The church in Edmonton was richly decorated, the christening was not the party Alex had originally envisaged. Here with Gerard's family, welcoming his first grandchild. Alex had wanted to go to Aunty Silvia's parish church, the old woman had lived long enough to hold her great-great-niece and had died peacefully in her sleep at the beginning of October. Her funeral had been a celebration with all of Sylvia's friends making the day one of fond remembrance not grief and loss. A book of photos, a small stack of letters from Jon and her premium bonds left for Alex and his baby girl. None of the Smith family had talked to Jon's adopted son that day. His last link to Jon was gone. The old woman, like the disabled young man, had clung to each other as family, bonding through grief, pain, and brief moments of joy over their connection to Jonathan Smith.
That snowy cold morning, seven boys arrived to surprise their friend. Paul Roscoe walked with Joe Canterbury, Cassian James and Tom McMorin and following behind were Hugo Vries, Nicholas Marc and James Sprintz.
Alex stood with his cousins and CC's best friend Lisa. Tony was playing with his granddaughter, little Tia giggling and happy with the attention.
Lisa dressed in a fifties inspired black and white polka dot dress, four inch heels and a fun fur coat was discussing her lack of any real religious knowledge, "How come you've picked three non-Catholic girls for this gig?"
"You have the biggest heart in the world, Micky is ideal godmother material as a feminist activist with plans on being an MP and Patty is on the way to being a QC. My strategy is for the best team behind my little girl. No disasters like Ian bringing me up. Then Paul and James, well Roscoe is the twelfth richest man in the world and James' dad is the fifth richest man in Germany. She will want for nothing with those two guys in her corner and as an added bonus there is Uncle Harry."
"Quite, your scary nurse. His fiancee is up the duff as well. Perfect potential parents. You are fit and healthy, I can't say the same for CC. She's being a complete fool. I have pleaded with her enough. Let her go, Lexie. In six months to a year she will realise you have slipped through her fingers. Get a legal separation or a quickie divorce, move on, be happy, let her chase her Italian toy boy across Europe. You do realise that your school friends are like a who's who of the bratty heirs and serial A-lister's boyfriend material. I'm surprised Hello is not here."
"Do not joke about that Dylan had offers. Half the reason the christening is happening here not in London, LA or Cambridge." Alex smiled as the priest did his meet and greet, before the start of the service, which was being conducted in English and Ukrainian.
He had tried to be the better man, but his few conversations with CC's family had been eye-opening on all his wife had endured growing up. Her parent's who could only be bothered when things were arranged on their terms and their terms alone. The straw that had broken the camel's back had been their attempt to gain custody of the granddaughter they had never even met. That misguided attempt at control had destroyed CC's fragile grip on being a mother. The Taylor's legal bid had not even made it to court when Social Services had ruled them unsuitable guardians. It would be a cold day in hell before Alex tried to build any bridges over those arseholes, whose main objection was Tony and Gerard as homosexual grandfathers. He could understand CC running off, putting a thousand miles between herself and her controlling parents. She knew Alex, trusted him to be a parent, when she had been frightened off. This, meant Alex was alone; but he had no desire to jump back onto the dating scene.
Today he could stand back as Tony, Marie and Gerard had taken over. He could sit and try to gain some sense of calm. Tomorrow, he was going skiing with his friends. Gerard had organised it, trying to cheer his stepson up. Alex was the first to admit he was down. Truly he had wanted marriage to mean forever, not to crash and burn after the first bump on the road.
…
"Come on Tia, you've had your breakfast, you're clean and you don't have wind. Why are you being so grumbly? Want to go sightseeing? Its time to sleep girl. Nothing to see just stars and bare trees. Its 5AM, we both need our beauty sleep. At this rate you'll wake everyone." Then the pacifier was spat out again and Tia let out a pitiful wail. "OK, OK, lets get you wrapped up and we'll go for a stroll".
Three blocks were walked before the noise from the stroller ceased and Alex turned back to Marie's only then to notice he was being followed.
"Morning, Uncle Yasha. I take it you wish to meet your unofficial goddaughter."
In the diner, busy with the first diners of the day, Yassen Gregorovich held the sleeping baby. "She is like your mother. I only held you once when you were smaller than this, five weeks old. I went to London following John, after the ambush in Mdina. Your father was not at home, but your mother was kind and offered me tea and we shared a meal. Helen told me of their plans of moving to France, retirement in obscurity. I did not know of her death. I thought John had died on Albert Bridge. I promise to watch over your girl. I failed you and your father. I assumed too much."
Alex shrugged and finished his black coffee. "You weren't to know Ian was a creep. I survived. I have belt and braces contingencies for Tia. I have no worries, she will be loved, cared for and protected. You know I have a damaged heart, heightened risk of a stroke and any ingestion of dairy is likely to kill me considering I had such a bad reaction to the epinephrin last time. You worry about being on borrowed time, Yasha. I'm already past mine. Simple fact is every day is a bonus. I've already written my doctoral thesis. I'm just passing time until my viva voce in May. Its just strange you turning up. If I had known your address I'd have invited you to the christening officially. You have never met papa. I would have said we met at a conference or something."
The assassin put the sleeping child back in the pushchair. "I was working in Chicago and was planning to ski. You are too?"
"Yeah, Banff for three days. Everyone has decided I need a break. So, same hotel and everything?"
The Russian smiled "Yes, a strange coincidence."
"I have no objections to us picking up where we left off. You and I, we just are. See you tomorrow night? Your room or mine?"
"Mine. I will leave you a note at reception."
…
"You look better for your break, Alex." Tony said truthfully. His son was more relaxed, less care worn. Still tired though. "Not sleeping?"
Alex was trying not to think about each exquisite orgasm and just shook his head. "Well, I met a guy and I had no strings attached sex. No point in being inclusive when CC is living with a guy called Franco in Turin." He knew he was being blunt, but he had been half tempted to follow Yassen wherever, but both of them knew that was not an option. "Glad to see my little girl again, but I need to book a few sessions with a therapist. No strings fucking is a bit to close to being out of control. I'm angry, hurt and so drained that things with CC have just dissolved into nothing. When I get back I will be starting divorce proceedings. I'm also thinking of moving to LA in September, to be closer to you. Paul has offered me a job at Roscoe Communications near USC."
….
The note had just said Room 214, the twenty-four year old knocked softly on the door at 10:50. Would it just be sex? No it would be home truths and the comfort of sharing himself with his first love. This was complete madness, but if right now it was the choice between his wife or the man he both loved and hated equally, he would pick Yassen, The Russian may be playing games, manipulating this situation to his advantage, but Alex wanted nothing more than to be stripped down and for nothing but pleasure to matter.
A soft knock and the door was opened by Yassen wearing nothing but a robe. The room was dark as he entered, only the light over the desk was illuminated. Soft music was playing, classical piano but not a piece Alex recognised. He shut the door and entered the lion's den.
"I have drawn you a bath. I know you like them after travelling. I will help you in don't worry. Although you are walking much smoother with your new prosthetics. Do they help your skiing?"
Alex started pulling off his light fleece and technical top. "Hard to tell. I seem to ski better than either Paul or James and they have their feet. Tried a black run today for the first time since Grenoble. It was terrifyingly good. I refused to go off piste though. Not going to push my luck. Did you ski today?" Alex continued to strip, eager for a soak.
"I was up on the mountain paths going cross country with a guide. The conditions were wonderful." Yassen looked at the younger man take off his prosthetics, noting the improved design for the ankle joints.
It was the strange balancing act of moving on his stumps for Alex to sit on the side of the bath, then he gripped his helper to reach over and then lower himself into the water hot enough to make his scarred skin ache. As he sank into the bubbles, the twenty-four year old murmured "Perfect."
"Relax darling, I will wash your hair."
…
Alex was dressing at five, his lover was in the bathroom. He had learned Yassen's was now primarily a consultant; a job title that covered a million possibilities.
As the lovers had laid in bed, the assassin had explained "I test the security arrangements for the filthy rich. Similar to your friend Harry gatecrashing Paul Roscoe's apartment in London. I earn nearly as much for this as I did for killing people and it is all legitimate and above board. I am no longer the bogey man, but I have papers, pay tax, have two homes and I have diversified to own gyms as well as my stake in the bodyguard training academy. Too busy to visit you in Cambridge."
A night was all the Russian could spare as he was off to Panama to see a banker about his daughter's security team.
…..
Alex's nighttime activities had not gone unnoticed, his late arrival in his own suite was watched by one of Paul Roscoe's security team.
At breakfast, Alex yawned.
"Is it insomnia, or was there another reason you stayed out all night." Paul said as he drank his second cup of coffee.
"I met a guy, we got talking and stuff." Alex said with a mouthful of muesli.
"And stuff? Would that be cruising for sex? Your dad gave us the low down on your shitty break up behaviour. Please tell me you used protection?" Paul looked on as Alex stopped eating and sat back to cross his arms.
"Old friend with benefits… we meet up during stressful times. Last time was during my stay in the nuthouse at Topanga Canyon. We only talked then, I was a fucking mess. I can trust him with everything."
"Not Cass, so who is this mystery guy? Not the artist or the swimmer? That narrows it down to psycho Russian assassin. Jesus Christ, Al! He raped you!."
"What can I say, there is no cure for Stockholm Syndrome."