At 7:45 a.m. the next morning, Ian, sitting in the sedan, waited in front of the Omega Pavilion, trying to make a to-do list. 

He was dying to grab the little brandy flask in his pocket and drown in alcohol all the obligations Ivan had bequeathed to him. 

Especially this one.

It would have been intellectually more comfortable to mourn his dead brother. 

Ian was certainly in mourning, but for a brother he had never had. 

Of the intimate friend, the companion of a lifetime, whom he would never have the chance to know. 

For until the end, Ivan, jealous and suspicious, had not allowed anyone to get close to...