Chapter 3

Three

Growing up in the Olympia had lots of obvious perks, but Jonathon admired and appreciated the old place like a beloved relative and liked to think he knew most of her secrets. Probably because he didn't have many other relatives aside from Muriel and the historic and iconic apartment building had been Jonathon's closest companion as a child.

He had crept around its elegant hallways and had hidden in its alcoves and abandoned stairwells, eavesdropping or pretending to be a French spy or a stowaway on the Nile. Those years of silly subterfuge and Jonathon's intimate knowledge of Muriel's habits and her routine had come to his rescue when he snuck out of 8B and into 6A just before dawn.

Jonathon had taken a fire escape from the 8th floor and slipped through his bathroom window. There had been no need to rush because Muriel slept as hard as a log and snored as loud as a chainsaw. Thankfully, Muriel's standard poodle, Calista, was useless as a guard dog, her snores nearly as loud as her mistress's. Jonathon had kept his bedroom door cracked so he could listen as he packed everything he'd need and carefully pushed the tall bookshelf in front of the closet, hiding his secret studio.

He wouldn't put it past Muriel to use his absence as an excuse to snoop for clues. She liked to think of herself as an amateur sleuth and had often enlisted Jonathon in her batty schemes. Humoring her had been half self-preservation and half entertainment because there was no predicting what Muriel would come up with next. Her schemes were guaranteed to either dazzle or backfire in the most ridiculous manner, which suited Jonathon as he was on a mission to make an utter jackass out of himself whenever possible.

Before he disappeared again, Jonathon left his phone and a note to Muriel in the foyer for Tilly, the housekeeper, to find. He promised them he was fine and would explain everything later. He had also apologized and begged Muriel not to worry. Jonathon knew he owed her as much, after years of supporting him and keeping a comfortable roof over his head.

Muriel had stepped into the middle of his parents' very messy divorce after it was revealed that Jonathon's father had embezzled and lost millions. She had offered to bail the family out of their financial predicament in exchange for guardianship of Jonathon. Neither of Jonathon's parents wanted to be stuck with a mopey eight-year-old and were happy to hand him over.

Jonathon had imagined all sorts of terrible scenarios, including grueling hours of scrubbing floors and cleaning chimneys. But it turned out that Muriel had simply been lonely, and possibly concerned about the fate of her youngest relative. Muriel was actually his mother's aunt and had only known of Jonathon's existence from holiday cards and family pictures before he was delivered to the Olympia, along with his luggage and painting supplies.

"You, come and sit over here and help me with this cake," she had ordered when he first peeked into her sitting room, waving at a cart bearing a tea service, a two-tiered Black Forest cake, and finger sandwiches. "And do try to be more interesting than your parents. You've already cost me an ungodly amount of money."

"Yes, ma'am," Jonathon had mumbled, hurrying to join her on the sofa.

"Aunt Muriel will do," she informed him and gestured for Jonathon to serve himself. "Tell me: do you have any talents or an aptitude for any particular subject?" she had asked, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in for a closer look.

"I…I like to read and I paint," he managed.

"Too many people read," Muriel complained with an impatient sniff. "Are you any good with your painting?"

Jonathon nodded jerkily. "I think so." He had hoped so. His teachers at school seemed to think he had promise and he had won a few awards.

"We'll see," Muriel replied with a humph. "I'll hire someone and they can sort you out or tell me which school to send you to if you're any good."

It turned out that Jonathon was very good. And thanks to Muriel's support and influence, Jonathon had attended Townsend Harris for high school and an internship at MOMA. He had been accepted into the Royal College of Art and was headed to London after their month in Austria. Before she became fixated on finding Jonathon a husband, Muriel had kept an eye out for renowned artists Jonathon could learn from as they traveled across Europe.

Jonathon was supposed to have a tutor while he was at Sch?nbühel, but the gentleman had canceled at the last minute to have emergency eye surgery. At the time, Jonathon had been glad for the chance to study and create on his own. Everything he had touched in his efforts to get accepted into the Royal College had been created through nerve-wracking deliberation and then scrutinized and analyzed until he couldn't stand to look at his work.

In hindsight, Jonathon would have been better served and his life would have followed a very different path if he had spent the month with an elderly artist instead of allowing Leo to bend him over every sofa and flat surface in Sch?nbühel.

Muriel, bless her heart, had been utterly oblivious and distracted with her own schemes. She had believed that Jonathon was too young to be interested in sex or looking for a husband, and too focused on painting to be tempted by a man like Leo. And she probably assumed that Jonathon was too young and unsophisticated to attract Leo's attention.

She usually waited for Jonathon's help down to breakfast and he often joined her for a short ramble in the garden when the weather was mild. But Muriel preferred to spend her days sitting under a blanket by the fire in the music room, reading a sexy romance or a mystery novel. They regularly traded books but she would shoo Jonathon away to go paint or read, knowing he preferred to sit or work in the sun.

But after Sch?nbühel, Jonathon had lost much of his passion for painting. His art had become more of a quiet refuge and his secret studio a place to meditate. Muriel didn't know about the odd little door in Jonathon's closet. It had been boarded and painted over, practically begging Jonathon to investigate when he first took possession of the room at the end of the hall.

A small landing and a set of stairs was hidden behind the door—a dingy, dusty New York Narnia. Prior to a remodel in the 1920's, it had been a servants' stairwell that used to go to the kitchen in the apartment downstairs. Now, portraits of Jonathon filled the forgotten stairwell—his fortress of decrepitude.

He had told Muriel that he'd given up painting, making it one more thing he wasn't ready to explain, so he had covered the closet door. She hadn't seen his bedroom in years and had no idea what was in most of the apartment's other rooms. With the exception of their daily walks with Calista, Muriel rarely ventured out of her own suite and the sitting room off the kitchen when they were home.

An heiress of a shipping empire and a widow of a semi-infamous financier, Muriel was dedicated to her routine and swore that consistency was the key to a long life. Her days were spent reading and napping, and in the evenings, Muriel went to formal dinner parties, galas, the opera, or the ballet. Her days had followed a similar pattern at Sch?nbühel and while the parties were far smaller and there were less operas and ballets to attend, they dressed for dinner and met for cocktails in the larger sitting room.

Jonathon had grown accustomed to Muriel's lifestyle and had attended several formal events at her side, but he was still intimidated by Leo's and Sabine's effortless grace and glamor. Both talked and carried themselves like aristocrats and dressed impeccably. The soon-to-be Margrave always wore a suit and tie, often selecting gray, brown, and dark green tweeds for the day and sleek black or dark gray for dinner. Sabine managed to make her white, fitted shirts and black pencil skirts chic and was a knockout in a simple sheath dress.

At first, Jonathon assumed they were a couple, but a brisk "debate" their second morning had put that notion to rest.

"I'm the one who wrote the initiative and assembled the team to present it," Leo had said, his tone hard and clipped as he strode into the dining room with Sabine on his heels. "I should be there but I'm stranded here for the month. I'm checking in every few hours whether you like it or not," he told her with quick nods for Muriel and Jonathon who were already seated and sipping their coffees.

"But, Leo—dearest—we promised the Foundation and your doctors that you would rest. As your assistant, I must insist—" Sabine attempted, then reared back when he turned and raised a brow, his expression severe.

"Ah ah!" he clicked his teeth and wagged a finger. "It is not your place to insist, as my assistant, is it?" he asked, causing her to blush and duck her head while Jonathon and Muriel exchanged wide-eyed looks.

"Of course, not. But it is my job to assist with your daily affairs and mind your health and safety," Sabine reminded him delicately, then cleared her throat. "We both know I don't give a damn about the Foundation. You need them if you want to save the world and you can't do that if you have a stroke or a heart attack or a mental crisis or worse ," she added a touch more sternly.

"Fine," Leo said, weary as he began preparing his plate at the sideboard. "I have compromised by being here, haven't I? And a compromise requires the other party to adjust their expectations, does it not?" he asked while smacking bits of melon and cheese onto his plate. "The Foundation won't like me if I start running around the castle with an ax yelling ‘here's Leo!'"

A giggle chirped from Jonathon and he quickly smothered it with his napkin, pretending to cough.

"Why would you—?" Sabine frowned at Leo, giving her head a quick shake. "You would never."

"Of course, not," Leo said as he carried his plate to the table and sat. "Unless we get snowed in," he added with a wink at Jonathon, startling him, but he smiled back and offered Leo a discreet wave.

"Whatever are you talking about, dearest?" Sabine asked him, then stopped to tell the butler how Leo took his eggs and to enquire about dinner. "Don't let the housekeeper forget that she'll need to include vegetarian options. Mr. von Hessen doesn't eat meat," she whispered, earning a faint nod.

"The cook will be preparing a light mushroom soup, cucumber salad, and ratatouille for Mr. von Hessen, and there will be an apple tart for dessert."

"Very good," Sabine said with a nod, dismissing him. "Perhaps a tour of the gardens or a hike?" she suggested as she sat next to Leo.

Muriel sat forward in her seat. "Jonathon and I were planning to take a walk in the garden after breakfast. You're welcome to join us."

There was the slightest twisting of Leo's features before he offered her a polite smile. "Probably not. I might hike—" He was interrupted by a crack of thunder.

"Looks like I'll be spending my day in the music room with that mystery Jonathon insists I read," Muriel decided with a humph at the windows.

"Good idea," Jonathon said as he raised his coffee at her. "Think I'll check out the conservatory. Should be gorgeously moody in there," he predicted and Muriel hummed in approval.

"You'll love that. The dowager archduchess was fond of roses and there used to be an impressive variety here."

"Are you fond of roses?" Leo asked Jonathon.

"I am," he replied, suddenly self-conscious as Leo studied him. Jonathon rubbed his chin against his shoulder, blushing. "They remind me of fairy tales and mythology. I noted that roses are in numerous Grimms' tales and they're associated with Aphrodite's love for Adonis. They were her symbol."

"The white rose, I believe," Leo said and Jonathon nodded.

He opened his mouth to ask if Leo would like to explore the conservatory with him when Sabine made a vague, dismissive sound and tapped Leo's arm as it rested on the table.

"That's lovely. I have to leave for Vienna in an hour and won't be back until later, but I want to show you how to log into your email here. Andreas will be emailing updates so you don't have to call as often."

This time, Leo didn't hide his grimace. "It's quicker just to call instead of trying to remember passwords and logging in and checking."

She hummed knowingly. "Be that as it may, the rest of us would prefer to handle it in an email. It also helps to have things in writing. Unless it's the sort of thing you don't want in writing. In that case, handle it face-to-face when you're sure no one's listening," she advised Leo with a saucy grin.

"When would I have the time for that sort of thing?" Leo returned, shaking his head. "That's why I need an assistant," he told Jonathon and Muriel. "She manages my emails and web things because I don't trust technology."

Sabine made a weary sound. "It's true. Leo still uses a Blackberry and wants to call everyone like it's the ‘90s. We're about to confiscate it, thank goodness. He'll get all new devices and private accounts as soon as he's officially Margrave and it will make my life so much easier."

"Smartphones are pure evil, mark my words," he said, causing Sabine to sigh and roll her eyes.

"Seriously, Leo. Wielding axes and evil phones? Did you take something before you came downstairs?"

He slid Jonathon a flat look. "Do you know anyone who doesn't have one of these ‘smart' phones?" he asked and Jonathon didn't hesitate to shake his head. "Exactly," Leo drawled, turning his attention back to Sabine. "Nearly every person on the planet has one now and is being conditioned to ‘upgrade' every few years without ever considering who's making all these phones and the damage that's being done to the planet to produce them. In a few years, we'll believe that even children need them and that books are obsolete and a waste of space, despite the millions of outdated smartphones cluttering landfills and leaching chemicals into our soil and drinking water." He took a deep breath, as if he needed to reset, then stabbed a berry with his fork and ate it petulantly.

A long silence followed. Both Muriel and Jonathon blinked at him and Sabine nodded faintly as if she'd heard his rant before and was more concerned with her tea. She sipped and sniffed at it, her nose wrinkling as she stared into her cup.

"I say, was this made yesterday? It's practically tepid and…" She shuddered and held it up as a footman hurried over. "Bland. Tastes like it was made from the dregs of an old pot."

The butler jumped and flinched but recovered quickly, striding to the tray on the sideboard. "Apologies, Frau Aigner. I will have a fresh pot prepared immediately," he said in a low murmur, then rushed from the room.

Leo's tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek as he watched. He shook his head at her, cutting his eyes. "This will always mystify me: you'd rather harass a butler and behave like an entitled brat. Simply admit that you can't enjoy a cup of tea unless you know the pot was brewed just for you. You aren't fooling anyone and the end result is the same, Sabine."

"Perhaps," she said with a wide, sweet smile. "And perhaps you'll stop dragging that soapbox behind you and making us all feel guilty for having phones, of all things. You cannot save the world if no one can see or hear you and they stopped using Morse code and the telegraph a while ago, I'm afraid."

They shared strained sarcastic laughs, rolling their eyes at each other and there was another long pause.

Jonathon cleared his throat, hoping to lighten the mood. "I don't think I've ever stopped to think about how bad smartphones are for the planet and I hope we can do something to mitigate all the damage. But I think they do have the potential to bring a great amount of beauty into the world and put art into the hands of people who wouldn't have experienced it before," he mused quietly. "The creative mind can turn a single post into a canvas and a page into an entire gallery that anyone around the world can experience without having to leave their home. And anyone with a phone can visit virtual galleries and museums. More and more of our great institutions are using smartphones to make exhibits more accessible and that can't be bad. Imagine a child in Kansas ‘visiting' the Louvre," he said with a soft laugh. "I think that's wonderful, actually."

"It is," Leo said as he bowed his head, smiling thoughtfully. "I rarely consider how they can be used for good. I will the next time I find myself worrying over them."

"Brilliant!" Sabine replied, settling the matter. "We are no longer all monsters for having phones because they can make art ," she said with a great deal of condescension.

Leo's expression suggested that he thought she might still be a monster.

Of course, the very first thing Jonathon and Muriel discussed once they had reached the music room was the fact that Leo and Sabine definitely were not a couple.

"I don't think he likes her much at all, the more and more we see of them," Muriel whispered excitedly.

Jonathon cringed, shaking his head. "Neither do I."

"Which is all the better for us," she declared, making him laugh.

"I don't see how."

She smirked, her eyes twinkling. "I'd much rather see them bicker and get on each other's nerves than witness another boring affair.

"I see…" Jonathon had replied, agreeing in the moment.

But they all would have been better off if Leo and Sabine had been hiding an affair. Like the tutor, the entire trajectory of Jonathon's life could have been different if both he and Leo had better distractions while at Sch?nbühel.

Jonathon had stopped looking for Leo's name in headlines and articles after Austria's mysterious new margrave was rumored to be courting a famous Austrian model and philanthropist. He'd told himself that looking and knowing would only make it hurt worse. Then, Jonathon set out to get his revenge by rubbing it all—their lost love, Leo's betrayal, Jonathon's heartbreak—in Leo's face.

Somehow, Leo hadn't noticed or he hadn't cared and Jonathon was realizing that he'd been suffering in silence, for all his antics were worth. Leo believed they could greet each other like friends, unaware of the massive crater he'd left in Jonathon's life. That had been worse than a slap in the face or being laughed at. It meant that Leo believed himself forgiven and Jonathon had been forgotten.

He felt even more defeated and lost as he silently scaled the fire escape with a large duffle bag on his back and tiptoed into Milo Ashby's room from the balcony. He'd known that their secret affair would come out at some point. He would have eventually snapped, Muriel would have finally found a clue and put the pieces together, or he'd cross paths with Leo and drama would ensue. Jonathon had planned glorious speeches—only to choke—but he had never thought about what happened after the truth came out and he was finally free.

His old life was over. There was no longer any point in living an extravagant lie for likes online and to get Leo's attention. Muriel would probably forgive Jonathon in time but she would never try to marry him off again. No man worthy of her notice would want Jonathon after he'd proven that he was not only shallow and brainless, but also volatile and given to dramatic outbursts in public.

I could try being myself again and see what he's like these days.

Jonathon had already traded his tacky flesh-colored suit for a simple white T-shirt and jeans, relieved to leave that part of the past behind. With the weight of Leo's lies and his disappointment no longer weighing him down, Jonathon found a pair of scissors in Milo's desk and went to the bathroom to finally cut ties with the thing he loathed the most: his hair.

It was an unanswered cry for help and every inch had left Jonathon feeling more and more helpless. Worth less and less as the years passed and Leo lived happily ever after as the perfect margrave and eco hero.

"You better have been perfect and it better have been worth it," Jonathon said to the mirror, grabbing hold of his ponytail.

He glared at it as he hacked through the thick bundle and tossed it at the wastebasket. "Ha!" Already feeling empowered and triumphant, Jonathon shook out the choppy bob and tilted his head from side to side, assessing. "I think I see him," he murmured to himself, recalling that he liked his hair longer on top so he could hide his eyes.

Jonathon hadn't kept track to see if Leo had saved all the things he'd set out to save or if his transition to Margrave of Hessen had been a success. Jonathon didn't want to hate the world for keeping them apart and Austria for getting Leo. It would only have made Jonathon feel even more insignificant and foolish for believing he had a chance. Who was he, compared to the fate of the world and all the power that came along with being a prince?

"I might be nothing, Leo, but I'm done being your clown."

With that, Jonathon went to work, hoping to find a fresh start with a new haircut.