Page 53 of Jonathon, After All

“Mr. Hawthorne, how lovely to hear from you again.” Her tone suggested it was not lovely and that someone else might have been listening. “I’m afraid Mr. von Hessen is on another call and is just about to leave for the airport.”

“The airport?” Jonathon brightened. “Is he coming to London?”

“No... He’s going to Cannes. It’s important for Mr. von Hessen to make the right impression at certain key events this year,” she explained, clearing her throat. “With the right people,” she added.

Jonathon’s jaw fell. “What kind of people?” he asked loudly.

“I’m so sorry, Schatz,” she said, her tone patronizing and heavy with exaggerated sympathy. “I did warn you that Leo can be very fickle and he’s been so busy.”

“I know, but?—”

“And we did have concerns about your…situation,” she interrupted.

“My situation?” Jonathon lowered onto the foot of his bed. “What situation?”

Sabine laughed. “You can’t be serious!” She paused for a moment, then gasped. “You poor, poor dear. It would be one thing if it was just your age or the fact that you’re an American, but your family has a dubious history.”

“Leo doesn’t care about any of that!” Jonathon had argued. “He knows that I don’t have anything to do with my parents and I don’t care about money,” he said, but she made a flat, noncommittal sound.

“It seems he’s come to his senses and has accepted how complicated and embarrassing this could be for him.”

Jonathon shook his head. “No! Leo loves me. He promised that none of that mattered.”

She sighed and Jonathon heard an impatient tapping. “I thought it would only be fair to warn you because there will be pictures…”

“Pictures?” he rasped, feeling like his chest was caving in. “What do you mean there will be pictures? Pictures of what?” Jonathon demanded. He glanced at the mirror and his nose was running and his lip was wobbling. Jonathon looked as pathetic as he felt and wondered how he could have ever believed it was real.

“He won’t be alone while he’s there, Schatz,” Sabine said with another sigh.

“No.” Jonathon shook his head. “What about my emails? I don’t think he’s getting them, Sabine. He would have answered me.”

“I made sure he saw them myself,” she replied.

“He would have answered.”

“Then, I would have made sure you received it. I take my job very seriously, Mr. Hawthorne. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid Mr. von Hessen has changed his mind and is moving on. I hope you do as well. I truly wish you the best.”

“The best?” Jonathon took that like a kick in the gut. “The best! Leo was the best. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

There was a long silence. “I would suggest you move on. I wish you the best, Mr. Hawthorne.”

He hung up and Jonathon never called or wrote again.

A few days later, he saw Leo at Cannes with a gorgeous British race car driver. The photos of Leo with his hand around Royce Sandringham’s waist were perfectly tasteful—too tasteful in flawless tailoring and perfectly chiseled, stubble-dusted jaws. They looked like boyfriend twins and Jonathon had thrown up.

He was bluffing when he paid a limo driver to take pictures in the backseat with him. The driver wasn’t as hot as Leo, but he was pretty with warm tan skin and a sexy Puerto Rican accent. Before Leo, Jonathon had a weakness for guys from Brooklyn so all the boxes had been checked.

The driver—Carlos or Diego—was sweet and had told Jonathon he didn’t want any extra money and that they could “do whatever.” They had kissed and Carlos or Diego had said all the right things, complimenting Jonathon and offering to take him someplace nicer so they could get to know each other. But Carlos or Diego didn’t stand a chance.

“You’re just a boy and that suit is made of polyester,” Jonathon had said, lashing out and stomping out any hopes Carlos or Diego might have had. He wasn’t in the mood for hope that night and Jonathon was taking Carlos or Diego down with him.

Next time, take the money and mind your own business.

The gloves came off almost five months later. Jonathon was furious when Leo was seen at Fashion Week with a model. Any model would have stung, but Petra Becker was Austrian, twelve years older than Leo, and semi-retired and considered a fashion icon. She was statuesque, a vegetarian, an environmentalist, and a philanthropist.

Jonathon got into drinking and cocaine after several papers and social media outlets suggested that Becker would make a perfect Archduchess.

After that, Jonathon stopped looking. He eventually heard from Muriel that the Margrave had “lost interest in that model” but it didn’t matter anymore, Jonathon had cut the cord and was in free fall.

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