Chapter Twenty-Four
Wes
Wes was fucking exhausted. From the
pre-dinner soap opera with Kieran to the late-night dancing, he’d
finally begged off just after midnight, needing a hot shower and a
warm bed. Under the pounding spray of the rainfall shower, Wes’s
muscles relaxed and his mind cleared. He would call Ryker quickly
and then tumble into bed for much-needed sleep.
Slipping into the plush hotel bathrobe, Wes
stepped out of the marble bathroom and into his bedroom.
“Hello, Wesley,” a voice greeted him in the
dark.
“Jesus!” Wes flicked on the bedside lamp and
found Kieran stretched out on his bed. Completely naked. “What the
hell are you doing in my hotel room? Have you totally lost your
mind? How did you get in here?” Wes yelled.
Kieran just smiled. “I told the front desk
that I was your husband and couldn’t find my key. And then I
slipped the assistant manager two hundred bucks. You’d be surprised
how easily hotel staff can be bribed.” He laughed. “Come on, I know
you miss me. No one fucks like I do, right, baby?”
Wes grabbed the clothes lying on the floor
and tossed them at Kieran, then walked over to the bedside and
picked up the phone.
“This is Wes Stewart in the penthouse suite.
I want to speak to the manager. Now!” He paused. “I don’t give a
shit what time it is. One of your staff let someone into my room,
without my permission, invading my privacy. Now you either call the
police and get your manager up here, or I will!” Wes slammed down
the phone and grabbed Kieran by the arm, shoving him toward the
door. “I’m pressing charges against you. Don’t ever contact me
again. Out!”
Wes opened the door and threw the clothes,
and a nude Kieran, into the hallway, not giving a shit who saw the
spectacle. Several other doors opened, and curious guests popped
their heads out, their faces either shocked or amused when they
caught sight of the naked man.
“Wait, wait! Wes, I need a couple thousand
dollars. I got kicked out of my last place. The old fucker I lived
with cut me off. Come on, you owe me.”
Wes slammed and locked the door, ignored
Kieran’s banging and wailing. Eight minutes later, the police
arrived along with the manager, and Wes gave his full account.
Kieran was finally allowed to get dressed and was escorted out of
the building. The hotel offered to comp everything if Wes didn’t
sue, and since he was still a nice Canadian guy, he agreed. He was
too tired to care at this point.
When everyone had left, Wes checked his
phone. No text, voicemail, or missed calls from Ryker. Then he
checked his call log. Ryker had called at one twelve AM. The call
had lasted for one minute and ten seconds.
Wait. Wes hadn’t talked to Ryker, and that
was over an hour ago, when he was in the shower.
Oh, fuck.
Wes dialed Ryker. Voicemail. Again,
voicemail. Shit.
“It’s me, please, please call me back. My
crazy ex bribed his way into my hotel room. I had him arrested. I
just finished talking to the police. I don’t know what he said to
you, but it’s total bullshit. Nothing happened. I kicked him out as
soon as I saw him. Please call me back,” Wes pleaded.
He sat down slowly on his bed, leaned back
against the headboard, and closed his eyes.
The warmth of the shower was long gone,
replaced by a cold awareness that had nothing to do with the
temperature and everything to do with the fear that Ryker wouldn’t
call him back.
****
Ryker
Love sucked. And not in the good way.
Ryker tossed and turned for most of the
night, unable to sleep, and finally rolled out of bed at six thirty
AM. He went through his usual routine: walk Spock, feed the beasts,
make coffee, eat food, work, check his e-mail, all the while
ignoring his phone. He knew he couldn’t put it off forever and was
being dramatic, so he finally sat down around noon and listened to
Wes’s voicemail.
Ryker knew in his heart that Wes was telling
the truth. That wasn’t the issue. The incident had, however, made
Ryker aware of how quickly he’d become invested in Wes, how much it
might hurt if—when—things ended. He’d always avoided intimate
relationships for that very reason. His mother had been so stricken
when his father left, it was like she’d grieved his death. Even
when he was a little boy, years after his father’s departure, Ryker
would sometimes find her crying in her bedroom, repeating his name.
He knew he never wanted to go through that kind of pain. And
opening his heart to Wes would mean he’d have to face that
possibility. Maybe it was already too late.
Was he strong enough?
Ryker could admit he was in love. But was he
ready for this relationship? The reality was, they lived in two
different countries. How would the long-distance thing work? And
what about Wes’s penchant for publicity? Would he want their
private life posted all over social media? Ryker needed time to
figure out what he was able to give and how much he was willing to
take.
Ryker: I got your voicemail. I believe
you. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I just need some time to
myself and will contact you soon, I promise.
Wes: Okay. I miss you. Please reach out
to me, day or night.
He was relieved that Wes hadn’t pushed him
to get on the phone, like he’d instinctively known Ryker would be
skittish at the first sign of relationship trouble. As it turned
out, the crazy ex was just the beginning. The next morning, Ryker
stepped out with Spock for his usual walk, only to be ambushed by
reporters in front of his building.
“Ryker Desoumas!”
“Over here!”
“You were seen with Wes Stewart at a coffee
shop early Thursday morning. Are you two an item? How did you
meet?”
Between the camera flashes and the yelling,
Ryker’s anxiety took over, and he ran as fast as he could to get
away from whoever was following him. He managed to yell “No
comment” and kept going, lifting Spock into his arms to protect
him. Fuck, this was just the type of thing he hated—and why he
never publicized who he was. Now that he was with Wes, was this
going to be his life?
An hour later, Ryker returned to his
building and managed to get back inside without incident. He
advised the concierge about the reporters, called his agent, and
notified Mac to be on guard, but Mac just shrugged it off.
“I’m used to it, Ry. New York paparazzi
don’t faze me much at all. They’ve been following my family for
decades. You shouldn’t be bothered either. You know what it’s
like.”
“Sure, I was on the other side of the story
years ago, but I never harassed people about who they were dating.
This personal shit, it’s so invasive,” Ryker muttered.
“You might as well make peace with the fact
that today, everyone is watching your every move. It’s not just the
press. Anyone with a smartphone acts like they’re the paparazzi
now. Just keep living your life and don’t let them get to you. Once
they find another celebrity to follow, they’ll leave Wes, and you,
alone.”
“They haven’t left you alone,” Ryker pointed
out.
“That’s because I’m the outcast of the
well-connected Duran clan. They’re waiting for my downfall or a
public family feud. Trust me, you’re just the flavor of the day.
The newness will wear off quickly.”
“I don’t know. They seem to follow Wes a
lot, and he seems to court them. I need to talk to him about all
this. Anyway, I have to do something to get rid of all my angsty
energy. Thanks for the talk, Mac.”
Next, Ryker dialed Cal. “Hey, are you
busy?”
“Nope. What’s up?”
“Other than Wes’s crazy ex following him,
and the paparazzi following me because of him, not much.” Ryker
sighed, exasperated by today’s turn of events. “I’m headed to my
Krav Maga class. You want to join? I could use the company.”
“Is your instructor hot?” Cal asked.
“I don’t know! Is that all you think about?”
Ryker growled, pacing back and forth.
“Whoa, easy. I was just teasing. Of course
I’ll go with you. Tell me when and where.”
“Sorry, it’s been a shitty twenty-four hours
and I need a release. Pick me up in twenty. The studio is in
Tribeca.”
“You got it.”
Two hours later, they were both sweaty and
out of breath and taking a much-needed cool down. Ryker had been
training for a decade and was comfortable practicing with the
senior members of the school. Cal, on the other hand, had gotten
his ass kicked by a lady half his size and three times his age,
much to the amusement of the entire class.
“Shit, this stuff is hard, man. That lady
nearly fed me my balls,” Cal said as he bent over, gasping for
breath. “I’m not having any fun. Please tell me there’s a naked
version of this later on with hot people.”
Ryker laughed and wiped the sweat from his
face and neck with a large towel. “Nope, sorry. I thought you’d be
in better shape with all the sex you supposedly have. You’re
getting old.”
“No fucking way! I’m just tired from too
many late nights. And what do you mean, ‘supposedly’? Definitely! I
just need more sleep. Next time, I’ll be ready to kick ass.” Cal
grinned.
“I think they’ve decided to put you in the
kids’ group instead.” Ryker chuckled, and Cal threw his towel at
him.
“Come on, now that we’ve expended all our
aggressive energy, let’s grab some food and drink,” Cal suggested,
and they left to do just that.
Later on, at home, Ryker soaked in his large
copper tub and let the bath salts ease his aching muscles. The
exercise had drained him of all his anxiety, leaving him feeling
calm and empowered, like he did after every workout. It didn’t
matter that he wasn’t the strongest, the tallest, or the biggest
fighter. Self-defense gave him the confidence that he could face
whatever physical and mental conflict lay ahead.
It was the emotional conflict he was still
unsure about.
Ryker sighed and called the one person he
could count on for objective advice.
“Hey, it’s me again.”
“What’s up?” Mac replied.
“It’s about Wes.”
“What about him?”
“I have more on my mind than just the
tabloid reporters who followed me today. Wes had an incident the
other night with a crazy ex, and it freaked me out. All of a
sudden, I realized how much I cared about him and how easily I
could get hurt. You’re right. We live far apart, so how’s that
gonna work? Maybe I should let go of him before I get in too
deep.”
“Look, I’ll be the first to admit that when
you told us about the two of you a week ago, I was not entirely
supportive. Especially given your new working partnership. I’ve
never seen you take any interest in a long-term relationship, and
suddenly, you jumped in headfirst. I’m sorry, but I was worried
about you.” He paused. “Having said that, you can’t be afraid of
getting hurt. Sorry, but that’s life. And there are no guarantees
with anything. You love Wes, don’t you?”
“I haven’t said those exact words to him
yet, but yes.”
“You trust him?”
“Yup.”
“Then what is there to talk about? Life is
fucking short, Ry. You don’t want to wake up one day and realize
that you only have your work to fulfill you. That despite attending
dinner parties and social events, you sit alone in your office
until ten at night, night after night, wondering what it would be
like to come home to someone special. You will probably,
inevitably, get hurt, but you’ll also feel more alive than you ever
have before.”
“I know,” Ryker said quietly. “Thanks,
Mac.”
“No worries, but I have to get back to work.
I have contracts to negotiate.”
“Okay, I’ll let you get back to it. I have a
plane to book.”
This time, it was Wes’s turn for a
surprise.