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  Marko was so vibrant and alive, so strong and sure for all of his talk of being old and in his twilight years, that Spencer’s never really given much thought to him dying.

  Until he actually does, and now that’s all Spencer can think about.

  But Marko didn’t die because of his age, so it’s alright that I never gave it much thought. Spencer tries to rationalize it all in his mind.

  It was a knife and some stick-thin junkie who ended his life. The stranger was too impatient for Marko to hand over his wallet and his watch during one of the elder man’s frequent strolls through the local park, so he took them by force instead. Spencer feels an almost crushing guilt for not being with Marko that morning, but in his heart he knows it wasn’t his fault. He had to work, was forced to go into school early to grade papers and set up a few parent/teacher conferences, and he was unable to accompany Marko like he normally tried to do.

  The elderly man had understood, had smiled and laughed off his apologies like he always did with a fond kiss to the forehead and an encouraging pat on the back. Marko had gone alone like he always did when Spencer couldn’t join him, like he had before he’d stepped into Spencer’s life in the first place. Nothing Spencer could have said or done would have changed the man’s mind. It was something he’d quickly grown to love about Marko. For all the man’s money and prestige, he’d been stubbornly insistent on enjoying the simpler things in life, like street vendor hotdogs and the peace that comes from a walk through the park.

  Spencer isn’t sure how long he stands there, knows that like that day so long ago in that hallway outside of that apartment, he’s lost time, gone blank like a slate wiped clean. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone else. He doesn’t even look at the other funeral goers as they file past him in tastefully dressed twos and threes, only pausing to throw their expensive white roses on top of the casket. Instead he stands utterly still, hand carefully loose around the bundled stems of the small bouquet of columbines that he knows were Marko’s favorite and remembers.

  Marko was the closest thing he’s ever had to a father—hell, the closest thing he’d ever had to a functioning parent, if he’s being honest. Their paths crossed by sheer coincidence, and the man had barely blinked before he’d grabbed him by the hand and led him into a future that he’d have never had otherwise. Marko moved him out of his dumpy apartment and into the guest room of his townhouse before Spencer was even really aware what was happening. He taught him the rules of his new lifestyle and defended him against every stuck-up asshole who thought Spencer wasn’t good enough for his place in Marko’s life. He sent Spencer to college and stood by him through every class and assignment, and only smiled when Spencer decided to become a teacher instead of a surgeon or a lawyer.

  He gave Spencer everything—a home, a future, a family—and he never asked for anything in return even though he’d gotten Spencer’s undying love and loyalty anyway. After all of that, all it took was one junky desperate for a fix to cause Spencer’s entire life to come crashing down around him all over again.

  So Spencer stays there, staring sightlessly at the gravestone while everyone else trickles away around him. He doesn’t come back to himself until it’s almost dark, until the air around him is as bitterly cold as he feels inside. Only then does he bend and place his now drooping bundle of flowers tenderly atop the roses that cover the casket. He pauses for a moment, fingertips caressing the blooms briefly before he straightens up and scrubs a hand roughly across his face.

  “I’ll never forget you, Marko. I’ll never forget everything you taught me and gave me and the fact that you showed me what it meant to have an actual family.” He chokes back a sob that he doesn’t want to let go. Spencer isn’t ashamed of crying, he’s just afraid that if he starts now he’ll never stop. “I swear I’ll try my best to make sure that you stay as proud of me in the future as you’ve always said you were in the past.”

  Chapter Five

  Spencer’s still numb a week later sitting in the office of Marko’s lawyer, the sharply dressed and rather toothy Mr. Alessandro Dequas. He’s met the older man numerous times over the years he’s lived with Marko, and while he was treated with a cool disdain in the beginning, the old shark has eventually grown almost begrudgingly fond of him. He’s become a sort of honorary uncle, the type whose greatest enjoyment comes from heckling Spencer about his potential being wasted at the school where he teaches as he tries unsuccessfully to hide his smile behind a carefully placed hand or a convenient tumbler of scotch. He’s also grown disturbingly quick to threaten anyone who speaks ill of Spencer with a lawsuit for slander or, on a few more memorable occasions, actual physical harm.

  Spencer thinks the closeness they’ve developed over the years is one of the few things that have helped him to make it to where he is now without breaking down.

  It’s Alessandro’s hand on his shoulder that snaps him out of his haze and brings his attention to warm brown eyes that are staring down at him with empathy and care.

  “It’s time, figlio. The others are being shown in as we speak. I know it is hard, but remember that Marko loved you like the son he never had, and no matter what they say, that will never change. You have as much of a right to be here as any of them, more so, if you ask my opinion.”

  Spencer reaches up and clasps his hand around the one still resting on his shoulder and gives it a thankful squeeze before Alessandro moves away and takes a seat behind his large ornate desk. Spencer straightens his spine slowly so that he’s no longer slouched miserably in his chair. Instead he sits straight and proud, concentrating on projecting the sense of clam self-assurance that Marko had worked so hard to build in him.

  He doesn’t turn his head when the door behind him opens and he can hear the others who’ve been called to the reading of Marko’s will file inside and sit in one of the various chairs around the room. He can’t bear to look at them, can’t bear to see the disdain on their faces after everything that’s happened. Instead he focuses on Alessandro, focuses on the knowledge that this is almost over, that after this he can go home to the empty townhouse he’s shared with Marko and finally break down.

  Finally when it seems as if everyone has arrived, Alessandro shuffles his papers and clears his throat meaningfully.

  “We’ve gathered here today to read the Last Will and Testament of Marko Bohdan Shvets, who was of sound body and mind at the time of its composition. All of the instructions and all of the items that are bequeathed herein were done so by his choice. First to my sister Mariya I leave the cabin by the lake where we used to spend our summers and a list of paintings and pictures that she has long coveted. To my brother Fedir I leave the contents of a safety deposit box at First National Bank with the hopes that he will act responsibly with the items enclosed inside. To my other brother Yuriy I leave…”

  Spencer’s mind drifts away without his consent, the words swirling around him without any real meaning. He is careful to keep his posture straight and his eyes fixed on Alessandro. These people scent weakness like a shark does blood, but he can’t force his mind to focus on the actual proceedings. Spencer lets himself drift until the sound of Alessandro saying his name jerks him back to reality.

  “Finally to Spencer, the son that I was lucky enough to find even so late in life, I leave the remainder of my properties and funds. It is my hope that he will continue to live the life that he should have had in the beginning. There is no one more worthy than he.”

  Spencer is stunned, his mind kicking into overdrive at what he’s just heard, and if the commotion behind him is anything to go by, he isn’t the only one either. He knows that Marko put him into his will years earlier—his presence in Alessandro’s office has only reaffirmed that idea—but he’s had no idea that it was on such a massive scale.

  It is something that has never really crossed his mind before, something he’s never had the slightest inclination to address with Marko. The older man did so much for him in life that Spencer never felt the urge to wonder ab
out what he would do for him in death.

  Spencer can hear Alessandro speaking again, his voice hard and cold as he attempts to shut down the protests concerning Spencer’s inheritance from Marko’s family members in the room. He knows that this isn’t the end of it, that they’ll try their best to contest the will and get Marko’s wishes thrown out. He isn’t worried about it, though, since he knows that Marko and Alessandro are sure to have covered all of their bases at least twice. There is no way in hell they’ll be able to have Marko’s will put aside in any court. That doesn’t mean that they’re willing to give up without trying, and their raised voices only support that thought.

  Finally the arguing grows to be too loud and vicious and no matter the amount of confidence Alessandro and Marko had tried to instill in him, Spencer finds the drive to leave the room too much to ignore. He’s up and striding out of the door almost before anyone notices him moving. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t slow down even when he hears Alessandro in the hall behind him and the raised voices of a few others following him. He’s almost running through the hallway of the law firm and in some distant way he’s aware of just how undignified he looks but he doesn’t give a damn.

  The tears that he’s been holding back for days are threatening to break free and all he wants is to make it home before that happens. He’s rounding a corner, head down and mind concentrating only on keeping his feet moving and his tears held back when he collides with a hard and startlingly warm form.

  His body, still slender and lightly muscled for all that he’s actually managed to grow another few inches, never stands a chance against the well-muscled frame he’s collided with. He gets only an impression of a richly cut suit and a luxurious maroon tie before he’s sent sprawling backwards across the floor. He clenches his eyes shut against the humiliation of landing on his ass in the middle of a law firm and it helps only in the very small sense that it stops him from breaking down into tears.

  “Spencer! Are you alright?” Alessandro’s voice is a both welcome and unwelcome since Spencer is sure that he has a small gaggle of people behind him as well. He draws a deep breath to steady his control but he keeps his eyes clenched tightly closed.

  “I’m fine, Alessandro, I just wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m afraid that I ran into this gentleman.” He gestures absently with his hand in the direction where he can feel the stranger standing. Alessandro’s strong grip circles his elbow in the next second as the older man tries to haul him upright. Spencer cooperates to the best of his abilities but he’s unsteady when he finally gains his feet. He sways a bit and his eyes snap open when a large and unfamiliarly warm palm cups his shoulder in an effort to steady him.

  His eyes immediately lock onto the stretch of tanned skin that peeks out just above the man’s collar. His mouth goes dry as he trails his gaze upwards, taking in the strong jaw covered in a light five o’clock shadow even though it’s still early afternoon. The stranger’s lips are firm and moist looking and Spencer can feel his face beginning to heat just looking at them so he jerks his gaze upwards to lock eyes with the other man.

  He can feel his own eyes widen and his face begin to rapidly lose the color it had just gained when he looks into blue eyes that he will never be able to forget. He takes a stumbling step backwards, ripping his shoulder out of the warm grip that holds it. He’s aware of colliding with Alessandro, aware of the safe and familiar hand still wrapped around his elbow.

  He whimpers before he can help himself, the sound escaping before he can bite it back and down and it forms a single word that hangs in the air in front of him.

  “Dmitri.”

  Spencer is almost ashamed of the way it comes out, like a prayer or a benediction, like he’s seventeen again and Dmitri is the only one he can see in the world. After all these years he’s still as weak as he once was when it comes to Dmitri. He’s afraid that he always will be.

  None of that actually matters. None of it means anything when those blue eyes narrow in confusion before they blow wide in astonishment.

  “Spencer?”

  Spencer does the only thing he can do, the only thing he can think of to save himself from the situation.

  He runs.

  Chapter Six

  By some rare blessing of luck Spencer manages to get out of the building and into a cab without hyperventilating. The ride back to the empty townhouse that is now irrefutably his is miraculously quiet once he makes an effort to turn off his mobile phone. He can’t stop himself from heaving a deep sigh of relief once he’s safely hidden away behind the familiar and comforting doors of his home. He locks the doors, disconnects his home phone, and turns off all of the lights before he retreats to the study and sits staring into the now cheerfully burning fireplace in silence. It’s much later in the evening, after a few too many glasses of the smooth liquor that he and Marko always enjoyed together, before he bothers to turn his mobile back on.

  He’s got almost twenty voicemails and just as many unread text messages. A few of them are from some of Marko’s more hostile relatives so he ignores those but the majority of them seem to be from Alessandro. For a moment guilt settles low in the pit of his stomach for worrying the older man, but he pushes it back down with a forcefulness that would have made Marko proud. Spencer doesn’t deny the fact that disappearing and making sure that he was unreachable was perhaps a step too far, but he finds that he’s unwilling to apologize for it. Marko worked for years to get him to understand that he had needs and rights, that he shouldn’t always be worried about others, that taking care of his needs was something that should be important to him as well.

  Spencer refuses to dishonor Marko’s memory by forgetting all of the lessons the man had taught him.

  So instead he fires off a text message to Alessandro’s phone promising to explain everything the next day before he drags himself out of the study and up to his bedroom. He passes out in a haze of alcohol and grief and the knowledge that he’s only managed to delay things for a while instead of actually getting rid of them. If his hand trails lightly across the surface of a battered old purple pillow in the process, well it’s not like there’s anyone there to see it in the first place.

  He’s jerked out of a fitful sleep early the next afternoon by the sound of his door chime. He staggers down stairs and to the front door, face unshaven, hair a tangled mass and clothes rumpled and rough worn. He’s greeted by the sight of Alessandro, all sharp lines and finely pressed suit, bearing two cups of the steaming coffee from the local café that Marko always loved and a crinkle of worried lines around his eyes.

  Spencer scrubs a long fingered hand over his face and gestures Alessandro inside with an almost absent wave of his hand as he sets off for the kitchen and the aspirin he keeps in the drawer there. The lawyer waits until they’re both seated, pills swallowed and coffee half drained before he speaks.

  “When Marko showed up with you all of those years ago, I was skeptical at first. I was convinced that you were nothing more than some two-bit little con-artist dead set on taking him to the cleaners. We fought horribly over you in those first months, as I’m sure you could tell, but for all of my insistence and insults he never once budged on the issue. All he would ever tell me was that you were a good man—yes even then he considered you a man in many ways—and that he intended to make you into a great one. I asked him once to tell me what had happened to you, to tell me about the day that he’d found you. He got this cold and distant look in his eyes and all he would say to me was that you’d been the unfortunate victim in a horrible game.”

  Alessandro breaks off to take a long drink from his cooling coffee and when he looks up Spencer is surprised by the depths of emotion in the older man’s eyes when their gazes collide.

  “There was just something in the way that he said those words, something in the way that he looked that kept me from pushing the issue after that. In all of our years of friendship both before and since that moment I’d never seen him so furious about something.
Not even when he disowned his youngest brother decades ago. Now I hope that you know that my feelings towards you have changed drastically over the years and I hope that you look on me in the same fond light that I do you. That being said, I feel as if the responsibility to keep you safe falls to me now that Marko is…no longer with us.” The words are said quietly, almost hesitantly, and so at odds with the confident swagger that Alessandro normally wraps around himself like a well-tailored suit.

  Even though he’s more than capable of taking care of himself now, something inside of Spencer melts just a bit at the lawyer’s words. He is truly lucky to have met not only Marko but Alessandro as well, and he knows in that moment that the other man deserves the whole story. Mind made up, Spencer takes a deep bracing breath, grips his cooling coffee tightly in his hand and begins to speak.

  “My mother was a parent in name only really, and I never knew my father. I practically raised myself until I was nine and I met,” his tongue trips on the name for a moment, “Dmitri. He found me outside my apartment one afternoon with a bloody nose and out of the blue he just took me over. To this day I still don’t know what he was doing there in my part of town, so far away from everything he knew. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really cared, I just know that he saved me that day, gave me someone to hold onto, someone to focus on. He called me Spence instead of Spencer, picked me up and took me home with him like I was a stray dog off the streets.”

  Spencer rakes a hand through his already tousled hair and barks out a harsh and bitter laugh that has Alessandro looking at his strangely. He ignores it, too focused on telling his story for only the second time in his life to let it distract him. There’s so much he wants to say but he doesn’t have the words for it so instead he sticks to the basics, a rough outline of his years with Dmitri.

  “Needless to say his parents didn’t approve, hell nobody he knew did, and as for me, well I don’t think my mother would have noticed if I didn’t come home one day, much less the fact that I was virtually owned by a twelve year old. So he took me home, cleaned me up, fed me and sent me back home like it was the most natural thing in the world. The strange part was that he showed up and did it all over again the next day and the next and it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It wasn’t long before he started telling me what to do. Small stuff at first, like to follow him or to shut up, or to fix my hair. He even gave me his old clothes and walked me to school, so I figured that the least I could do was wait for him outside his private school in the afternoon or just follow his little orders without complaint. In all honesty, I loved it.”