by Wolfe, H. M.
"What about the other list? Why don't you have that? It should have been in the retard's room, too," Carter spoke coldly, irritated that a nobody, like the man standing in front of him, dared to point out the mistakes he'd made and throw them in his face.
"No, it isn't, the pest must've given it to that guy. If so, getting it back will be mission impossible," Sydney shook his head, frustrated.
"What guy?" Carter asked, his patience wearing thinner with each minute he spent in the other man's company.
"A wise guy from Windsor Terrace. He's the owner of a bar with a fancy name. He runs the family business, using the bar as a cover. Colin Rafferty is the guy's name."
"I don't care how big of a gangster this man is, if he's an obstacle, I will get him my way. Now if you'll excuse me, Sydney, I have some other pressing matters to attend. See you next time."
After parting ways with his associate, Carter headed to the house he had rented for three months. Although he had hoped his stay in New York would be a short one. The man took a deep breath, thinking about the difficult situation he had landed in.
Ezra ran again before Carter could break him, Elliott Spellmann seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth, and now he would have to deal with a hot-shot Irish gangster who had the other half of his precious list.
Lost in his thoughts, Carter didn't notice the kid coming from the opposite direction until it was too late. The two of them bumped into each other. The young man fell to the ground but, instead of getting up, he started to pat the asphalt around him desperately.
"What's wrong, kiddo, what are you looking for?", Carter said, grabbing his arm and tried to help him get to his feet. "You should pay more attention. Otherwise, you could hurt someone. What's wrong with you, are you blind?"
"Yes, actually he is, and you are an insensitive bastard," a redheaded young man spoke, shooting daggers in Carter's direction. "Are you all right, Dar-Dar?" he said gently, picking up a white walking stick from the sidewalk and wrapping an arm around the other young man's shoulders.
A cruel smile formed on Carter's lips, as he looked at how the two became lost in the crowd. The blind young man was fascinating. Extremely beautiful, with a fragile physique and vulnerable. Exactly how he liked them. Hunting him was going to fun, Carter thought, rubbing his hands together in a gesture of satisfaction
CHAPTER 20
Eugene laid in bed, propped on one elbow, looking at Elliott's sleeping form with a bright smile on his face. The blond was facing him, one hand under his head and the other resting relaxed between the two of them. It was Monday morning, the start of another busy week at the law firm, and Elliott needed all the sleep he could get. Especially after the previous night's heated, intense sex.
A rebel curl fell on the blond's face, making him scrunch his nose. Eugene removed it with a delicate gesture, tucking it behind the young man's ear. There was still half an hour left until Elliott had to wake up, and young Brentano decided to use it the same way he had over the past month, contemplating the sleeping beauty and letting his thoughts run freely.
His mother must have woken up by then. She was most likely in the kitchen, doing breakfast for her two sons as she proudly proclaimed. After the unfortunate incident on the day she and Claudio had arrived in New York, Donna Rosa had taken Elliott under her wing and into her warm, loving heart. As for the consigliere, he did everything in his power to win the blond's forgiveness for treating him so cruelly, that day.
Brentano senior showered Elliott with fatherly affection, ready to do whatever he might ask. When the blond expressed his interest in Mafia politics, hierarchy and history, the former consigliere became the most dedicated and patient professor ever. His efforts paid off quickly, as Elliott was a very fast learner.
Eugene sighed, as his thoughts took another, not so pleasant, turn. According to his father, Don Antonio Moretti's health had deteriorated significantly over the past few months, so he had appointed his grandson Luca as successor. The kid was only in his early twenties and didn't seem very thrilled at the idea. But since being the only living male relative of the old don, he didn't have much of a choice.
”Good morning, stranger danger,” a sleepy Elliott said, looking at Eugene with his beautiful, sky-blue eyes. ”What were you thinking about?” he continued, stretching under the blankets with feline grace.
"You, what else do you think?" young Brentano continued, pecking the blond's lips. "Will you join me for a quick shower?"
"Mmmhhhmmmm, sounds very tempting," Elliott purred, eyes half closed. "No hanky-panky, though, or else we'll be late for breakfast, and Mamma Rosa will unleash hell on our sorry asses," he felt the need to add, feigning horror.
”OK, I promise to keep my hands away from your round, sweet, sexy, tempting ass,” Eugene grinned.
Half an hour, a hot shower and several passionate kisses later, the two men went down to the kitchen, where donna Rosa greeted them as usual, her face lightened by a broad smile.
"Good morning, ragazzi! Hurry up. The food is getting cold." After carefully examining Elliott's face, she shook her head. "You don't look so well, caro mio. Are you sick?"
"No, mamma, he is not, trust me, I take good care of him," Eugene answered, while the blond dug into the food, enjoying every bit of it.
"So, boys, what are you going to do today?" Brentano senior asked, putting aside the paper he'd just finished reading.
"Well, nothing interesting for me," Eugene said, "just the usual, a board meeting at noon and the presentation of the monthly report. After that, I am going to call Vottorio about this whole Moretti situation."
Claudio nodded. "Yes, it's the right thing to do. If young Luca doesn't want to be the next Moretti don, no one can make him. What about you, Elliott? What's your plans for today, figliolo?" he said in a warm, affectionate voice.
"Well, Mallory and I thought about it, and we decided to hire a second assistant since poor Miss Gloria is overwhelmed with tasks. The new assistant will be working for me, while Mallory, as the senior partner, will have Miss Gloria just for him. I'll be interviewing a candidate for the position this very morning, so I have to go." Elliott smiled, kissing Donna Rosa on the cheek. "Grazie, mammina, the food was delicious, as always."
Taking his briefcase, the blond waved goodbye to the three Brentanos and got in the car, and started driving to the office. All the way to there, a small smile played on his lips, while thinking about how lucky he was, surrounded by the love of the family and friends he had longed so much for.
Elliott also thought about Mallory and how much his best friend had changed over the last few weeks since he'd become a senior partner at Ashburn &Spellmann, the new name of the law firm. His self-esteem and confidence had increased considerably. It made him no longer accepting of his parents' and siblings' tyranny and poor treatment.
After a significant argument with all of them, he'd moved into Elliott's house, to Christine's delight, because she wasn't alone anymore. However, this wasn't the only change that occurred in Mallory. The blond often surprised him smiling, with a dreamy look in his beautiful brown eyes. Elliott suspected his friend had someone, but when asked, the said friend vehemently denied it.
After parking and locking his car, the blond entered the building, with the small smile still playing on his lips. On the way to his office, he ran into Richard Benard, almost knocking him down. The other lawyer had a confused expression on his face.
"Morning, boss, are you all right? You don't look very well this morning."
"Richie Benard, the right man at the right time and place," Elliott smirked. "Would you please accompany me to my office? I want to talk to you about something."
”Sure, boss,” the other man said, not knowing what to expect, as the blond was the most unpredictable of the two associates.
Over the weeks since he and Mallory took over the office, Benard came to admire Elliott. His sharp instincts, sound judgment and the smart way he outwitted his opponents in and out of the co
urt.
"Well, Richie, I must confess I am pleasantly impressed with how you put that bitchy attitude of yours to use," Elliott said, satisfaction noticeable in his voice. "That is why Mallory and I have decided to give you more cases. Divorce cases, I mean, because you do wonders with them."
"I... I don't know what to say. I mean, thank you, Mister Spellmann," Benard stuttered, overjoyed. Ever since he graduated law school, he knew family law was his field, but his uncle insisted otherwise. "I won't disappoint you. I will work harder than ever, I..."
"I get the idea, Richie, move your sexy behind and get to work," Elliott said, amused. "One more thing. Would you be so kind and tell the gentleman who applied for the position of assistant to step inside?"
"Of course, boss," Benard replied. "Mister Spellmann is waiting for you, sir," he said to the man waiting outside the office. After studying him for a moment, the young lawyer continued. "You and he will get along just fine, trust me."
When the man stepped into the office, slightly limping, he couldn't suppress a gasp of surprise at the sight of the young man in front of him. On one hand, he didn't expect the principal associate in a law firm that big, to be a boy in his early teens, like the one in front of him.
On the other hand, there was a shocking resemblance between the said boy and his dearly departed husband's best friend. He was a quiet, shy young man with big blue eyes and a passion for mathematics. Tarquin Ballard, that was his name.
"Please, take a seat, Mister... Van Sloot? Did I pronounce it correctly?" Elliott said, examining the man head to toe.
"Yes, you did, Mister Spellmann," he replied, sitting in the chair the blond indicated. "Joraan Van Sloot," the man added, extending his hand.
"Nice to meet you. So, let's see..." Elliott started to look over his resume, a little disappointed. The man didn't have any references and no experience as a lawyer's assistant. However, as he read, the blond became more and more convinced that he needed to search no longer, Joraan Van Sloot was perfect for the job.
"You know, when I started to read your resume, I was sure that I'd have to take one more interview, but I was very wrong. You're exactly what I'm looking for. Congratulations, Mister Van Sloot, welcome to the team." Elliott smiled brightly, shaking Joraan's hand.
"Thank you, Mister Spellmann, I will do my best, and I promise you won't regret your decision. Tell me please, sir, what was it that made you decide to hire me?" There was a tinge of curiosity in the older man's voice he didn't make any effort to hide.
”Well, you were the underdog here, the one who was seemingly not qualified for the job. But I believe in underdogs, as I was one too, until not long ago. Besides, someone who worked for the US Embassy in Pretoria is more than suitable as my assistant,” Elliott said, slightly bowing his head as a sign of respect.
"I should get ready to take over my new job, then. One more thing before I go. Do you happen to know a certain Tarquin Ballard?"
"Of course I do, he's a great guy — a happily married, father of three. We are about the same age. Why do you ask?
"He's already gotten married? At this young age? Oh, sorry, Mister Spellmann, I didn't intend to..."
"Don't worry, Mister Van Sloot, no offense taken! Yes, Tarquin is married to one of the most loving, understanding, caring guys on the face of the earth. He and Daniel were made for each other," Elliott answered.
"Daniel? Nice name," Joraan said, in a somewhat melancholic tone. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
When he left the office, the new personal assistant had tears in his eyes. As they ran down his cheeks, he prayed for his long-lost adoptive son. He hoped that he was happy somewhere in the arms of someone who loves and is loved by him.
**********
"OK, folks, lunch break, see you in about an hour. As always, I don't go anywhere until I examine every one of you, so there's no point in jumping down each other's throat in my absence. Those of you who have jobs to go to are the first to be examined. And there are, of course, the emergencies." Rayne sighed, as he looked to the multitude of people waiting in front of his small office.
All the patients nodded in understanding, but the doctor still felt like he was letting them down. There were so many of them, the health issues so serious in most of the cases, and he was just one person. He fought against the odds, sometimes to save a life from death's clutches, sometimes only to postpone it.
Feeling helpless and powerless was one of the things Rayne hated the most. Sometimes the things he witnessed on an everyday basis made him want to run and never look back, but he couldn't, it was not the kind of inheritance Rayne would have left to Gerrard. It was not how he wanted to be remembered by his son.
At thirty-three, with his stunningly beautiful emerald eyes and red hair, Rayne Calhoun was a very handsome man, one a lot of women and men dreamed about having as a life partner. But he didn't believe in marriage. Not anymore. Not since his husband, the reputable professor and medical researcher Conroy Winters, had chased him out of the house they had shared for the past seven years.
It was his house, too, Rayne thought with bitterness, remembering how he'd slaved in the lab day and nights — conducting experiments, writing conclusions, double- and triple- checking every result. Doing everything all over again when something went wrong. All that time, his dear husband was holding press conferences, going to prestigious medical conferences or doing interviews, taking all the credits for Rayne's work.
But he didn't care, not as long he had Gerrard, not as long as he could spend some quality time in the company of his son. Conroy insisted on sending the boy to a boarding school, implying that Rayne was too busy with his career to take care of him properly. He proved his husband wrong though, visiting Gerrard as often as he could.
Alastair Stark was a name that inspired admiration, respect, and sometimes envy. But for Rayne, it was the name of a man who rejected the woman he had a one night stand with. The woman whose virginity he took, leaving her pregnant. The same man whose courage was praised by everyone, acting like a coward and turning his back on his unborn child out of fear of losing his wealthy, aristocratic husband.
No, Gerrard would not remember his father as a coward who walked away, turning his back when the boy needed him the most, Rayne said to himself, as he crossed the street, heading to the food truck from where he bought a frugal, but tasty lunch. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the two teenagers waiting for the ice cream vendor to hand them the cones they'd ordered, then the car heading straight in their direction.
To his great horror, Rayne saw how one of the men in the car pulled a gun, aiming at one of the teens and started to shoot. In just a few seconds, the kid fell to the ground. It all happened so fast that none of the people present at the scene had time to react, except for Rayne. He ran to the fallen kid as hard as he could, dispersing the people gathered around.
"I'm a doctor, please, let me look at him," he said, pushing through the mob. "Make more room. He needs to breathe! Come on people, let me do my job!"
"Is he badly hurt?" a shaky voice asked. Rayne looked at the possessor of the voice, a kid slightly younger than the one who was wounded. "Is he going to... die?"
"No, if you can keep yourself together and help me to carry your friend here to my clinic. Also, please put that expensive phone of yours to good use and call an ambulance like you should've done in the first place."
"I'll call my brother, he'll know what to do," the kid answered, squeezing his eyes shut and hissing between his teeth. "Don't worry about me, doc, just take care of Arnett," he continued.
Rayne nodded, taking the wounded teenager in his arms and carrying him to the clinic. Suddenly, he realized the other boy was also injured, but for some reason, he preferred to hide it. When they finally arrived at the clinic, the blue-eyed boy collapsed on the bed, near his friend, and Rayne could see he was hit in the thigh, but fortunately, the wound was superficial.
The other one, however, was badly hurt and had lost a lot of blood. In
spite of this, however, he breathed evenly and hadn’t lost consciousness. After properly cleaning the wound, Rayne took a better look at it, and what he saw gave him chills up his spine.
"Hey, kid," he spoke to the other boy, "how well you know him?" he gestured in Arnett's direction.
But the boy didn't seem to hear him, busy as he was tapping on his phone. After a while, he finally spoke. "Arnett is my best friend. We 'kinda grew up together. Sorry, I didn't answer, I was busy texting my brother and great-uncle.
"Very good," Rayne spoke, giving the teenager a bright smile. "Can you tell me, now that your friend is all taken care of, what is your name? And why didn't you tell me about your wound?"
"I didn't want to worry Arnett, that's why. And sorry about not introducing myself earlier. My name is Hayden Bloom, my brother's name is Daniel, and my great-uncle is Alastair Stark", the kid said, looking at Rayne with his intense blue eyes.
Alastair Stark, the man thought bitterly. It seems that he was making a habit of abandoning the relatives who needed him the most. A habit he’d passed on to the teen's brother, Daniel Bloom, another soulless bastard.