10. SAMUEL

I didn't bother Leo again after giving him his food. I wasn't a nice person to be around right now, and I didn't want him to see me in this way. My father had just been killed, because that's what this was, this wasn't a death by natural causes, this was murder. So, I left him in the flat alone while I tended to raising hell.

My cousin, Elias was usually at the gallery. It's where I tried to find him first. Nobody had seen him there all day. His laptop wasn't in the office, and he wasn't answering any of my calls.

Reuben was Elias' father. I knew there was something more to this. First, two of my cousins come to me with questions about who would take over when my father died, and then he did. I was more than just a coincidence to me.

I left Elias and Preston messages with their assistants and through text message. Neither of them responded to me, but I'd told them I would meet them at the winery. Maxwell's Winery was part of the firm, an upscale wine bar in the centre of town. We also had our own vineyards across Europe.

It started out as a front for smuggling. You could smuggle and import a lot through wine bottles. But then it became an actual thing, and the wine was good too.

Up some old stairs above the winery was a temperature controlled private tasting room. I sat, waiting for my cousins. If neither of them arrived to meet me, then it was safe to assume one of them did it. My mother said she'd only seen Reuben that morning, but she also said she went for coffee with my sister, Belinda. Plus, the butler had left the house as well. All my trust went out of the window when I saw my dad's body in his chair, the hum of the oxygen tank still trying to pump as if it was doing any good now. I'd have thrown it out of the window if my mother hadn't wheeled it into the hallway.

Uncorking a bottle of white wine, I poured it into a glass and swilled it around before sticking my nose into it. Alcohol soothed me, like an incredibly affective numbing agent. I sipped the wine, savouring the dry fruity taste.

At the glass door, Elias arrived, looking sharp and formal in a suit with a bowtie. He walked in and sat opposite me at the table. He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, your dad was an incredible man," he said.

"Did you kill him?" I asked, twisting the cork away from the screw.

"No, fuck, Sam, you think I killed him?"

Over the sharp point of the screw, I rubbed my thumb. "Someone did. You know he had a couple years."

"You know, they give you those figures as like the best outcome."

Family didn't hurt family, but I imagined killing my second person of the day. I pierced my thumb with the end of the corkscrew, letting a small amount of blood appear. "Where's Preston?"

"I haven't spoken to him all day," he said.

"And why didn't either of you answer any of my calls?"

He looked around, as if there was an answer written on a wall somewhere.

I snapped my fingers.

Elias moved back, toppling the chair dramatically. "If you think I fucking kill him, just say that," he said. "I didn't. What do you want me to tell you? I was at an exhibition opening. It's what I do. Look at me. Do I usually dress like this?"

Leaning back in my chair, I chuckled. "I thought you were going to tell me you got married," I said, pressing my thumb to my mouth and sucking the blood. "You dated that Hungarian guy, right?"

Elias grinned, pulling the chair out to sit. "We broke up months ago. Seriously, Sam. I'd never do anything like that."

"It's just—you and Preston both spoke to me about who would take over when my dad died," I said. "A weird coincidence, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is weird."

"Your dad was there when he died, did you know that?" I asked. "If I were you, I'd speak to him and see what he has to say. The only reason I came to you first is because we're the ones running things now, but if your father had anything to do with my father's death. I can't say what I'll do."

Elias stopped smiling at me, his face pinched as he worked out what I was trying to tell him. "Are you threatening me? Listen, I know he stole that money once, but he wouldn't do that."

"If a threat motivates you to find out what the fuck happened, then yeah."

The squeak of his teeth grinding made my eye twitch. Elias was probably the most unhinged of all three of us. He did a lot to hide that part of himself, but it was there, and you could always see it attempt to rear its head. "Sammy, you know—" he paused, his teeth clenching his mouth shut. "Don't fucking do that."

Rattling a caged beast wasn't anything that scared me. I picked the empty wine glass and smacked it on the side of the table, shattering onto the floor, except the sharp stem in my hand. "You're not special," I said. "I'm going to tell Preston the same thing. And now that my father is dead, I am the head of the family. So, go crazy, but remember who holds all the power."

Elias strained himself across the table. "You only hold the power because we let you," he said through his gritted teeth. "Now, if you don't mind. I'm going." He grabbed the bottle of wine and stood.

I was sure of one thing. Elias didn't kill my father. Elias was a messy killer, controlled by emotion, he wouldn't have left my father looking like he had. Preston, on the other hand, he showed restraint in some of his kills, and he was a creative, not in the way Elias was with his paintings, but Preston didn't kill the same way each time.

Preston arrived in his gym clothes just as Elias gulped down wine.

Letting out a burp, he swung his arm around and threw the bottle to the floor. "Hey, cousin," he laughed, seeing Preston. "Did you kill Uncle Alistair?"

Preston's red face shook as he looked from Elias and then to me as I held onto the sharp stem of the wine glass.

"Well, did you?" I asked.

He sat in Elias' chair, stretching himself out in his matching sweatpants and hoodie. "Why the fuck would I do that?" he asked. "I know I talked hypotheticals with you earlier about who would take over, but I meant that as a way to get more business my way."

Too comfortable, too confident. Preston pissed me off. "What about your brother, Louie?" I asked.

Preston scoffed. "If we're bringing our siblings into this, why don't you ask me to call Rebekah too, and what about Auntie Adeline, she's a part of this family, and she was a Maxwell until she got married."

"Why are you deflecting?" I asked.

"Yeah, Preston, why are you deflecting?" Elias mocked.

"Louie doesn't even live in the area, Rebekah on the other hand, you just gave her the aesthetics clinic. And I'm sorry that you took a couple psych courses and think you know people, just throwing around big words," he chuckled. "I didn't kill him. Seriously. It's not like that would win me anything. If I wanted to be the head of the family, I'd do it by showing the family my worth, and you know we don't hurt family."

I nodded at them. "That's what pissed me off," I said. "We don't hurt family. But someone killed my dad. I know they did. Nothing sits right."

"Then I'll fucking help you figure it out," he said, pushing his hand across the table. The temptation to stab the stem into his wrist was strong. "And I only just got your calls and texts. I was out on a run. I don't take my phone out with me. It's nice to take time away from technology."

"I'll help too," Elias mumbled before letting out another wine burp.

Nodding in agreement to the proposition, I had suspicions, but I also knew that no matter how pissed either of them got, we didn't hurt family. I had to believe they still held that standard. "Fine," I said. "And when we find out who did it, I want to be the one who kills them."

They agreed to those terms.

I placed the broken glass down. "I want it done before his funeral. I'm gonna have our security firm looking into anyone near the house and I'll make sure all tests are run to figure out what the cause of death was."

Before we left the private wine tasting room, I grabbed an unopened bottle to take with me.

I got back to the flat late in the afternoon. That's when I saw Leo standing outside the door, his iPad, his teddy, and a small plastic bag filled with clothes in hand. He gave me his puppy dog eyes as he looked at me.

"You were going to leave," I said.

He shook his head. "No, I—"

"Don't play me for an idiot," I told him. Closing the space between us, I smelled my scented soaps and shampoos all over him. "What were you doing?"

"Ok," he mumbled. "I—I was going to leave, and then I walked outside and I—I didn't want to go. But the door shut behind me and I didn't know what to do."

I looked him over with an intense gaze. Of course, he didn't want to really leave. This place was a palace from wherever he'd been. He should take advantage of that, or at least known how to take advantage of it. I allowed him to do as he pleased, mostly in the apartment, I'd shown him the gym, the kitchen, and I'd given him the Wi-Fi. What more could he want?

"I suppose we can have that talk now," I said, tucking the bottle of wine under an arm while I grabbed my key.

"How—how are you feeling?"

I didn't have an answer for him, or anyone else who asked that question. I was pissed off, but I was also tipsy, and that was a dangerous mix. "Not a talk about my feelings," I said. "I gave your list to my assistant. She's arriving with the shopping later today." As I opened the door, I stood in the frame and looked at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm—I'm fine," he said. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, or why you even wanted me here. So—" he whimpered. "What do you even want from me?"

I wanted all of him. And I needed him to stay. He was special to me. All those days I'd spent staring at his face online. It was all for nothing now I'd kidnapped and forced him to work. Plus, his whimpering wasn't exactly a turn on.

"Everything," I whispered. I walked inside as he followed. "When you're done putting your things back, I want you to come—come and sit beside me." My face itched to smile as I said come and my brain tingled to think of how he made me want to cum.

On the sofa, I sat with my bottle of wine and a glass. He joined me, sitting nervously on the edge of the cushion.

"So, you want to travel the world?" I prompted.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head like an excited dog. "I've barely left London. It's so expensive."

"Well, I can help you," I told him. "Of course, that means you have to prove yourself."

"Oh." He shuffled back on the cushion. "I can. I'll do anything."

My last relationship ended because the boy was genuinely innocent, and completely offended by violence and what I did. Leo was different because struggle in life already tainted him. "What did you have in mind?"

He placed his hand at my thigh. "I—"

"No." I batted his hand away. I didn't want him to try that because he thought he'd get my favour for it. I wanted that when it was true and real. "You don't really want to do that, do you?"

Leo shrugged, his hands and arms coiled to wrap around himself in a hug. "I don't know."

"Can I ask you a question?"

He smiled. I understood the irony. I was doing the same thing I hated. "Sure."

"You sleep with a teddy; you dress in those—things. Do you have a little space you go to in your head where everything is rainbows and happiness?" I asked. I knew he did, and I wanted to know more. I wanted him to blurt out all the answers to my questions, since he had so many of his own. It was my time to ask him.

His smile faded, almost as if I'd uncovered a secret he thought had been sealed. "It's—it's not really like that."

Placing a hand behind his neck, I stroked a thumb at side of his face, just below the cut I'd made on his cheek. "I had a boyfriend once who did that," I said, my wine-induced loose lips were trouble. "He was like you, sweet, innocent-looking, and he would just—just be the sun, like an entire solar system of warmth from him. It was like we were the only two people around." My eyes grew glassy and tearful.

"Why—why did you break up?"

I pulled my hand and turned away to wipe my face. "Because sometimes the things I do don't help."

He tugged at my shirt. "Like killing people?" he asked. "I'm thankful you didn't kill me. I owe you for that."

"You should go. We can talk when I'm sober," I said. "I don't want to say something I'll regret." And I'd already said something I regretted. I didn't want him to know about my ex, or that I knew about his precious space.

"Ok," he replied, softly. "Thank you, again, by the way. The food was good earlier. And I—I shouldn't have tried leaving. I don't know—I don't know how to explain it, but I feel weirdly protected."

He was protected, here, and anywhere he went with me. I'd already promised him I wouldn't hurt him, maybe not aloud, but in my head, I had. Or at least, I wouldn't let anyone else hurt him. I ended that with a nod and stood.

Now, I had to deal with the erection in my trousers. It was sudden, like standing brought all the blood to it.