eye roll coming, but kept a straight face. Plus, that word in Nigel's mouth just sounded wrong. "Thanks," he said curtly. "Let's forget about that. Now, the present is more important. What can I do for you?"

Nigel was a complete oaf, apparently. He threw Ruslan a look full of innuendo and smiled. "Are you sure that's a question you want to ask me, because --"

Ruslan stopped him. "Nigel. I want to help you. I mean it. But I want something in return."

Nigel's smile faded. "Okay. How much can you give me?"

Ruslan wrote something on a piece of paper and handed to Nigel. There was a frown on Nigel's face as he looked at it. "I'm sure you can do better than that, Ruslan. Everyone knows you have golden hands when it comes to business."

"I would not take from my business to hand it to you. That's what I can afford."

"It's hardly something I can work with," Nigel protested.

Ruslan could not say whether Nigel was trying to be a tough bargain, or he really meant it. "That's all I can do for you. But if you help me with what I want to know, I will continue to help you. Until you get back on your feet," Ruslan added.

Nigel's eyebrows shot up, a clear sign of interest. "All right. What do you want to know?"

"At your father's funeral, you hinted at my taking over the business. Why? You almost said it like it was a sure thing."

Nigel seemed to ponder for a bit, his hands clasped in front of his face, tapping his lips with his index fingers glued together. "Do you know what my father was best at?"

Ruslan shook his head. Nigel didn't deny knowing something. That was a good sign.

"He dealt in secrets mostly. And now you know there's no secret that the business he left me is all in shambles."

Ruslan nodded. There was a sensation of growing pressure weighing on his chest.

"Well, it wasn't by accident that that happened. Others didn't care to help him. Apparently, they were affected, too, one way or the other. Within certain circles, there are just a handful of men who are truly in charge. And all, every single one, told my father that they were having troubles of their own. What do you think about that?"

"I am surprised to hear this."

"Funny. I would have thought you would know more, even than me."

"Why? Papa ... I mean, my grandfather didn't tell me anything."

"Grandfather," Nigel said the word like it was something foreign he was trying to pronounce for the first time in his life. "Now that's what I call a twist of fate. And you had no idea, right?"

"Right," Ruslan admitted with a small grimace. Talking to Nigel about Douglas wasn't on top of his list.

"Well, that may be the case. But, I'm telling you, someone was pressuring your grandfather into something. It could be that my dad knew the guy. I overheard him telling someone that and I quote, we all have the same enemy, even Douglas Kent. The fact that his business wasn't affected was thought very strange by my father. Unfortunately, he died before finding out more."

"You're only making me confused, Nigel. Who is this common enemy?"

Nigel shrugged. Ruslan could tell the scumbag knew more, but he didn't want to say anything. "I'll write you a check right now, Nigel. Just spill it, okay?"

"I want more than just money, Ruslan," Nigel said. "How about becoming business partners?"

"That's a bit too much. No deal."

"Is it because of that incident? Oh, of course. Your fiancé wouldn't agree. But it's not like you have to tell him. I doubt that he even understands what we do is all about. All brawn that man."

Ruslan pursed his lips. "Leave Johnny out of it."

"That's exactly what I'm proposing."

"I told you. No deal. As for the reason, let's just say that I don't see any good to come from such an association."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm some loser?"

"You're good at filling in the blanks, I have to give it to you," Ruslan replied.

Nigel's face darkened. "You should keep your friends close, Ruslan. You never know when you might need them."

"Come on, Nigel. Don't be such a sourpuss. What I'm proposing is far better. You get enough money to get by for a while, and I don't have to get mixed up with you."

Nigel showed teeth, but only for a second. "I like you. You're all fire. But I think we'll get to know each other better sooner than you think."

Ruslan sighed and began writing the check for Nigel. He held it, without handing it over to the other. "Tell me what you know, Nigel."

It was clear that the scumbag was eyeing the check with hungry eyes. "Okay. You know how to haggle. What can I say? Well, the thing is like this. My dad told the guy he was talking to when I overheard them that your dad's business wasn't affected for a single reason."

"Which was?" Ruslan could feel his impatience growing.

"That whoever is this enemy everyone is speaking of used to be friends with your granddad."

"That makes little to no sense at all."

"Yeah. I thought so, too. But my father also said that your grandfather needed to either get rid of the business or give it to someone else if he wanted to escape the maelstrom."

Ruslan pressed his index fingers against his temples. Instead of making things simpler, Nigel's revelations only made them more complicated. "So, are you trying to tell me this someone killed my grandfather?"

Nigel shrugged. "I wouldn't know. And I thought your granddad died when he slipped on ice or something. Your butler, oh, sorry, his husband was with him. It couldn't be foul play, could it? Or do you suspect the butler of being in with your granddad's killer?"

Ruslan shook his head vehemently. "No."

That was one piece of the puzzle that would not fit such a theory. Martin would have never betrayed his grandfather. That's why he could not fathom why he was still so bothered. Maybe it was all just a string of coincidences and nothing else.

"So no one suspects who this enemy, as you call him, is? And what exactly is it that he does?"

"Hostile takeovers, stuff like that. You go into some new play, thinking the terrain is fertile, and all you find is dry land. You expect to buy cheap and sell high, and nothing works as you want. You even might end up having troubles with suppliers you worked with for years. Has anything like this happened to you?"

Ruslan shook his head. "My grandfather's business is prosperous. We don't expand, we don't deal in stocks, and the suppliers so far have made no problems."

"Well, maybe you're just lucky. Or maybe it's just the calm before the storm, you know. When your business is hit, remember that I warned you and that I extended you a friendly hand. The offer still stands, you know."

"No, thanks," Ruslan said dryly.

"Well, don't mind me if I take this, though." Nigel stood up and grabbed the check Ruslan was still holding while lost in thought.

"Yeah, sure."

"Friends?" Nigel offered his hand. With some reluctance, Ruslan shook it. Nigel kept his hand and looked at him. "I still beat myself over ruining that chance I had with you by being stupid."

Ruslan pulled his hand away. "Don't worry, Nigel. You didn't have a chance to begin with."

Nigel offered a toothy grin. "Famous last words, Ruslan. See you around."

With that, the scumbag sauntered out of the office, seemingly in a better mood than when he came in. Ruslan shook his head, wondering what that could be all about.

***

"So I met Nigel and spoke to him," Ruslan started, as he was undressing and putting his clothes neatly on a hanger.

A noncommittal grunt from Johnny was the only answer. Johnny lay on the bed, some magazine in his hand, pretending to read. Ruslan knew he wasn't reading; his eyes weren't moving on the page. If he was looking at some picture, he was surely making an obsession for it.

With a sigh, Ruslan shed the undershirt and stepped out of his boxers. Maybe that was something that would cheer up Johnny a little. But Johnny didn't put down the magazine, and didn't look at him as he climbed the bed.

"Are you still mad at me?" Ruslan asked.

"I'm not mad at you."

"You left slamming the door. I might have to repaint the studio, you know?"

Johnny looked at him now. His eyes traveled over Ruslan's naked body, but then moved away. "I don't want to know what you're doing with that scumbag."

"Hey," Ruslan touched Johnny's arm gently, "it was important. And I did find out some things. I paid him and that was all."

Johnny stood up brusquely and began pacing the room. "Do you think I'm stupid, pretty?"

"No. Why would you say that?"

"Because you don't listen to me. I told you not to talk to that scumbag."

"As I said, it was important. And what did you think he would do? Screw me over the desk?"

Johnny's eyes were dark. Ruslan yelped as his lover moved quickly, and pushed him into the bed, taking his arms and putting them up, stretching them to the point of hurting. "Did he try anything?"

"No." Ruslan hoped he sounded convincing. Johnny made him feel guilty, for some reason.

"Good, `cause there's one thing I don't want to tell you anymore."

"What's that?" Ruslan challenged him.

Johnny leaned down and bit his lips, a bit too hard. But Ruslan reacted, and Johnny clearly knew he would do that. He tried to bite back, but Johnny moved quickly.

He complained. "Hey, not fair."

"What's not fair is you hanging out with that asshole."

"I'm not hanging out with him. Just cut it out."

"I won't." Johnny kissed him this time, licking and placing small bites everywhere.

Ruslan knew his lover well, but right now he felt Johnny was showing him something new. Could it be that he was jealous? There was no reason to. And Nigel had no chance, and he had never had.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, feeling a little dizzy with Johnny's kisses.

"No, I'm pissed at you. Royally."

"Ha, you said you weren't."

"I lied."

Johnny pushed himself down, only so that he could reach Ruslan's nipples, which he began torturing, sucking them hard into his mouth, making the sensations almost unbearable. "Oh, fuck," Ruslan whispered. "That's a bit too hard, Johnny."

"Tough luck, pretty. And just so you know, I had plans to tie you up and spank you really hard until you told me you were sorry."

Ruslan protested. "I'm not sorry. It was just business."

"Business? And what are we?" Johnny asked, pushing Ruslan's legs apart and nudging at his backdoor with his cock.

Ruslan knew Johnny better than going in dry, but right now, he could feel the guy was really pissed. "We are together, Johnny. We just had a bit of a disagreement."

"That guy wants to fuck you. Wet these." Johnny pushed two rough fingers into Ruslan's mouth.

So that was the only lube he would get, Ruslan thought, and began lapping at Johnny's fingers. He made sure to blink slowly and watch Johnny as he swirled his tongue around the calloused fingers. Johnny's eyes softened, and he removed the fingers.

"On all fours," he ordered.

Ruslan obeyed with some reluctance and grunted as a hard hand smacked his bottom. At least, he could feel Johnny's fingers, now coated with something more slippery than his spit, entered him and stretching him.

A hand was in his hair, its pair on one of his hips, and he sucked in a breath. Johnny wasn't in the mood for gentle. Ruslan welcome the intrusion. He could feel Johnny's cock like a spear splitting him in half, but he didn't complain. His skin was tingling, all his nerve endings were expecting the pain, and they weren't disappointed.

He began breathing hard, as Johnny pulled his body to him hard. His lover steadied him, and began imposing the rhythm, a bit rough, a bit unforgiving, but fitting. Ruslan knew he wanted Johnny not to be pissed at him anymore. If a bit of hard fucking was all it took, he was down with that. Explaining his actions seemed no longer a reasonable choice, given Johnny's anger.

Ruslan adjusted his position. His knees were set too far apart, and there was so much lack of control that it made him feel losing balance. Johnny pushed them with his thighs again, and Ruslan could feel that he was hanging only by where his lover held him.

In a confusing way, it was an exhilarating sensation. He moved to the rhythm, feeling the slow growing hum of pleasure building inside him. His cock was so hard, it made obscene noises as it slapped against his belly. He groaned and thrashed, trying hard to get a hold of something, but his hands were clasping at the sheets while he was spread open and skewered with higher and higher intensity, until the knot of pure pleasure inside his ass began exploding, triggering his release. Johnny pulled him into his cock a few more times until he, too, grunted his release.

Johnny had his eyes close as he crashed next to him on the bed. Ruslan reached for him with one arm. Johnny pulled him closer.

"Tomorrow, things will look a little better, I promise," Ruslan whispered before letting sleep take them both.

***

"Now that's something odd," Ruslan commented as he looked at his phone.

Johnny frowned. They were still at odds over that scumbag Nigel. Apparently, Ruslan was sure that idiot had some important information. Johnny wasn't okay at all with whatever Ruslan wanted with Nigel. But his lover was seemingly very hardheaded when it came to certain things.

Johnny didn't want to drop it. Yet, he had no idea what to say to make Ruslan stop. All he did was sit there, and do nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. At least, they were back at screwing their brains out like they were crazy or something. That dulled whatever he felt inside, but he was sure it couldn't be enough.

"What's odd? What are you looking at?" Johnny asked.

"Martin sent me a text to meet him at the house."

"A text? Couldn't he just call? Call him back and see what he wants."

"He's not answering," Ruslan replied. "The text says something about an emergency."

"This sounds fishy. Don't go, pretty. With scumbags like Nigel Davenport everywhere, you can never know."

"Johnny, Martin needs me. I won't become paranoid now."

"Then I'm coming with you. There's no way I'm letting you go alone," Johnny said.

"Didn't you have practice?"

"I did. Not anymore. Let's go," Johnny said roughly.

Ruslan hurried after him. "I still need to put my shoes on, you know. Seriously, Johnny, you should lighten up a little. Maybe Martin's phone battery is dead or something."

"He's at the house. Can't he plug it in?"

Ruslan stopped for a second and shrugged. "You can never know what's going on with old people."

Johnny didn't buy that, but he would not let Ruslan go alone. He could feel it in his gut that something wasn't right.

As they were outside, and then inside a cab, Johnny looked over his shoulder. "For just how long do you think your granddad's security detail is going to follow us around?"

Ruslan followed what Johnny was pointing at. "I guess that's something I should ask Martin about."

Johnny shook his head. Everything was damned fishy.

***

Ruslan let them both in with the spare key he had. "Martin!" He began calling.

There was light in the dining room and they both hurried there. Johnny was about to stumble over Ruslan as his lover stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at what could make Ruslan behave like that, and his feet got cold in an instant.

At the beautiful lacquered table, there was a man sitting. By his sides, one step back, a clear sign of respect, two men dressed in black with scrutinizing eyes, bald heads, and necks thick as bulls, were standing.

But it was the man sitting Johnny could not take his eyes off. He appeared so familiar, and for a couple of seconds, Johnny blinked like that could help him figure out why.

As he stared at Ruslan, hoping for an answer, it hit him. His eyes went back to the stranger, who was smiling at them, or, better said, at Ruslan. Johnny could be as good as invisible.

TBC

Author's note:

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