5. Shilo
Shilo
I hate this. Hate everything about this stupid assignment, this class, and the passive-aggressive professor who can go kick frickin’ rocks.
But here I am.
At CalTek, bright and early at the butt-crack of dawn on a Monday morning, waiting at the security desk for my clearance badge.
The toast Mom practically shoved down my throat before I left sits like a rock in my stomach. Or maybe it’s the thought of work today. Probably both.
After running out on Friday, Paige caught up with me in the lobby to give me the bad news—I got hired—before dragging me into the HR office for onboarding. She was completely oblivious to the fact that the guy from August is her boss. Well, now my boss. And don’t even get me started on yesterday’s shopping spree, where Dad bought me dress clothes, made me promise to pay him back, and then told me how proud he was. That was probably the hardest part of all.
Besides Paige doing my hair, I haven’t had a moment to breathe. Relax. Hang out with my rat and play WoW.
“Here’s everything you need,” the security guard says, handing me a badge and a binder. “Company directory, building map, daily schedule, and employee handbook. Executive offices are on the thirteenth floor. Good luck.”
Mumbling a thanks, I flip through the binder as I walk, studying the map. Some areas are marked as restricted in red, others as limited access in yellow. Apparently, my badge won’t get me into places I’m not supposed to go. For now.
Snickering at the thought, I glance at my badge photo and my smile fades into a grimace. I look shell-shocked, worse than my driver’s license. Like a crackhead who just spotted the cops.
Reaching the elevator, I’m about to step in when I hear my sister’s voice.
“Shilo! Hang on a sec!”
She’s out of breath, sweaty strands falling into her face as she hurries over. I can’t help but laugh at how haggard she looks.
“Rough morning?”
“You’ve no idea,” she groans, tightening the messy bun on her head. “I’ve got three high school tours on the roster today, a career seminar, and emails coming out of my ass.”
“That sounds painful. You should see a doctor.”
“Hardy-har, smarty pants.” She ruffles my hair and fixes my shirt collar. “Ry texted me. He wants you to bring coffee and doughnuts to Conference Room Delta for their morning startup.”
My shoulders slump, sweat forming on the back of my neck at the thought of dealing with the baristas in the Café. “He can’t get it himself?”
Paige gives me a funny look, pulling me aside as a group of employees step out of the elevator. “Probably not, considering he’s in the middle of a meeting. That’s kinda why he hired a personal assistant.”
“To fetch his coffee?”
I shouldn’t even be surprised. It sounds exactly like something an entitled rich asshole would do. And honestly, I wouldn’t mind so much if it were Declan asking, but Ryann ?
The last thing I want to do is cater to the guy who jizzed on my face and then kicked me out like...like some kind of prostitute or something.
Now that I think about it, though, the five-hundred dollar tip he gave me seems highly suspicious.
Oh, my god, does he think I’m a prostitute?!
“Igs, it’s not that big of a deal,” Paige huffs, steering me toward the Café. “Just drinks and snacks. You’ve ordered food before. I’d go with you, but I need to get back to my desk. I’ll text you the drink orders, okay? Just swipe your badge to pay.”
I can’t even respond, still reeling from the embarrassment as I shuffle up to the counter in a daze.
“I like your pin,” says the barista, a younger guy with long blond hair tied back and a dimpled chin.
I glance down at the Horde logo from World of Warcraft on my shirt and blink at him, mumbling off the orders Paige sent me. When I get to Ryann’s, I scoff because, of course, a soulless jerk like him would drink his coffee black.
An idea has me grinning stupidly as I finish ordering, and once everything is ready, I make a mental note to bring my backpack tomorrow. Balancing eight cups of coffee on top of a doughnut box is a bit of a struggle. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, I manage to get it all up the elevator without spilling a drop.
But then I just stand there, bouncing my gaze between the door handle of Conference Room Delta and my full arms, wishing I had telekinesis like Jean Grey from X-Men because how am I supposed to open it?!
After a few seconds of deliberation, I set everything on the floor to open the door. When I do, eight pairs of eyes swing my way, including two familiar hazel ones. My cheeks burn as I pick up the coffees and set them on the table, keeping my gaze down.
“Everyone,” Declan clears his throat from where he stands next to the wall-length TV, “this is Shilo Reed, our new intern PA. He’ll be helping us out a few hours a week while he’s in school. Shilo, these are all of our department heads.”
There’s a chorus of hellos, and I nod awkwardly, hands shoved in my pockets. I’d hand out the coffees, but I don’t know anyone yet, so Ryann stands up from the head of the table to do it for me.
I try not to look at him. I really do. But when he steps close enough for me to smell his cologne, I can’t help but notice how nicely his dark grey suit clings to his tapered waist. Or how the material of his slacks stretches over those thick thighs that I grabbed onto when we—
Oh hell no, we are not doing this here.
“Shilo’s actually a student at UDub in their Computer Engineering program,” Ryann says to a woman with frizzy hair as he hands her a cup. “Maybe he’ll be one of yours soon.”
The woman raises her brows, smiling at me. “Oh, is that right? And how do you like it so far?”
It takes me a moment to form a response under all the attention. I shrug, fighting the urge to bite my freshly painted thumbnail. “It’s... fun.”
“Fun?” Her smile falters, and I immediately regret speaking.
“Programming is fun.” And safe. Computers never judge me for being weird or for how I look. Numbers and codes make sense. Unlike people, who confuse the ever-loving shit out of me.
Thankfully, Declan calls the meeting back to order, and Ryann tells me to take a seat, tossing a notepad and pen onto the table. I have no idea what I’m supposed to write, so I just jot down everything. Daily metrics, production goals—stuff I really don’t care about, but it keeps me focused. Apparently, they’re having issues with a new product launch. That’s how I learn the frizzy-haired woman is Liza, a Project Manager over the software developers.
Out of my peripheral, I catch Ryann grimacing at his coffee, and it takes everything in me not to laugh.
Hope you like ungodly amounts of sugar, asshole .
His hazel eyes flick up to mine, and I quickly drop my gaze to the doodle I’m drawing in the margins of my notes.
The meeting drags on for an hour, and when it finally ends, I gather up the empty cups to toss. Everyone filters out, including Declan, leaving me alone with Ryann, who pushes the nearly empty doughnut box across the table.
“Eat,” he demands, pointing to the last one.
I scowl down at the glazed doughnut. “That’s yours.”
Gabbing it, he huffs and shoves it into my hands. “I don’t do sweets. Eat the doughnut, Shilo.”
“I’m not a prostitute,” I blurt out, wincing at my own stupidity. Ducking my head, I stuff as much of the doughnut into my mouth as I can.
Ryann goes still, his broad shoulders tightening. We stand there in silence as I chew slowly, the weight of his stare pressing down on me. He waits until I swallow before speaking.
“Shilo. Look at me.”
Um, no .
As I move to eat the rest of the doughnut, his hand shoots out, pinching my chin and roughly tilting my face up to his.
“Where did that come from?” He asks, his eyes searching mine so intensely that I feel like ants are crawling on my skin.
“Y-you gave me five hundred dollars,” I stammer, heat rising under his touch. “And then we... and you... not that there’s anything wrong with sex work, but I’m not... I want to pay it back.”
I don’t know how, but I will. I’ll work for free if I have to—because no way am I selling the new disk drive I just bought.
Ryann stares at me for a long moment, jaw clenched. His dark hair catches the morning light from the window, looking soft, almost like raven feathers. I kind of want to touch it.
He seems to choose his next words carefully. “That money was just a tip for driving me home, Shilo. I don’t pay for sex.”
A small noise escapes my throat at his words, the reminder of what we did. His gaze darkens as it drops to my mouth.
“You’ve got frosting here,” he says thickly, swiping his thumb across my bottom lip. “Open.”
My jaw drops, and an electric jolt shoots straight to my groin when he presses the pad of his thumb against my tongue, the sticky-sweet flavor exploding on my taste buds. Instinctively, I close my lips around him and suck, drawing a deep, rumbling groan from his chest that shouldn’t sound that sexy.
But as quickly as it happens, it’s over. His thumb slides out of my mouth, and he steps back, leaving me feeling oddly empty. And embarrassingly hard.
Jesus, why does this always happen around him?!
He grabs my notebook and binder, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll show you to your work area.”
All calm and collected, cool as a frickin’ cucumber, while I subtly try to adjust myself the moment he turns his back.
What the hell just happened?
He holds the door open, waiting somewhat impatiently, cocking a brow when I just stand there, gaping.
Okay, then.
I try to keep some distance between us as I follow him down a hallway lined with glass windows showcasing the Seattle skyline. We pass multiple offices—some empty, some not—before he leads me to a small alcove with a counter-height desk in front of a bay window.
So many windows. So much glass.
“This is where you’ll sit most of the day,” he says, rounding the desk to show me how to log on. “After our morning meetings, you’ll enter the notes into this diary. The same process goes for any other meetings Declan and I have during your hours.”
I mutter a vague acknowledgment as he spends the next twenty minutes showing me how to work the systems. I’ll be managing their schedules, answering phones and emails, gathering office supplies—basically a glorified secretary and gofer.
Yippy.
“My office is here,” he points to the left, “and Declan’s is to the right. If you need anything urgently, use the work chat. Any questions?”
Clipped, precise, to the point. No-nonsense. Not even a hint of a smile.
I shake my head, climbing onto the chair, my legs dangling awkwardly. Ryann sweeps his gaze over me briefly before turning toward his office.
“Oh, and Shilo?” He glances back with a glare. “Tomorrow morning, I expect my coffee order to be correct.”
With that, he shuts the door behind him, and I don’t see him for the rest of my shift.
Finally, five long, boring days are over, and my first week is done. It wasn’t so bad, honestly—except for the phone calls. I hate talking on the phone, it’s weird not being able to see facial expressions. Makes me nervous.
Declan had a bunch of conference calls I had to notate. I guess he handles the financial side while his brother does...everything else. They’re so different for being twins, like night and day. They don’t even look alike.
Where Ryann is all hard edges and scowls, Declan’s softer—sunnier, with jokes and dimples. He had me run down to the Café for him multiple times this week, which I didn’t mind because he’s just so nice. He even offered to buy me lunch. Paige has only been dating him for a few months, but I get what she sees in him. I think he’ll be a good boss.
It’s his brother I’m going to have issues with.
Since Monday, I’ve done my best to avoid being alone with Ryann for more than a few seconds, running out of his office as soon as he finishes whatever task he gives me. Take notes, make copies, order office supplies, pick up his frickin’ dry cleaning—yeah, I’m still annoyed about that. The most exciting part was getting more filament for the 3D printer in his office, and I had to physically restrain myself from talking his ear off about it since I’ve got a small one at home.
“What are your plans for today?”
A voice startles me, and I turn from the maidenhair fern I’ve been studying in the lobby to see the Café barista grinning at me—the guy with long hair. It’s loose now, tumbling around his shoulders like sunshine. He’s been trying to talk to me all week, but I never know what to say, so I usually just shrug and escape.
But now he’s in my space, watching me like he’s expecting something. It takes me far too long to realize he’s waiting for a response.
My plans. He’s asking about my plans.
“Uh, homework,” I answer slowly, taking in his paint-splattered leggings and tight shirt.
His smile widens, bright eyes twinkling as he holds out his hand. “Hey, me too. Maybe we can do it together. I’m KC. Just the letters, like Kansas City.”
“That’s a weird name.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I brace myself for the inevitable offense as I shake his hand.
Only, it doesn’t come. He just laughs.
“I blame my parents. They weren’t very original. My brother’s name is DJ.”
I squint at him, suspicious. “Really?”
“Swear to God. And my little sister? Guess her name. Go on, guess.”
All I can do is shake my head, unsure what to make of him.
He grins, flashing white teeth. “Aribellianna.”
I just stare at him for a second, completely at a loss for words, before a snort of laughter escapes me—a real one that makes my stomach clench and my face scrunch. “That... is terrible.”
“I know.” He flops down next to me on the bench, our knees bumping, and I can’t help but marvel at him.
“Why so many letters for her, and so few for you?”
“At least mine’s easy to remember.” He nods toward the badge hanging from my lanyard. “But so is Shilo. I like it. It’s pretty.”
That comment catches me off guard. I tilt my head, feeling my cheeks heat as I look back at the fern. No one’s ever called my name pretty before.
KC continues, “So, what do you say? Wanna do our homework together?”
I glance up at him from behind my purple hair, frowning. “Like... at the same time? With each other?”
Like hanging out?
He laughs, reaching out to touch the pin on my shirt. “You’re too cute. Yes, with each other. And then maybe we can play some WoW or something.”
That’s... well, I haven’t done that in a long time. Hung out, I mean. With anyone other than my parents or Paige. I had a few friends back in elementary school, but then we moved constantly for Dad’s job until junior high, and... well, friends got hard to make after that.
I gaze at him as he fiddles with my pin, my thumbnail finding its way between my teeth. Doctor Iskar would want me to say yes.
But I did that last time, and what did it get me?
Covered in cum and a sore ass, that’s what.
Okay, but why does that not sound as bad as it should?
Sounds downright amazing, if you ask me—
Shut up, brain, no one asked you.
Gah, why is this so hard? I’ve never been this unsure about computers. They don’t have ulterior motives—they don’t have any motives, really, other than what I tell them to do.
I open my mouth, ready to say no thanks, when a deep voice straightens my spine.
“Shilo.”
Ryann stands a few paces away, arms folded, wearing that ever-present stony expression. It pisses me off.
“What?” The word comes out harsher than I intended, and his perfect brows jump while KC twiddles his fingers beside me.
“Hi, Ry,” KC says sweetly, almost flirtatiously. Ryann spares him a brief nod before those golden-green eyes lock back onto me.
“What are you still doing here?”
“Waiting for Paige to go on lunch,” I snap, and I don’t miss the way his lips tighten—like he doesn’t appreciate my tone.
Well, too bad. I’m off the clock, Boss, and you don’t need to know my business.
He nods, a crack forming in his composure as he runs a hand through his styled hair. “How did your first week go?”
KC bounces his gaze between us, some funny expression on his face, while I shrug and study my shoes.
“Fine.”
A beat passes. “Good. That’s good.”
And then he’s walking away, the soft thud of his dress shoes fading. I don’t look up until he’s gone.
KC whistles low, his eyes on Ryann’s back as he disappears into an office. “Well, that was interesting.”
“What was?”
His glittering eyes swing toward me. “I’m sensing some tension between you two.”
I blink, suddenly sweaty, wiping my palms on my pants. “No, no tension. Just, uh...” Quick, make something up . “I’ve gotten his coffee wrong all week. I think he’s mad about it.”
Okay, not quite a lie. He is pissed about that.
KC seems to accept it, nodding sympathetically. “Ah, yeah, that’ll do it. Ry’s a total coffee whore.”
His words make me choke on my spit, and I slap my chest, coughing as I stare at him, red-faced. “Why do you call him Ry?”
He shrugs, glancing furtively to the side. “He asked me to.”
Well, that’s... huh.
My fists clench when I think about how he told me to call him Ryann .
Asshole. And here I was, planning on getting his coffee order right on Monday.
“Igs!” Paige calls from her office, waving me over, and I turn back to KC, giving him an apologetic grimace.
“I’m kinda busy today, but, uh... rain check?”
I’m not. Not really. I just want to get my schoolwork done, work on my PC, and crash.
“Sure,” KC waves, flashing me a dazzling smile. “See you Monday, Shilo.”
Paige’s eyes widen as I step into her office. “Were you talking to the Café guy?”
“His name is Kansas City.”
She snorts, wrinkling her nose. “Well, I’m glad you made a friend.”
I glance back, about to agree, but KC’s no longer on the bench. He’s over by the elevator, stepping inside while Ryann guides him in with a hand on his lower back.
Something ugly burns in my stomach at the sight.
It sizzles, churning as I catch the look they share before the doors close, and I can’t eat the food Paige offers me. It’ll probably come back up anyway.
I don’t know if KC’s my friend or not, but something tells me he’s more than that to Ryann.
And I don’t like it.