During the three days of AWOL, Moe, after visiting all his favorite spots and engaging in an intensive cultural program, successfully diverted his attention and expelled the resentment from his system. He decided to let Einer take care of his pain in the ass brother on his own, especially since Manny had settled into a routine, regained his composure, and caught up with his studies. Moe had had enough of both Einer and Manny. He proudly did not access the bank account; he didn't care about Einer's attempts to collect for the months of Moe's hard work. If there were any penalty clauses in the contract demanding compensation for damages, Einer could go ahead and compensate himself, fucking asshole. If Einer wanted to pursue legal action, he could do so, but Moe had nothing to lose; he was bankrupt, and Einer would only end up losing on legal fees. Einer called, probably concerned about his investment, Moe irritably declined his calls and eventually blocked Einer's number altogether.

Manny attempted to call as well, but with the same lack of success. However, unlike his older brother, Manny also resorted to writing, a lot, in a confusing and emotional manner. Moe did not to block him though, he was just a juvenile idiot. Moreover, there was no lingering resentment toward Manny; instead, there existed a peculiar mix of mild dislike and affection. Throughout the three months of their agreement, amidst the fights and disagreements, they also had moments of fun – riding motorcycles, sharing pizza during movie nights, and playing video games. At times, Moe felt a warm, familial connection, as if Manny were his brother rather than Einar's.

Moe read Manny's messages, reacting with a furrowed brow or an unkind chuckle. Manny's messages were lengthy, and depending on his mood, he either apologized or tried to inject humor, often accompanied by pictures of his forlorn face. Despite the various approaches, the core message remained the same- Manny wanted Moe to come back.

On the third day, Moe received a call from the bank. He tensed as he heard the bank clerk's greeting, followed by a request for him to come to the bank and sign the necessary documents for IRS submission. Puzzled, he agreed, noting that surprisingly, Einer hadn't requested a lock on the account opened by his contractual employee. Despite weighing the pros and cons, he decided to go, considering his meager cash was running low. He faced the choice of either taking a part-time job or stating using the money on his bank account. The prospect of serving at banquets or taking up random gigs didn't seem appealing compared to the possibility of accessing his earnings, so Moe went ahead with the visit.

Moe received a warm welcome at the bank; the bank clerk, upon hearing his name, promptly rose from the seat and ushered him into a separate office, treating him like a high net worth customer. Moe couldn't help but smile at the gesture; it was a nice touch. He followed with a somewhat silly grin. Seated in a small room, he was asked if he wanted something to drink, and after being asked for coffee and mineral water, the clerk left. Moe casually tossed his backpack on the floor, contentedly staring at his watch, mentally traversing between Singapore and Madrid, dissipating the recent tension in the tropical heat of the Singapore beaches or the dry coolness of Madrid's streets. At the sound of the door opening, he turned calmly, smiling slightly, but his expression immediately darkened – Einer had entered the room instead of the clerk.

"Did you get some air?" Einar asked warily instead of greeting, and Moe felt like a misbehaving schoolboy in front of his teacher, blinking confusedly. However, he quickly pulled himself together and replied dryly, "In the process. What do you want?"

"Moe," Einar, who had been frozen in the doorway, stepped inside, changing his tone to a soft, exhorting one. "I'm sorry; I was wrong."

"That wasn't difficult," Moe said grimly, not revealing that he was touched by the words; everything inside was clamoring, dancing a festive tarantella, and he frowned even more.

"Not difficult," Einar took a chair and set it beside him, peering into grimly wary eyes. "Come back, Moe."

"Or what?" Moe prodded, still staring at him, anticipating a catch – he was sure there was a penalty in the contract, and Einar was about to throw it in his face.

"No consequences," Einar said calmly, stroking his hand as if not sensing the emotional tension, and Moe flinched, hiding his hands under the table. "I was wrong. Manny is making a considerable effort to bring you back."

"And you?" The words almost slipped out of Moe's lips involuntarily.

"Me too," Einar smiled, closing the distance and detecting the vulnerability. "Come back, Moe. Manny promises to behave, won't harass you, and I won't accuse you of anything. He admitted to provoking and harassing you, so you..."

"That's great," Moe grinned wearily, tilting his head. "So, he confessed. And if he hadn't, you'd still see me as a gold digger. It's nice that... If I don't come back, you can sue me and take your money."

"I'm not going to sue and take your money," Einer's jowls flared, clearly out of sorts; he didn't seem accustomed to admitting guilt and offering apologies, and his usual behavior didn't lend itself to such situations. "I knew even without his words that you weren't a gold digger, and you didn't care much about money at all, which is rare in our world. It's just..." Einer shifted his eyes, feeling embarrassed. "It's just that possessive alpha instinct, which I've never felt before, kicked in, and I made a mistake."

"Why did it kick in?" Moe was genuinely indignant. "You and I had sex with no strings attached, you knew it! I don't see a wedding ring on my finger to be demanded!"

"Do you want a wedding ring?" Einar smiled cheerfully, happy to be warming up.

"Why are you turning everything upside down? I wasn't talking about that," Moe, too, giving in to the warm confidence in the air after the simple confession, mirrored the smile with his own, but braced himself - now was the moment to make it clear. "Why do you need me? Manny's no longer clubbing, no longer skipping classes, he's back on track. I've done my job, I'm done. I can go."

"You don't understand the realities of our lives," Einar wiped the smile from his face, adopted a serious expression, and stared ahead with an inscrutable gaze.

"You haven't been exposed enough to them to grasp the world Manny and I have been living in since birth. We are not just rich; our wealth is staggering for most people on this planet. That's why we've been shielded from the public eye since we wore diapers, scrutinizing every interaction. We grew up knowing that trust was a scarce commodity, even among our supposed best friends, who might have been influenced by parents with their own agendas. Anyone entering our small circle underwent thorough scrutiny by the security service, including an examination of their family, friends, and relationships. We only formed close bonds with those who understood and played by the rules of our world... You don't fully comprehend, I can see that," Einar smirked faintly.

"I didn't realize that I strike people as a complete idiot, Einar. I can listen and draw conclusions as well," Moe retorted.

"I believe it's more effective to illustrate the point with examples, to provide a concrete context for the abstract," Einar sighed. "They weren't just scrutinizing other people's lovers; they were scrutinizing ours too, exerting control over our relationships. For instance, in our family, it was customary to employ certain services from a certain agency. Let's say, professionals who could navigate emotions, conclude affairs gracefully, ensuring there were no unpleasant aftertastes."

"Like escort or something?" Moe shook his head uncertainly, finding it hard to believe his own words.

"Well, not exactly escort; I wouldn't label them as such. They are more like courtesans, demimondes, concubines, geishas of western type, cocottes who have elevated intimacy into an art form. With these individuals, it's not just about the physical aspect, but you can also engage in conversations about everything under the sun, from politics to the recipe for cheesecake. They excel at making you feel as if you're in a genuine relationship, satisfying both your emotional and sensual needs. Is that clearer now?"
Einar observed calmly as Moe recoiled, a look of almost fearful realization crossing his face. Oh, damn!

"I suppose so," his voice quivered with an unsteady tremor, and a sense of pity for those unfortunate wealthy boys, along with self-pity, welled up within him. If only his own upbringing had been subjected to such intense scrutiny, perhaps he wouldn't have endured the hardships, and his father... Moe halted the logical progression leading to the painful saga of his own life, nervously swallowing as he rubbed his sweaty palms.

"How did I get entangled in all of this?"

"You're from a different world, free as a bird, unburdened by anything," Einer took his hand, guiding it to his knee and giving it a comforting rub.

"You're the opposite of us, the ones with strict rules. You intrigued me from the first day, cleaning the windows, giving me the middle finger, and then rejecting me—no one had ever turned me down, especially not a window cleaner."

"Something tells me you haven't met many window cleaners," Moe chuckled, feeling a bit awkward.

"You're the first, indeed," Einer chuckled, dropping the seriousness. "And after the vetting, when it turned out that Moe, the free bird, was genuine like no one else, my interest was even more piqued.

"My intuition told me that with Manny, you, with your temperament and your tendency to defy almost anything, would handle better than professional companions. And as for me... I was just delighted to be with you; you're incredibly open, vibrant, a breath of fresh air against the backdrop of professionals skillfully playing with emotions."

"Alright, stop," Moe blushed, feeling his cheeks warm. It was a strange mix of comfort and discomfort to hear Einar, who was typically reserved, break down the last of his defenses with unexpected candor. "Enough of this, or you'll be preaching about love till the end of time. I get the general idea."

"Will you come back?" Einar impatiently squeezed his hand. "Come on, Moe!"

"Okay," the danger light flashed red in the back of his mind, but Moe, warmed by the warm, heartfelt words, dismissed it. "I'll come back."

"Let's go right now," Einar rose, not letting go of his hand, and waved his hand nonchalantly, stopping Moe from reaching for his backpack. "Leave it, the bodyguards will take care of it. The most valuable things are on you anyway, so what are you worried about," he turned his hand over, touching the watch. "I've always been surprised by this watch, it's very expensive for a man without a roof over his head. And I've noticed that you never part with it. Will you reciprocate my candor and tell me where it came from and why is it so dear to you?"

"Someday, somewhere in the next life," Moe said with a mocking chuckle, and playfully slapped the edge of his free palm against Einar's forehead. "Come on, let your bodyguards follow me, I don't mind."

"You...," Einar said, with involuntary admiration. "You're going to open up sooner or later. I'd like to know you too; I've shared about myself, why don't you want to?"

"Because my secrets are so unnerving that they might keep you up at night," Moe answered honestly, and then grinned. "Don't give me that serious look; these secrets are my only treasures. Respect the institution of ownership, my friend."

"If you were a negotiator, you'd be quite successful," Einar grumbled, opening the door and gesturing to the bodyguards, who jumped up when he entered, "Take Moe's backpack."

"Very well, sir," one of them swiftly entered the room, while the other two dispersed, the second gesturing for Moe to follow with a tilt of his head, and the third followed them behind without waiting for the first.

"I'm not a fan of that protective nonsense," Moe remarked, feeling a chill as the two behind him appeared to glare.

"You'll eventually get used to it and stop paying attention," Einar nodded at the bank manager bidding him farewell and proceeded forward.

"Three months to go, I'm not planning on getting used to it," Moe interrupted, pondering whether agreeing to return meant signing up for an additional contractual term. Einar confirmed his suspicions.

"Perhaps you'll decide to stay even after the contract concludes."

In the car, Einar immersed himself in his work, fingers swiftly dancing over the keyboard and eyes fixed on columns of numbers. Meanwhile, Moe, who had been silent since their last conversation, observed him, trying to discern his intentions. The notion that Moe had brightened up the everyday lives of the wealthy captives in his unique position was clear as day, and Moe could accept that. However, the idea that the attractive Einar could be attracted to him, considering his inferiority in appearance, status, and manners, seemed utterly unbelievable. It belonged to the realm of absolute fantasy, and Moe didn't usually fill his mind with fairy tales. He pondered intensely throughout the journey back to the mansion, walked in a contemplative daze, trailing behind Einar as they entered the familiar luxury of the hallway. Moe mechanically removed his jacket and only snapped out of his thoughts when a breathless Manny flew down the stairs.

"You're back?! Moe! You asshole! Could've at least responded to a single message!" His youthful face beamed with genuine joy, dark eyes reflecting emotions that Moe couldn't quite discern.

"You haven't earned it, Manny," Moe swiftly shifted into his familiar mode of the sarcastic mentor, giving Manny a playful tap on the forehead when he attempted an impromptu hug. "Step back, Manny. Hugging isn't in my contract."

"That hurt!" Manny snapped, detecting the patronizing tone in the laughter. "I won't allow you to hit me anymore, alright? I'll fight back with everything I've got, and I don't care if you're a beta."

"Manny," Einer's voice turned icy, and Manny wilted.

"I... I apologize, Moe. I won't do it again..."

"That's alright," Moe playfully nudged him on the shoulder. "Let's set aside the sentiment and focus on what's important—I'm hungry."

Dinner unfolded in a relaxed manner. A laid-back Moe deflected Manny's half-hearted jabs, responding sarcastically between courses, relishing the reactions. Manny seethed with frustration at not being taken seriously, responding with sharp retorts and barely holding back from rudeness. Moe was certain that any remorseful phase wouldn't last long, evident from the pursed lips and clenched jaw. Yet, even that stirred a warmth in his soul, providing a fleeting sense of belonging to this peculiar family and a feeling of being needed. Einer observed them with a faint chuckle, refraining from intervening as a stern patriarch in their banter, basking in the artificial ambiance where the three communicated like a regular family. To Moe's surprise, Einer didn't head to the office or his study after lunch. Instead, he firmly took Moe by the elbow and led the way. Moe caught Manny's uneasy and scrutinizing gaze and that made him feel uneasy too.

"Where are you taking me? Hey?" Moe attempted to break free, but Einar held him tighter around the waist, persistently guiding him.

"To get you cleaned up. Street dirt doesn't become you," and only released his grip once they were in the bathroom, positioning himself against the door, making it clear to the pouting Moe that he wasn't planning to leave.

"I don't remember signing a contract saying you gotta be around for my hygiene sessions," Moe took off his sweatshirt, wrinkled his nose at his own scent, and hurriedly undressed – he wanted to shower, and if Einar wanted to watch, so be it. He wouldn't see anything new.

"And if I join in, would that be ok?" Einar removed his jacket, casually tossing it onto the laundry basket. Moe eyed the expensive jacket, hardly suitable for machine washing, but chose to remain silent. After today's sentimental proceedings, the prospect of sex seemed appealing.

"Can you wash my back and then leave?" Moe undressed completely and walked into the shower stall. He took off his watch, placed it on the vanity stand, and turned on the water, enjoying the sensation as the strong jets cascaded over him. "Ah, damn, that feels good!"

"And not just the back," Einar stepped in behind him, his cock pressing against Moe's tightening buttocks. "If you're up for it."

"Hold on, I stink," Moe trembled, vigorously lathering his head.

"I don't notice it," Einar, who had turned him to face him, suddenly tensed, as if he had unintentionally conveyed something of utmost importance, and Moe, taken aback, stood still.

"Can't smell, you mean?" Moe stood beneath the foaming jets of water, palms covering his eyes.

"I don't know," Einar replied dryly, taking the loofah and pouring gel over it. "Does it matter?"

"N-no," Moe shivered, allowing himself to be washed. "Anosmia from birth?"

"After my parents died," Einar said harshly. "Enough of this!" and without giving Moe a chance to apologize for intruding on a painful personal matter, pressed him against the wall, stroking his body with his free hand, swiping his loofah hand in sync, and planting a kiss on his mouth.

Moe stroked his shoulders and chest with soft, soothing movements, falling into the kiss and confused by his nervousness- in a world where synesthesia reigned, the inability to recognize smells, to envelop them in images, associations, sensations, to guess from the changes in pheromones the mood of the interlocutor, to be aroused by a particularly suitable one was akin to a handicap. Of course, Einer was not happy about his blunder; surely this anosmia was kept under "top secret."

Full of remorse, Moe refrained from mentioning the condom, spreading his legs obediently as greedy fingers, slick with gel, fumbled for the opening, taking a long ride over the sensitive area from balls to the sensitive gateway. Einer invaded with two fingers, moving them rhythmically, shaking his face at Moe's squeezed moans, and turned him against the wall, positioning himself.

He entered forcefully, pushing as deep as possible, igniting a heated sensation at the entrance. Despite the intense sensation, Moe only let out a subdued cry, not pulling away. After emotionally draining hours, this forceful encounter acted as a cathartic release, a brutal but cleansing experience. Moe pushed back, seeking deeper connection, breathing heavily, welcoming the slight soreness that promised imminent heavenly bliss and much-needed rest after three exhausting days. Einar thrust rapidly and unrestrainedly, guiding Moe's hips against him, fingers pressing insistently. With each thrust, Moe surrendered to the intense pleasure, breaking through the barriers of restraint, moaning louder and louder, breath quickening. He fully gave in, experiencing a profound sense of release and opening up. The pleasure was so overwhelming that it brought tears, washing away the tension, the pitiful cries, and the rigid tightness of his muscles – a true catharsis.

Moe squirmed and moved against Einar, who promptly seized his neck and shoulders with a strong hold. Convulsively shuddering several times, Moe opened his mouth in a silent cry and collapsed on weakened legs. Einar turned off the faucet, cradling him comfortably, and, laying him out on the floor, untangled the knot with a tearing wheeze, delving deeper with the swollen base, awakening nerve endings to a vivid and sweet pleasure.

With Einar's assistance, he freshened up, still profoundly relaxed, cotton-wooled, letting out sleepy yawns. Einar, softened and appeased, enveloped him in a large towel post-shower and ushered him into the bedroom. Placing him on the bed, Einar pressed his warm body against Moe's and silenced the imminent question with the palm of his hand, conveying the message succinctly, "Sleep."

Moe compliantly slipped into slumber—a much-anticipated, deep, and undisturbed sleep. He was blissfully free from the ghosts of the past, not even aware that his watch, usually a source of anxiety when absent, remained untouched for the first time in ages.