"Aren't you just sunshine and roses?" I said, feeling snarky. "Seeing as this is all your fault you could at least be cheerier."
Jonathan sat down and sighed. "It's not all my fault. My father died close to a year ago, leaving his estate to me and my brother but only under certain conditions."
"Conditions?"
"Yes, conditions. My father was what people politely call eccentric. He got it into his head that simply inheriting his wealth would be too easy. He had this castle built and said we had to live in it for a year. If we both stayed the entire year we each would receive half his estate. However, if one of us fled before the year was up the brother who remained would receive everything. If both of us fled then my father's entire estate would be given to charity."
"But ... why? Why would he want one of you to run the other off? "
Jonathan shook his head. "I do not believe my father was entirely sane toward the end, but what I believe doesn't matter. We challenged the will, but the courts upheld it and so for the past 11 months my brother and I have tried to survive this prison without going insane, a battle which I fear Franklin lost long ago. Last month he hired a girl to come to the door, pretend to be in distress, all in an effort to trap me."
I frowned. "Trap you? What do you mean, trap you?"
"I mean, he paid her to pretend to be in distress and then drug me and drag me outside the castle gates so that I would forfeit my share of my father's inheritance."
"But you didn't fall for it?"
He scowled at me. "No. I did not. But that's why I thought you were working for Franklin. I thought he hired you, just like he hired the other girl."
I nodded and swallowed. "What ... what happened to her? Franklin said he had killed before, that there were others, other girls." I was pretty sure I didn't want to know the answer, but I couldn't not know.
Jonathan looked down and nodded. He sighed. "Franklin killed her. At first I thought it had been an accident." Jonathan closed his eyes and shook his head. "I should have known better. "When he was young, one of his girlfriends went missing. My family hushed it up, I was at boarding school, but I always suspected there was more to the girl's disappearance than my family let on."
"You mean ... your parents covered up that he was a murderer?" I said, shocked.
Jonathan nodded. "Please don't think poorly of my parents. My mother would have done anything for her children. Anything. She couldn't bear to think of Franklin locked up."
"Even if he should have been?"
Jonathan flushed. "Yes. Even if he should have been."
We sat in silence a moment. "There's still something I don't understand. If he kills you, he won't have won and he'll still get only half your father's money, rather than all of it."
"No," Jonathan said.
"No?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"Ummm. And why would that be? And, please, use more than one syllable."
Jonathan signed and ran a hand through his hair. I took some consolation in the fact that it looked almost as bad as mine. "It's because I'm an idiot. I should have made a will before I entered this damn castle, one which left everything I had to charity. As it stands, if I die he'll get everything since he's my only surviving relative."
I raised my eyebrows at him in silent agreement of his assessment of his mental faculties.
"It never occurred to me that he'd try to kill me. I mean, we're family."
I sighed. I guess I could understand.
Jonathan turned and looked at me for a few heartbeats, studying me. "You really had no idea, you just landed in the midst of this insanity, this contest of wills between he and I." He regarded me for a moment longer and I felt the weight of his gaze. "I am truly sorry."
My cheeks felt tingly.
"Well, that's that, then," Jonathan said, sighing. "I guess if I have to die I'm glad to have your company."
I laughed, the tension making the sound explode out of me. "Thanks. I think."
He reached for me then and took my hand in his. "Not that I want you to die, of course," he said, his mouth twisted into a rye half-smile.
I raised one of my eyebrows at him and grinned. "Of course," I said, and went to sit beside him.
Absently running a lock of my hair through his fingers he said, "May I say that you seem to be taking our impending demise rather well?"
"You may, but as I've told you all along, we aren't going to die. My father will find me."
Resting a palm across my forehead he said, "Nope, no fever."
I pursed my lips together and glared at him. "I am not delusional. Both my car and my phone send GPS signals, my Dad knows this and he'll use the information to track me down. He's probably on his way now."
"Your dad. You know how crazy that sounds? It's nice to have a high view of your father and his abilities but he's not superman. Without the police helping there isn't much he can do."
Finally giving in to irritation, I folded my arms across my chest and glared at Jonathan. "My father is Dario Romano," I said and squinted into his eyes for any hint of recognition.
"I take it that name is supposed to mean something to me," he said, nonplussed.
"Let's just say that my father is to convention centers what Tony Soprano is to sanitation."
Jonathan raised his eyebrows at me, "Tony Soprano is a fictional mob boss."
I leveled my gaze at him. "Well, my father isn't fictional."
Jonathan was stunned for a moment, "So you're ..." His eyes had gone wide. "And you're just mentioning this now?"
"Well, I didn't want to scare you," I said defensively. "When I tell people about my family connections they either treat me like a leper or suddenly want to be my best friend."
If I sprouted a third eye I don't think Jonathan could have looked more stunned.
"So I guess you'll want me to tell my father that you had nothing to do with drugging and kidnapping me, huh," I grinned at him, barely suppressing a giggle.
"Why you little ...," he began, and didn't finish until much, much, later.
* * * *
That was two years ago and Jonathan and I are still together. Now instead of nagging me to 'bring home a nice boy' Dad keeps asking when Jonathan and I are going to tie the knot. I'm glad Dad likes him.
In case you're wondering, Franklin managed to escape. I guess when scary looking men with guns assaulted the house he saw the writing on the wall. We never heard from him again, but there was a news report of a juicy thigh bone found in the hills west of there with human teeth marks in it. Maybe the Anderson's got him.
A girl can hope.
-- The End --
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