FIFTEEN
1076 Words
The striking sun rays dominant on Brandon's face and Wilson's raging voice woke Brandon up from his sleep. He sat up, watching his man pace up and down, speaking Russian. He was so mad about something that he didn't even take a glance at Brandon before slamming the door shut behind him. Brandon exhaled, stood, and went to the bathroom to freshen up.
Wilson walked into his study, still ranting. Furiously, he ended the call. He has been meeting dead ends, and he felt himself running out of time with his investigation. He couldn't bare living in secrecy and wanted to get back to work as soon as possible. Moreover, he wanted to let the world know about Brandon, but only when it was safe for them. There was also the case of his mother, and he hadn't gotten tangible information from all his sources.
His phone began to buzz again, and it was his doctor. 'Yes,” he answered.
“Mr. Edward, the DNA test results are back, and they matched.”
“What the f**k do you mean the matched?”
“The hair sample and saliva sample matched. Both are related.”
Wilson after recovering had gotten one of his men to trace down Vivian, pretend to be a worker, and had gotten a hair sample of the child Vivian claimed was his. With that, Wilson took his saliva sample and gave it to his doctor to conduct a DNA test. Even while he was bedridden, it bothered him that a child with Vivian might shake his relationship with Brandon. He didn't know how Brandon would take it. He wanted to avoid hurting him. Hitting them because of a careless mistake, that might be true.
From one bad news to the other. Could he tell Brandon this? Was it wise? He feared ruining what they were building after the attack. Lately, it has been all fight between them. Telling him this now would put more cracks in their relationship. Wilson decided to hold back until he was certain.
“Mr. Edward, are you there?”
“Yes. Thank you. That would be all.”
Wilson put off the phone and slumped into his chair. He was dealing with a lot, and now this DNA result matching has added to it. How would he handle this with Brandon? He had proposed to turn in for work today, but the bad news weakened him. Spending the day with Brandon might make it better.
He put his phone in the second drawer of his office table and went back to Brandon, who was ready. He had freshened up and was now in a bathrobe.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, concern on his face.
“Just dealing with a lot,” Wilson casually responded, undressing.
“You know that I'm always here whenever you need me. Talk to me about anything and let me know how I can help.”
Kissing him passionately on the cheeks, “you can suck me off. That will help.”
Shaking his head, “I forgot for a second how horny you are all the time. Give me a break, man, my ass is on fire and my mouth hurts from all the moaning,” he complained.
Wilson chuckled, slamming his pajamas onto Brandon's face, walking stark naked into the bathroom.
It took about thirty minutes before he was done. “Babe,” he called out to Brandon, who was already munching on their breakfast. “You'll have to change into shorts, sneakers, and a polo. We're training. . .” he poked out his head from the closet to see why he was getting no response, and his gaze fell on Brandon as he stuffed his mouth with toast and scrambled eggs. Wilson smiled and continued searching for what to put on.
All done, he joined Brandon for breakfast.
“What is the meaning of that side mother and child sculpture in the sitting room?” Brandon questioned.
“It's my mom and me when I was much younger," Wilson answered, his voice hardened, his amusement disappearing without a trace.
“Why does it look sad and in pain? What happened to her?” he continued as he gulped down his orange juice before taking a supplement of Vitamins Wilson had added for him.
Wilson's hand balled into a fist. “She was murdered, and I can't find the culprit," he murmured, his gaze appearing distant for a moment. “But, I won't rest until I get answers for her . . .” he blinked, then focused his attention on him again. “Let's just eat.”
Brandon nodded, keeping his expression impassive despite the rage churning inside him. “We'll get every last one of them," he said, surprising Wilson for a moment. His eyes glittered darkly in the sunlight.
“Yes, we will,” Wilson agreed, now comprehending Brandon's meaning.
Like Wilson, Brandon wished that all those that hurt them will suffer. He hungered for revenge; he could hear it in his voice, see it on his face. It made Wilson wonder what would happen if he somehow ended up with Edward snr at his mercy. Would he be able to truly hurt him? To inflict such pain, that he would beg for death? It was an idea Wilson found more than a little intriguing.
“What about your siblings?” Brandon asked, interrupting that train of thought. “Do they know that you're alive?”
“No.” Wilson shook his head. “It is best everyone thinks I am dead until I make an appearance at work.”
“Why?”
Wilson shrugged. “It will minimize putting us at risk," he casually said, ignoring the dark memories that flooded his mind at his innocent question. He didn't have a sour relationship with his siblings any longer. At the same time, it wasn't pleasant. There was no one he could currently trust. One of them could be after his head too. It was only Brandon's presence that kept him coordinated and distanced from the irritating thought of how everyone wanted him gone.
Brandon placed his hand on Wilson's knee, bringing him back to the present. “Wilson. . .” he paused for a moment, as though unsure whether to proceed. Then he apparently decided to forge ahead. “There’s something I would like to ask you,” he quietly but firmly said.
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