Double Dealing(22)

“Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome?" Felix asked in light humor, setting his mug aside on the floor next to him and stretching his long legs towards the fire. "You know, where the hostages end up identifying and falling for their kidnappers? I've read that some have even written love letters to their kidnappers for years after they are incarcerated."

"No way," I said, shaking my head. I took a sip of the tea, and found it light and herbal, if still so hot I could barely tolerate it. "First off, isn't that supposed to happen after a long time or lots of stress? You two have been so relaxed with me that I feel more like a houseguest than a hostage."

"Thanks, I guess. If I can ever retire from theft, I know I have a good future as a hotel owner," Felix remarked. He stretched his arms and interlaced his fingers behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe a small bed and breakfast in the Alps?"

"Felix, I'm serious!" I hissed. “What’s happening to me?”

He unlaced his fingers from behind his head before relaxing them on his chest, studying me curiously. "I could ask you the same question. I've been sitting here after Francois fell asleep, unable to get you off my mind. I should be thinking about any of a dozen other things, including just what the hell I'm going to do if my business partner tries to pull anymore shit with getting us out of Los Angeles. I should be trying to figure a way to turn this job into more profit, and how I'm going to get out of the country. Instead, I keep thinking of how your hands felt holding mine, and how your lips tasted when you kissed me. Even now, after telling me that you and Francois have been intimate, I can’t feel anger. Instead, only a sense of perhaps karma."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Have you two competed for women before?"

Felix shook his head. "No, but remember, I am King. He is the current heir apparent, but Francois is only my half-brother. Our grandfather had two daughters, remember?"

Felix's words struck me dumb as the implications sank in. "So you and Francois are only half brothers?"

"As well as cousins," Felix added. "It’s led to some complicated things within the Rom culture roots, but Father, to his credit, raised both of us as equals, his two sons that he loved. I’ve tried my best to continue that with Francois as we have grown older and become adults. But sometimes I have to act as King and not just as his brother."

I nodded my head. "It’s a strange, interesting world that you live in, Felix."

Felix nodded and picked up his mug from the floor, finishing his tea in another long pull of the herbal mixture. "So what can I do to help you, Jordan?"

I looked over at Francois, who was lying on the couch. The fire wasn't much, but it was warmer than the bedroom. "Can I sleep out here on the floor? I promise I won't try to run away. I just need to be warmer, and I’d prefer to not be alone.”

Felix considered it for only a moment then nodded. "Let me help you with the blankets."

I smiled. “Thanks, but if you steal these in the night, we’re going to fight. You may be the King, but I need my blankets.”



* * *



I woke up the next morning wonderfully warm and enclosed on both sides, as both brothers ended up sleeping on each side of me, Francois in front of me while Felix held me from behind. I sighed and stretched, feeling not just warm but protected, which should have been weird considering the situation. However, that was how I felt. “Good morning gentlemen. What's for breakfast?"

Francois groaned and turned his head to look me in the eyes. "First a walk in the woods to work out these kinks. If you're going to invite Felix and I to sleep with you again, can we try the bed next time? I know it’s small, but this floor is not too comfortable."

"You’re the one closest to the fire, Francois," Felix muttered sleepily from behind me.

“I didn’t exactly invite you two to cuddle up with me, but it was a welcome surprise. Who's building up the fire?"

"I am," Francois replied, "Felix did it yesterday, it's my turn. Would you like to prepare breakfast?"

"Not unless you happen to have a week's supply of Pepto Bismol," I countered. "Sorry boys, but I can't cook worth a damn. Microwaves and sandwiches are the extent of my skills."

"Then we’ll have to teach you," Felix said. "No proper Frenchman goes as long in life as we have without learning how to at least make a decent bechamel sauce."

I laughed and snuggled back into Felix's arms, while at the same time pulling on Francois. "So I guess you boys had a talk."

"We did, when my watch alarm woke me up to find you laid out on a blanket in front of me," Francois said. “We figured this was as good as locking you in the room, and would keep us all warmer in the process.”