Innocent Eyes

Chapter Eleven

Cheers 🥂

Standing by his door, I stared at him who was deep in thought, going through the papers laid on the desk, and his slightly messy hair seemed a lighter brown shade in the soft morning light, and my gaze ran down to his hand, holding a pen in the most delicate way possible, pondering how the hand would move holding a violin now.

He never revealed any certain appeal to music or any natural gifts to pursue any form of art, he was meant to run the company as father wished for his beloved son and he was in the intended path, pretended for years as the master of Adams family.

He was not only the sweetest in dad's heart but also he was so... beautiful.

A true replica of dad loyally inherited all the beauty, and outstanding eyes... hazel mesmerizing eyes, and I found myself smiling, bitterly in the surge of antithetical feelings of jealousy and admiration.

I wasn't like him, or anyone in this honored family, which was flowed in generations of fame and wealth, I was a... disgrace, a mucky stain on a solid golden profile... a... bastard... an unwelcome birth validating an unholy sin, and the dilemmatic point that was it considered as treachery or as love? ... with the only man that I was mockingly alike... our gardener.

Sensing my presence he cocked his head, and seeing me by his door he swiftly stood up and approached me while running his fingers through his hair, nervously to seem more in shape.

"You... such a surprise brother." And reached to take my arm.

Brushing aside his hand I chuckled darkly. "Hands off brother."

Leaning to the leather armchair I took in him being tensed as he questioned. "How is Melina?"

Melina... The melody of that name rolling off his tongue harassed my ears as I closed my eyes in the sudden irritating fury not to surrender to my wild urges, not to shout, and recalling all the purplish marks irrationally coating her fragile body, and the open wound on her forehead, her insanely erotic moan-like whimpers as I was smacking her head to the mirror led potent waves of pleasure to my already hardened erect. "She's fine."

His eyes promptly flickered down, lingering on the evident bulge and that known unreadable look as he locked his hazel eyes with mine as if attempting silently to convey a confessed message.

"Do you like it, brother?" I said chuckling. "But that's not for you to feast on. I'm already taken."

Clenching his jaw he looked away annoyed. "You could have killed her. Why don't you let her go Mason?"

"I see you found some balls to question me, to decide what I should do with my wife. What else should I do? Huh?"

He flinched slightly as my words sharply cut through the air and futilely aimed to alleviate my building fury with his broken words, as stuttering. "I... I just... I'm sorry...I didn't..."

"Shut up. Enough of your babblings. One more word about my wife, just one single word and I will be blind to who you are."

"And who am I to you brother?"

Courage... infuriating courage desperately tearing apart my patience into thin sharp ribbons swirling around my fingers to form a fist. "You are walking on thin ice. I've always been patient with you."

Standing up I stepped closer to him, savoring the strained face, bitten lips, unsettled frame, And me sensing an absurd throbbing in my shaft, probably leaking, looming over a lame breathing beauty, how delightful I was, feeling the burning power. "You want to know who you are to me. When you already know the answer. Nothing. You are nothing to me, just a fucking face to see every fucking morning, to hear your footsteps behind my door every fucking night. I know what you do Steve. I know how many times you have listened to me fucking my wife. Look at me asshole."