Chapter 4

Four

Twenty-four hours after the gala and there was still no sign of Jonathon. Leo was at his wits' end. He hadn't slept and had spent the hours after Jonathan fled pacing in front of the windows in his suite, waiting for news.

"What do you mean, you can't find him?"

Markus's head hung as he delivered his report. "We've heard that he left his phone and a note for his aunt. She believes he snuck into the building some time during the night but we don't know how long he was there, what he did, or what he took with him when he left, but I'm working on it."

"She believes?" Leo advanced on Markus. "Did you ask her why or how Jonathon could have snuck in?"

"No, sir." Markus shook his head. "Ms. Hormsby has refused to cooperate until she's talked to Mr. Hawthorne, but the housekeeper, Tilly Weston, mentioned the letter and the phone to one of the doormen."

"Really?" Leo's head pulled back and he blinked at Markus. "I seem to remember Ms. Hormsby as being a strident and obtuse woman. Silly, even. But I assumed she would be more accommodating, given her connection to my grandfather and our history."

"She says that her loyalty to her nephew comes first and that she cannot believe he would do such a thing without a very good reason."

"I…" Leo paused, surprised to find that he agreed with Muriel. "I undoubtedly owe Mr. Hawthorne a lengthy apology. Security cameras?" he asked hopefully but Markus grimaced.

"I'm working on it but I don't anticipate that I'll have much luck without a warrant."

"Schei?e!" Leo clutched his forehead as another ache blossomed inside his skull. "I can't use my title in Austria but I can get anything I want there. Here, all I have is my title and it's practically worthless. I'm going to have to talk to Muriel Hormsby."

"You need to rest. You haven't stopped moving since we got off the plane. It's been days since you slept," Markus urged gently, but Leo threw up a hand.

"How can I sleep? I've spent the last decade believing I did what was best for Jonathon and that he was happy. Clearly, I was wrong and he's been hurting this whole time. I can't rest until I fix this."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but what if this isn't something you can fix? What if Mr. Hawthorne is simply being…irrational? There have been other incidents."

"No. You don't know him," Leo said, shaking his head. "Jonathon Hawthorne is one of the most gifted and intelligent men I have ever known. He could be…sensitive and stubborn, but I would never describe him as irrational."

Leo hadn't needed a security team until after he left Sch?nbühel and had formally taken over duties as Margrave. Unlike Max, who had been a quiet, stable presence and generally approved of until his divorce and the public learned of his homosexuality, Leo had been a controversial Margrave from the very beginning.

While he had no desire to date anyone after Jonathon, it had been important for Leo to be seen with people who identified as both men and women. He had learned from his predecessor that hiding the truth and living a lie had terrible consequences and Leo had wanted to support Max and other queer Austrians. Only the most conservative Austrians seemed to be bothered that the new Margrave was bisexual. Leo was actually pansexual but the few reporters who were brave/rude enough to ask rarely understood the difference when he tried to explain.

But it was Leo's dedication to conservation and combating climate change that had made him wildly unpopular with many people in and outside of Austria. One of Leo's first official declarations as Margrave outlined his intent to rewild as much as the margraviate's lands as possible and he shamelessly used his title and influence to inspire more rewilding initiatives across Europe.

It wasn't long before he began receiving threats and strange packages so Leo agreed to a security team. But he insisted that he select the person in charge and had sent for Markus, a longtime friend and a veteran who had served with peacekeeping forces in Bosnia. Leo trusted him implicitly and knew when Markus didn't want to tell him something.

"What is it?" he asked, making Markus flinch and swear under his breath.

"I'm not sure if Mr. Hawthorne is who you think he is. Or…perhaps he's changed a great deal since you last spoke," he suggested with a pained grimace.

"What are you talking about?"

There was another muttered curse as Markus took out his phone and swiped at the screen. "I've looked into him and… I'm sorry," he said as he passed it to Leo.

"Sorry?" he asked and was immediately confused by the collage of bizarre images. Some nearly pornographic. "What am I looking at?"

"It's Mr. Hawthorne's Instagram account. He is a prolific…poster and likes to document… everything ."

"I see…" Leo said, even though nothing he was seeing made sense. He didn't have any social media accounts because Leo didn't want his personal life documented at all and he had heard too many horror stories.

His eyes grew wider and wider and his heart grew heavier and heavier as he scrolled, taking in what had to be hundreds of pictures of Jonathon in a befuddling array of outfits that ranged from hideously tacky to obscenely—and offensively—revealing. And there were numerous pictures of Jonathon in extremely suggestive poses and shocking situations with countless faceless men.

"Dear God," Leo whispered hoarsely, blind to the outfits and the other men once he noticed that Jonathon's hair was the focal point of every photo. Braided, beaded, twisted, and sculpted into wild styles and shapes as it grew longer and longer, it dangled off the sides of beds or was wound in large, glistening fists. That was Jonathon's standard calling card shot after one-night stands, apparently.

The roses sent Leo's heart crashing to his feet. White roses were in nearly every photo as well, scattered all over the page.

Save me, Leo.

He had been begging Leo to rescue him for years. "What have I done?"

"Did you find something?" Sabine asked Markus as she hurried into the room. "Has he been found?"

"Did you know about this?" Leo shouted and held up the phone while pieces of a very ugly puzzle began to slide into place.

"Know about what?" she said, but Leo knew as soon as her eyes flicked to the screen and the color drained from her face. "I didn't see what any of it had to do with you and I thought it would have only caused you pain."

"He was in pain!" Leo roared at Sabine, waving the phone. "He was hurting because of me and he was trying to get my attention."

"You can't be sure," she said with a quick glance at Markus but he shook his head.

"I've never met the man so I can only take Leo's word for it."

"Leo, dearest!" She reached for him.

"Don't," he warned her, his heartache and fury rising as he tried to fathom how hopeless Jonathon must have felt as the months and years went by. "You should have told me."

"That he was sleeping with other men? I did! Remember: he waited for about a month after Sch?nbühel before he started screwing anything that crossed his path."

"You should have told me about the roses, then," Leo said loudly. "Show me!"

"What? Why?" she asked but swiped through what must have been thousands of posts before returning the phone. "There. He had posted nothing but white roses until this picture of him on his knees in a limo."

I miss you. Please come back.

Leo checked the date under the picture of Jonathon in the limo. "That was…a month after my assumption ceremony. This was when I was at Cannes with Sandringham. I told you I didn't want to go until I'd talked to Jonathon!"

"So?" she challenged. "You had been apart for a month and it's not like you promised him anything."

"You don't know what I promised him!" he snarled, causing her to rear back.

"Leo! He was just some…boy!"

"Some boy?" He would have hit her if she had been a man. "Get out!" he pointed at the door, too disgusted and betrayed to look at her.

"Leo!"

"Hold on!" Markus interrupted. "Did Mr. Hawthorne ever try calling or writing?" he asked carefully.

"Did he?" Leo asked Sabine. "You told me he wasn't answering whenever we tried to call, but you take most of my calls unless they're from Max or my brothers and you answer most of my mail."

She gulped loudly, earning an exasperated groan from Markus as he took several steps back, exiting the conversation and the blast radius.

"You were so busy, Leo! And it was such a precarious time for you as Margrave. The Foundation was still reeling after Maximilian and Ella," she said quickly. "You remember how frantic we all were!"

"No! I still wouldn't have turned my back on Jonathon!"

"Please, Leo! You'll give yourself a migraine or you'll get sick again," she attempted but he didn't care. He wanted his skull to crack open and hoped his ulcers would erupt. He deserved all the agony his body could muster.

"Get out!" He swung wildly at the air, needing to vent his rage while she ran from the suite.

"Leo, please ," Markus said firmly. "You'll make yourself sick."

"I should have checked on him!"

"Why didn't you?"

"I thought I had! I asked Sabine to call him and he was always busy." Leo swore in horror as he recalled her holding up the phone while a recording told him to leave a message. "She told me he had moved on and I didn't want to stand in his way. I thought I was giving him space. I didn't want my life to swallow his, the way Max's had swallowed Ella's and destroyed her. But I promised I'd be there if he ever needed me."

"You didn't know about the calls or his letters," Markus argued and Leo nodded at the phone.

"I would have gone to him if I had known about the roses. I shouldn't have given Sabine that much control over my communications," he said, earning an eye-roll from Markus.

"She's your assistant. It's her job to screen your calls and messages because you'd never get anything done if you answered every one of them yourself. And Sabine might not have known that Mr. Hawth—" Markus started but Leo cut him off with a glare.

"She was the only one who knew about us. I trusted her to make sure he woke up to white roses every morning and she knew he—" Leo's voice crumbled and his legs felt weak. "She knew how much he loved me. He wouldn't have done any of this if I hadn't abandoned him and I would have known he needed me if she had simply told me about the roses."

"I'm sorry. I'll do everything in my power to find him," Markus assured Leo in his deep, even rumble. "I'm sure that once you explain, he'll see that it was a misunderstanding."

"What if it's too late? What if he hates me or doesn't care anymore?" Leo asked him and Markus made a thoughtful sound as he studied their feet.

"I don't see why he'd bother wasting a perfectly good gin and tonic on a man he doesn't care about."

"How do you know it was a gin and tonic?"

A wry grin curved Markus's lips. "I can still smell the gin and a hint of citrus."

"That's uncanny," Leo said, not entirely in approval.

"It's part of the reason you hired me," Markus said as he tapped the side of his nose. "I can smell cocaine or gunpowder from a mile away. And I enjoy a good gin and tonic when I'm off the clock."

"No," Leo said, staring at him. "I hired you because you're 6'6'' and have hands the size of my head. And because you can kill a man with just those hands in the time it takes me to duck and cover my worthless head. I think this is a good time for you to clock out, actually," Leo said as he checked his watch. "I've had you on your feet and hunting since the gala."

"I'm fine. I'd rather monitor the situation while you rest," Markus replied, earning a knowing hum from Leo.

"I know you would. But I give you orders, not the other way around, and I'm telling you it's time to clock out. I'll see you in six hours," he stated with a taunting lift of his brows, daring Markus to push back.

Leo was still in the mood for a fight, if Markus was willing to take the bait. Thankfully, Markus saw the trap and bowed, taking his leave.

"Where are you hiding, Jonathon?" Leo whispered as he turned back to the view outside the window and braced a hand on the glass.

It had been so much easier to find Jonathon at Sch?nbühel. All Leo had to do was follow the light.

That's how Leo had found him during their first week at the romantic castle. Leo had grown curious as to where his guest was sneaking off to and how he passed the long, quiet hours of the day. According to Sabine, the young man had easels and canvases tucked away in various rooms and hallways around the castle. Jonathon was rarely in his own room and the staff barely heard a peep out of him because he preferred to hide with his paints and brushes.

Leo wasn't even aware that there were guest rooms in the Rose Tower and couldn't fathom why Jonathon had bothered to haul an easel and art supplies up the narrow winding stairwell. He couldn't, until he peeked around the door and found Jonathon, painting by one of the narrow, arched windows.

Jonathon's eyes were cast low, thick eyelashes fanned across his cheeks as he focused on a canvas, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He'd taken off his shirt and his torso and arms were streaked with golds and soft blues, reminding Leo of an angel, glowing as the sun set behind him.

"I've found you," Leo had said, leaning against the door jamb. He was lightheaded and his heart raced when Jonathon's lips parted on a surprised gasp and their eyes met over the easel.

Time had stopped and Leo thought he was more beautiful than anything painted by any man's hand. Golden light slanted across Jonathon's face and chest, making him even more ethereal with the dusky sky and the murky blues and greens of the Danube behind him.

"I didn't mean—!" Leo started when the paintbrush tipped out of Jonathon's hand and onto the drop cloth under him.

"I'm so sorry!" Jonathon blurted at the same time as he bent to retrieve it. "I was told that these rooms weren't in use and that you wouldn't mind."

"I don't," Leo insisted as he rushed to get to the brush first. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Jonathon laughed, swiping it off the floor before Leo could get there. "I get so focused, I forget where I am or what time it is until the light isn't right anymore," he explained while wiping the bristles on his jeans.

Leo's attention had stuck to the green smear across Jonathon's thigh as he stepped around the easel to take a look. "May I?" he asked, distracted until he yanked his eyes up and back to Jonathon's.

"If you'd like," he said with an easy grin. Jonathon was blushing, though, as he stepped aside and rested his shoulder against the window's frame. "The water and the snow look iridescent from up here and at this hour with the sunset reflecting off of everything."

"That's why you're always late to dinner," Leo teased, then did a double-take. "Jonathon! That's…stunning!"

A warmer, dreamier view of the river and the winter valley outside the window was reflected on the canvas. The snow and water shimmered in gold and pastel tones, reflecting the setting sun, adding to the dream-like aura. Jonathon had used tiny strokes, like the impressionists. But his liberal use of soft pinks and purples, glowing yellows and golds, and deep, dreamy greens and blues made the view surreal and reminded Leo of a scene from a fairy tale.

"I prefer portraits, but I'm tired of painting Muriel, so I thought I'd practice landscapes while we're here."

"Practice?" Leo stared at him for a moment, stunned at the younger man's nonchalance. "May I have this when you're finished? Give Sabine your price and we'll hang it in the gallery on the first floor, with the other Sch?nbühel pieces."

"If you want," Jonathon laughed and shook his head. "I don't sell my art. Not yet. I like to leave it when I'm done, as a thank you gift to whoever hosted me and my aunt, so you'll end up with a stack of these by the time we leave."

Leo was both appalled that Jonathon could be so cavalier and careless with his art, and staggered at the literal treasure trove of paintings he intended to leave behind at Sch?nbühel.

"You can't be serious!"

Jonathon shrugged it off. "I'm too serious about too many things, but this…" His hand rolled vaguely as he gestured at the canvas. "This is merely a handful of evenings and a series of idle, rambling thoughts. A project to keep me sane and a study of the sun and the way it touches the river and the snow," he explained, then smirked mischievously as he canted toward Leo. "And how tiresome would it—would I—be if I treated every painting like it was one of my children?"

"Now, that , I can understand and certainly appreciate. I breed horses—an expensive obsession I inherited from my father—and I can't become attached to every foal or my stables would be bursting," Leo mused, earning a bemused snort as Jonathon's head tipped from side to side.

"This is almost the same except without any sentience, since we're talking about canvas and oil paints. Anyone can appreciate a horse because it's…a horse and what's not to love? People will always love horses—they're never going to go out of style or favor. But art is subjective so a stack of Hawthornes might amount to nothing but junk in a decade."

"I doubt that," Leo replied as he stepped out of the way. "Please, continue."

Jonathon winced over his shoulder at the window. "I was just about done for the evening." He reached for a rag and wiped the excess paint from the brush. "The light isn't right anymore."

"Where do you hide in the mornings after breakfast? Where do you find the best light?" Leo turned and pretended to study the round room's construction, grimacing up at the beams. He hadn't intended to sound like a stalker or admit that his mornings lacked anything resembling purpose.

"The best light is before breakfast," Jonathon whispered conspiratorially. "There's a small parlor on the other side of the castle, off the music room. It has a lovely view of the garden and it's magical at dawn, when it's still misty and the snow glitters like diamonds," Jonathon said distantly, his lips curving into a dreamy grin. "I've been sneaking down before everyone's awake so I can catch the sunrise and it's fun, tiptoeing around the castle like a detective in an Agatha Christie mystery or a princess from one of Grimms' tales."

That made Leo chuckle. "What part do I play? Am I the big, bad wolf or the killer? Don't tell me I'm the murder victim," he guessed, but Jonathon gave him an impatient look.

"You are obviously the dashing, noble prince. You're very charming."

"Then, this is certainly a fairy tale," Leo said with a sheepish smile. "No one who truly knows me would say I'm charming."

Jonathon's adorably pointy nose wrinkled as he cleaned his brush. "How would they describe you?"

"Well…" Leo paused, considering. "I became the head of our family when I was seventeen, when we lost our parents."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry," Jonathon said and Leo waved it off, never one to discuss his own grief or acknowledge any loneliness he might have experienced.

"As a result, I can be rather strict and impatient. I have three younger brothers and I am not exaggerating when I tell you my soul and my sanity have been tested," he said with a heavy sigh, making Jonathon laugh.

"They couldn't have been that bad!"

Leo widened his eyes, haunted by the memories. "They were. And they continue to try my patience in every possible way. They think I'm a controlling stick in the mud, but I just want to keep them out of jail and the tabloids."

"That seems reasonable and understandable, but from all I've heard, it isn't in a little brother's nature to make his older brother's life easier," Jonathon countered.

"Never," Leo confirmed wearily. "I love them with all my heart, unfortunately, and would do anything for them."

"I think they're very lucky, your brothers. No one's ever cared about me enough to be strict," Jonathon said and Leo noted the way his eyes glittered as he studied the bottle of oil soap in his hands. "I went to boarding school for a year—it was all my father could afford before he quit keeping up appearances—and I liked how strict most of the teachers and staff were. It was the only time I felt safe before I went to live with Muriel."

"I'm very sorry," Leo said sincerely. "I have a brother who's younger than you and I worry about him constantly and I regret that I can't be there for him like I was for the other two. Eli is also the one who tests me the most. I don't think that's a coincidence," he added with a wince. "I know my other brothers better and we have far less conflict because they understand me in ways Elio never will. Theo's looked after him since he was a small child because I was away at university. He's the only one Elio will listen to. He thinks I just want to control him."

"He'll come around," Jonathon said, his nose wrinkling again. "I used to get so annoyed with Muriel until I realized it wasn't normal for a child to be left alone and to fend for themselves. Meddling and pestering is how Muriel shows she cares. It's her love language," he added and chuckled as he shook his head. "You're controlling because you care. Elio will learn to appreciate that once he's seen what it's like to be on his own in the real world."

"Possibly," Leo said and shook his head. "I'll never outgrow the instinct to insulate him from reality, for better or for worse," he confessed.

Jonathon sighed as he clutched his chest. "Oh, to be loved like that," he said, laughing. He noticed that Leo's gaze had lingered on the hand curving over Jonathon's bare, paint-flecked pec. "Sorry! I forgot! I'm so used to working like this," he said in a rush and darted past Leo to get his shirt off the bed.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Leo stated firmly, heading for the door. He'd made the moment awkward and made Jonathon uncomfortable by staring like a creep. "I want you to make yourself at home while you're at Sch?nbühel and I don't care what you do while you're painting. Who am I to question a genius?"

That had earned a bemused snort from Jonathon, but Leo had been utterly sincere. He would come to regret that in the coming days, though. Instead of preparing for the upcoming ceremony in Vienna and his new responsibilities as Margrave, Leo began to track time by light and wandered the castle in hopes of catching a peek at Jonathon while he worked.

"His work!" Leo gasped, snatching the memory away and forcing himself back to the present. "What happened to his art?" The whole world should have known Jonathon's name by now and Leo should have seen his work in magazines and on billboards.

It looked like Leo had another reason to talk to Muriel: he was suddenly keen to find out how so much potential could have gone to waste.

"Where are you, Jonathon, and what the hell happened?"