The Deception Of Alexander Riotan #wattys2016

Chapter Two: What we leave behind.

Mornings in London were one of the few things that Alex missed. Rolling out of bed, stretching in the warm, golden, light peeking through the curtains. There was no rush of looming deadlines or business meetings. There was a whole symphony of random sounds to be heard as the city started to come to life.

Alex sat in the library, putting final touches on the business correspondence and ledgers he had to mail to New York. On his left were the annual reports of the titled estates that he would inherit one day. He had already gone through them in America but there were a few areas, regarding replacing the irrigation systems, that he wanted to discuss with his father.

It took time thinking of himself as a titled gentleman again. He had been a working man for the last six years slaving over Riot Industries. If it wasn't for his money or title acceptance would be a hard thing to find among the ton of London.

 He paid them no heed as long as they didn't openly voice their criticism. Alex had enough power and money to influence most of them if it ever came to that.

There was a slight scraping of wood against the floor, and he recognized his father's confident stride. 

Anthony, The Duke of Riotan, stopped when he saw Alex sitting behind his huge mahogany desk, amidst a pile of ledgers and papers. 

He had heard about his abrupt arrival when the family had come back from a ball, but Alex had already retired to bed. The years away had brought a hardness to his son's features. Anthony was overwhelmed seeing a man sitting where a small boy had once played pretend. Anthony could feel his eyes mist up with emotion but he pushed it down.

"I didn't know you got up so early," he said, as Alex slowly stood up in greeting.

His son gave him a small smile, saying, "people get up early back in the states. It would've been stupid of me not to pick on as well. It's good to see you, Father."

Of course his father would expect him to be the unruly, self indulgent, and self entitled heir that he had been. It was actually Alex's maternal uncle that had made him pick on the habit. Uncle Wolfie had been on his feet at six in the morning, barging into Alex's room at seven.

He passed away four years ago because of Cardiac insufficiency, widowed and childless, he'd left his company to Alex in the will. Alex had been surprised, and overwhelmed since he'd spent only two years working for him. His uncle had taken that unruly, self entitled, angry, twenty year old and turned him into his own man.

After his death Alex had made it his goal to ensure that Riot Industries achieved the affluence that his uncle had dreamed of it having. He made up for his youthful inexperience with his quick mind, hard work, and sheer will.

The Duke took two steps and enveloped his son in a gruff hug "It's good to see you too, son." his father said, before releasing him. "You're back home after such a long time. I'm sure business matters can be set aside for a few weeks. God knows you work more than half the dandies your age."

Alex face betrayed no emotion just like those Greek statues, that Anthony's wife loved to ponder over. He had heard all about Alexander's accomplishments in America, he had doubled the family fortune with his investments and Riot industries turned generous profits yearly. The company was rumored to be one of wall street's most earning companies.

In Anthony's mind, Alex had still been the carefree youth with the relaxed demeanor and easy charm. Now as he scrutinized the cool stranger in front of him, he belatedly realized that he'd lost more than one son that summer.

Alex wasn't the only one under assessment, he took in his father's wiry frame, the deepened lines on his face, and felt a pang of nostalgia.

Anthony Riotan was a good man and a good father. Lively, hardworking, attentive. He'd taught Hunter and Alex everything; from how to fish, to shoot, to ride, to balance books, to dance. Maybe not the last bit but he had certainly tried.