8. Ryann
Ryann
W iping the sweat from my brow, I dribble the basketball, slipping past Declan to toss it from the free-throw line. It bounces off the backboard, and Declan snickers. I shoulder-check him hard as I jog past to grab the ball, irritation coiling tight in my chest, fueled by weeks of pent-up energy.
It’s been three days since the cock-warming incident, and I’ve been on edge, waiting for HR or Paige to show up and march me out of the building. So far, things have been quiet.
Too quiet.
Miraculously, my schedule has been wide open, Shilo assigning every meeting to Declan. I should be happy about this—it’s what I wanted, after all. Instead, I’m annoyed by it. My PA has been avoiding me at all costs, and it bothers me. Fucking hell.
Did he not like it? Did he feel pressured?
The way those blue eyes had widened as a blush darkened his pretty skin flashes across my mind. He’s so damn responsive to me. Too perfect. Too tempting.
Maybe it’s for the best that we avoid one another, but…I don’t want to.
“What’s got that irritated look on your face, man?” Declan laughs, grabbing the ball after I miss another shot. His wild curls drip with sweat as he leaps away. “You’re playing like shit today.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
We’ve been going for hours now, aggressively pushing each other on the court after a grueling workout, and I’m still strung tighter than a bowstring. I need to fuck. Or drink. Either sounds great right now. Or both. Anything to get my mind off the dinner coming up in a couple of weeks, where our father will make his big announcement. The one Declan is entirely unaware of but will change the course of our relationship, for better or worse.
I’m betting on the latter.
“Okay, that’s it,” he breathes, dropping the ball to place his hands on his knees, panting heavily. “I’m done. You’ve worn me out, and I still have to get ready for my date tonight.”
Right. It’s Halloween.
I scoff, picking up the ball to take another shot, this one making it into the net. I’m not as well-trained as I was in college, but I keep myself sharp. The coach for the Adult Basketball League has been pestering me to join his team for years, but when would I have the time? Work consumes me. Maybe tonight would be the perfect opportunity to get laid—it’s been a few weeks. “Where are you going?”
“Some club Paige is dragging me to. Not my original plan, but her brother’s going too, and she wants to keep an eye on him.”
That has me missing my next shot. “Shilo?”
“The one and only,” he chuckles, pulling off his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his face. “And that barista from downstairs, KC. I guess he and Shilo have hit it off.”
My grip tightens on the ball until my knuckles ache. I’ve noticed they’ve been getting chatty, but hitting it off ? I didn’t know they were that close. KC can get super handsy, and the thought of him touching Shilo just…well, it makes me want to break something.
The ball flies out of my hands as Declan smacks it away. “No.”
“No, what?”
He gets in my face, finger jabbed into my chest. “You leave that boy alone, Ry. He needs friends his own age.”
“Christ, you make it sound like we’re old men,” I growl, shoving him back. “He’s a legal adult.”
“I know that look on your face, and I’m telling you that nothing good can come from this,“ Dec warns, narrowing his eyes at me. “He’s your subordinate.”
“Pot, meet fucking kettle. How many of our employees have you slept with?”
He smacks his lips. “None since I started dating Paige, thank you very much.”
“Between you and Dad, we might as well send out a monthly NDA with the company newsletter, I swear.”
“Hey, the horndog bug bit us both, or did you forget that I know about your weekend sexcapades downtown?”
“Just tell me what club you’re going to,” I sigh in frustration, eyes aimed at the beamed ceiling.
Declan purses his lips stubbornly. “No.”
Fine. I throw him a glare and pull out my phone, thumbing a text to KC.
Me:
What club are you and Shilo going to tonight?
His response is almost immediate.
KC:
Well, hello Ry. Long time no text. I’ve missed you.
Me:
The club, KC.
KC:
I love it when you’re bossy. We’re going to Kintsugi, they’re having a costume party.
Kintsugi. Not my usual scene, but I’ve been there. They have a VIP section, themed drinks, and a decent-sized dance floor. Not that I usually go there for dancing—unless we’re counting the horizontal kind.
Me:
What are you wearing?
KC:
Right now? Nothing. Wanna see? ;)
Heaving a sigh, I ignore him and shove my phone back into my shorts pocket. We were only together a handful of times, but even though I ended it months ago, KC’s still pushing. I should’ve known better.
“What costumes are you wearing to Kintsugi?” I ask Declan, smirking when he stops mid-sentence, gaping at me.
“How did you—“ He stops himself, waving it off with a huff. “Never mind. It’s a Marvel vs. DC theme, so Paige is dressing as Catwoman, and I’m Batman.”
“Very original.” I frown, thinking about where the hell I’ll get a costume on such short notice.
“Ry,” Declan steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder, his green eyes—so much like Mom’s—searching mine. “Why do you even want to go? And be honest. I know when you’re lying.”
I stare at him, trying to come up with an answer. The truth is, I don’t know. Shilo confuses me. That shy innocence he radiates like sunshine draws me in. I want it. And yeah, the idea of anyone else seeing that side of him—the side I saw in my condo—sets me off.
“Oh, shit,” Declan whispers, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What?”
He pulls his lips back, shaking his head incredulously. “You like the boy.”
“So what if I do?” Shaking him off, I spin around and head toward the locker room. “Both you and Dad are dating employees. Why does everyone make a fuss when I decide to do it?”
“ Dating being the keyword there, bro,“ he follows close on my heels. “You don’t date. You mess around and use people, then throw them away when you’re done. And this is my girlfriend’s baby brother we’re discussing here.”
I rear back, turning to glare at him because ouch. After the history we’ve had, those words burrow deep.
He holds up his palms. “I’m not judging you. Just stating facts. Thirty-seven years I’ve known you, and you’ve never so much as had a single boyfriend. Only fuck buddies and one night stands.”
“And that’s not about to change,” I find myself saying, entering the locker room to tug off my shirt. “I just…want to make it right, what happened between us. He thought I paid him for sex, Declan.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I know.” Grabbing my gym bag, I head toward the showers. “So, just let me try and fix this, alright? Fix it my way.”
He quiets momentarily, both of us taking shower stalls next to each other as we scrub up.
“Okay. I understand, but Ry…just don’t break it more than it’s already been broken.”
I have no response to that because I can’t promise shit.
All I’ve ever done is take people apart, but who’s to say this time won’t be different?
Maybe the longer I lie to myself, the more I’ll believe it.
Kintsugi is a nightclub in the industrial district, housed in a renovated warehouse across from a boatyard. Even with the relentless downpour, the line to get in stretches around the corner, the thumping bass echoing off the steel surroundings as searchlights sweep the stormy sky.
I tip the bouncer and slip inside, bypassing the line. Paige and Declan are already here, somewhere up on the mezzanine overlooking the dance floor, where—according to my brother—Shilo is currently planted dead center. I have no idea what costume he’s wearing, and Declan hadn’t known either. But I know KC’s dressed as Harley Quinn, so I search for that first, even though it feels like half the crowd has chosen the same outfit.
Fuck.
I don’t even know what I plan to do when I find them. I just want to get Shilo away from the grinding, groping sea of bodies moving around me. After several minutes of futile searching, I give up and head to the bar, ordering a whiskey neat. The burn is smooth, warming me as I sweep the room again, eyes scanning for a flash of purple hair.
The costumes are typical: Spidermans, Supermans, a few Poison Ivys, and Captain Americas scattered throughout the crowd. Strobe lights flash overhead, illuminating veins of gold snaking up the deep blue walls, glitter flecking the floor like shards of broken glass. Tassels hang from the ceiling, and the air is thick with smoke and the unmistakable scent of marijuana. Private rooms line the back, an area I’ve grown familiar with over the years.
The thought of Shilo inside one of those rooms with KC—or anyone—has me grinding my molars. It’s irrational, I know. But I can’t stop the simmering rage that flares every time I think about it. After searching for another twenty minutes, I give in and head toward the private rooms, forcing my way through the crowd.
Then I spot him. A shorter figure in a black and white checkered bodysuit, purple hair, masked in white. It’s a character I’ve never seen before. KC dances next to him, dressed in tight shorts and a crop top that reads Daddy’s Little Monster. He’s shaking his ass while Shilo stands mostly still, bobbing his head, but he’s clearly uncomfortable. Without thinking, I shove my way through the crowd, stopping right in front of him, his face still tilted toward the floor.
KC presses into my side, shouting over the music. “Well, don’t you look sexy.”
Shilo’s head snaps up, and I’m momentarily stunned at the cracked doll mask covering his face, like he’s reached right into my head and brought my nightmares to life.
“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask, my voice catching in my throat as my hands find his waist.
He tenses, standing on his tiptoes to answer. “Rag Doll. My favorite DC villain. Who’re you?”
His words are slurred, muffled beneath the mask, and I pull back with a frown. “Are you drunk?”
“S’what if I am?”
KC sidles up behind Shilo, trapping him between us. “He only had two shots. Guy’s a lightweight.”
My jaw tightens as I lift the mask, revealing wide, unfocused blue eyes blinking up at me. “You didn’t eat today, did you?”
He scoffs, dropping his gaze. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“I beg to differ.” Grabbing his chin, I hold him in place, our noses nearly touching. “Who do you think signs your paychecks?”
“But I haven’t even gotten paid yet,” he mumbles, scrunching his face in confusion.
Exasperated, I roll my eyes and tug him toward the stairs. He latches onto KC, dragging him along, and the three of us push through writhing bodies up to the mezzanine, where it’s mercifully less crowded.
“What’s going on?” Paige and Dec suddenly appear, both looking a hot mess, hair mussed and lips red like they’ve been devouring each other.
“Your brother needs to eat if he’s going to continue drinking,” I bite out as I pass, making my way to the VIP booths, where I all but shove Shilo into a seat.
Everyone else piles in when I leave to order bottle service, and I have to force myself in between KC and Shilo upon returning. I can feel Paige’s eyes narrow in my direction, but I ignore her, turning in my seat instead to face the boy next to me whose delicate features are twisted into a grimace.
“Why Rag Doll?” I ask, watching as he stares down at the mask on his lap.
“He’s…misunderstood,” Shilo answers with a small shrug. “Not the original, but his son. And non-binary. I don’t know, I’ve just always liked the character.”
I tilt my head, processing that information as the cocktail waitress appears, and I order myself another whiskey as well as some cheese fries for Shilo.
He blinks up at me, brows furrowing. “What about Kansas?”
“What?”
Pointing over my shoulder, he gestures to KC, who wiggles his fingers while my brother smirks from the other side of the booth.
“I’m pretty famished myself,” Declan chuckles, looking ridiculous in a Batman suit next to Paige’s dominatrix-worthy Catwoman costume. She’s still eyeing me warily, so I order food and drinks for everyone just to get them off my back.
KC loops his arm with mine, grinning as he taps my thick-rimmed glasses. “So, who are you supposed to be, Ry?”
“Clark Kent. Can’t you tell?”
In an instant, my vision blurs as my glasses are lifted off my face, and I turn to see Shilo slide them on.
“Are these real?” He snorts, squinting around the dark booth. “Wow, you’re really blind, Mr. Callahan.”
Declan chokes on his beer as Paige barks out a laugh, and I have to force myself to breathe.
“It’s Ryann,” I growl, plucking my glasses off his face, “and I’m well aware, thank you.”
“You’d think someone as rich as you could afford lasik.”
An edge to his tone has me lifting a brow, wishing he’d meet my eyes instead of focusing them on everything else.
“Oh, no,” KC interjects, leaning over to address my broken doll. “If Ry ever got rid of the glasses, I’d riot. They make him look sexy.”
Fuck off, KC.
Paige knocks her knuckles on the table, drawing our attention as she points between us. “So, are you two a thing?”
Shilo tenses as KC’s lips roll inward, and I unloop my arm from his.
“No. KC’s just a friend who has no semblance of personal space.”
He smiles apologetically, twirling a strand of hair around his fingers while the cocktail waitress arrives with our orders. I turn back to Shilo, intending to ensure he eats, when he reaches across my lap and snags KC’s drink like a brat.
Bringing the straw to his mouth, he sucks on it with a glance at me from under his lashes, an innocent gesture that shouldn’t tempt me as much as it does. He drains the entire glass, licking his lips when he’s done, and I take it from him before replacing it with the basket of fries.
“I’m not hungry—“ he starts to complain, but I cut him off by shoving a fry between his teeth.
“I don’t care.”
Paige makes a noise as Shilo glares at me, chewing and swallowing with clear reluctance. I’m about to offer him another fry when he slaps my hand away and begins feeding himself, a flush creeping up his neck. I want to run my hand through his soft strands and praise him, but I hold back, not wanting to risk a kick in the balls from his older sister. Next time he refuses to eat, though, I’ll make sure he does, Paige be damned.
I’m not oblivious. I’ve noticed how he avoids food, skipping breakfast at work and guzzling water like his life depends on it. I don’t know if Paige has picked up on it, but I have—and I’m not letting it slide. He’s my employee, my responsibility.
“So, I hear you’re having troubles with AVA,” Paige says, smiling innocently as she bites into a burger, and I shift my gaze over to my brother’s very guilty-looking face.
“Now I wonder where you could have heard that.”
Declan groans, throwing his head back. “Can we not mix business and pleasure, please?”
“What’s AVA?” KC looks between us, and I glare at Dec as I steal one of Shilo’s fries.
“Something our developers are working on that we’re keeping under wraps for now.”
“Ah, top secret. Gotcha.”
Paige hums, giving her boyfriend a smirking sideways glance. “So the rumors that we’re unveiling a new product at IntelliCon in January aren’t true?”
“Fucking better be,” Declan mutters into his food. “All the overtime hours we’ve spent getting this shit ready—“
“Declan!” I snap, warning him with my eyes to keep his fucking mouth shut. He simply grins around his beer.
“What’s wrong with it?” Shilo’s quiet voice draws my attention, and I turn to see him chewing on a nail, food more than half-eaten.
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,” I tell him, pressing my whiskey glass to his mouth.
He stiffens as he takes a sip, eyes darting up to mine, the color leeching from his lips as he dips his head. Mumbling something about needing to use the restroom, he slips from the booth, and I watch him go with a frown.
Have I said something?
KC continues to press about AVA, momentarily distracting me as Declan and I argue back and forth over what we can and cannot disclose. Paige finds it highly amusing, bouncing her brown eyes between us while her and KC giggle like teenagers.
It takes me far too long to realize that Shilo isn’t back yet. A heavy feeling settles in my gut as I make my way to the bathroom, chest tightening. As soon as I step inside, I’m hit with the smell of vomit, and boiling anger has me clenching my fists until my knuckles turn white.
There’s only one stall, which is shut tight, plus three other urinals, and two of them are occupied. I go about my business, taking a piss and washing my hands while I wait for the other men to leave.
When the bathroom is finally empty, I pound on the stall door, Shilo’s familiar yelp bouncing off the walls.
“H-hang on, I’m almost finished,” he chokes, a sniffle from his nose making me bite the inside of my cheek.
He barely has the door cracked before I shove it open, crowding into the stall before slamming it shut and throwing the lock.
“What are you doing?!” He shouts angrily, falling onto the toilet as my body takes up most of the space, and I lean back against the door with my arms folded.
“I think the question is, what are you doing?“ I glare at him, watching his frantic gaze bounce around the stall. “How long has this been going on?”
The bridge of his nose wrinkles, his hair a mess, far too cute for the discussion we’re about to have. “What do you mean?”
A sharp breath leaves my nostrils as I count to ten slowly, reigning in my temper. This boy has been testing all my limits over the last three weeks, and I’m ten seconds from snapping. “The vomiting, Shilo. And the binge eating, followed by a lack of appetite. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your suspicious absence every time I’ve seen you take a bite of something.”
“Y-you...” His face scrunches, small hands fisting at his sides as his face turns bright red. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”
“Don’t lie to me. This is the second time I’ve caught you throwing up in a bathroom.”
He scoffs, swallowing as he focuses his gaze somewhere to my left. “Maybe it’s you who makes me puke, did you ever think of that?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out, somewhat stunned by the words he just said. An uncomfortable feeling claws its way up my throat, talons digging deep until they draw blood, and the stall suddenly feels too small for the air punching out of both our lungs.
A group of guys filter into the bathroom, loudly rambunctious as they use the urinals, and I keep my eyes on Shilo until they finish up. He still won’t look directly at me, studying the paint chipping on his nails instead, and I’m reminded of the smile he gave me in the car that first night we’d met. There’d been an unguarded softness that’s no longer present, and it kills me that I’m the reason for its absence.
“Doll, listen,” I start once we’re alone, and his eyes snap up to clash with mine.
“Don’t call me that,” he nearly snarls, catching me off guard once again with this new display of teeth. “I’m not...not a doll. And I’m not pretty . I’m not anything, so stop with the names and just call me Shilo. Or Reed, like everyone in school does.”
That has me tilting my head, brows knitting together with a frown. “You don’t like it when I call you doll?”
A beat passes before he answers.
“No.” He suddenly deflates, wrapping his arms around himself as he whispers so low I barely hear. “I like it too much.”
I push off the door in an instant, reaching down to cup his face between my palms. “Shilo, listen to me. What happened between us back in August was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened as it did, and I’m sorry if my actions made you feel anything less than the gorgeous boy you are.”
There . I said it. It’s done.
So why is the guilt still eating me alive?
And why does he still look so broken?
How do I fix this?
Shilo licks his lips, wrapping cold fingers around my wrists. “If you think I’m so gorgeous, then why did you kick me out like I was nothing?”
God, and that just…
Guts me.
Fucking spills my insides onto the floor as I let my hands drop away from him, not missing how he tries to cling onto my fingers, a small noise leaving his mouth.
This is why I don’t do relationships. Why I don’t get involved, and why I definitely don’t mess around with baby gays. Feelings make shit complicated. With the type of life I lead—a demanding workload, and an even more demanding father—a complicated love life is the last thing I need.
“I’m not a good person, Shilo,” I sigh, leaning back against the door once again. “I could tell you that I was having a rough night after receiving some bullshit news, that I was wasted, that I’d worked eighty hours in one week. All of it would be true, but it’s not an excuse because the truth is, that’s just who I am. You asked me that night if I found what I’d been looking for at the bar, and I’d told you no, remember?”
His brows furrow as he nods, fingers twitching where they rest in his lap.
“Sex is something I use as a...release. A way to unwind after a long week. I’d been looking for a hookup, and you happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”
It’s harsh and cruel, but the truth usually is.
Shilo tilts his head, blue eyes searching my face. “Is that what you’re doing with Kansas?”
“Who?”
“KC,” he waves his hand impatiently, and I stiffen out of instinct.
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. Just guessed.”
Forcing myself to relax, I choose the truth instead of a lie. “I was, but I ended it months ago.”
“Why?”
Releasing a breath, I let my head fall back against the stall door. “Because I couldn’t give him what he wanted.” Honestly, I’d been a little sad to let him go. KC’s quite bendy and actually entertaining once you get past that irritating personality, but he started asking for more . Wanting to stay the night, have sex in my bed instead of on the couch—which I never do—and touch in public. Intimacy. “Things that just aren’t in my nature to provide.”
Shilo seems to understand, nodding slowly as he lifts his thumb to his mouth, features far off and pensive.
“Do you...” He starts to speak but loses his nerve, dipping his head while muttering something under his breath. All I catch is the word ‘ frickin ‘.
“Just spit it out, Shilo,” I bark, no patience tonight, and he glares up at me from under his hair.
“Maybe we could...help each other,” he says, once again shifting his gaze around the stall, and my brows slam down.
“Help each other, how?”
“Well, you need to get off, don’t you?”
I don’t answer, choosing instead to wait and see where the hell he’s going with this because I’ve lost the plot.
He smacks his lips, flinging a hand at me. “You definitely do because you’re grumpy.”
“Maybe I’d be happier if my paid intern actually got my coffee right every morning.”
“Irrelevant.” Chewing his thumb, he bounces his head from side to side as he picks apart whatever he’s trying to say in his brain. “I’m not...confident in myself or my body. The kids in school were jerks, and...well, anyway. Maybe you can help me see myself the way you do?”
Trying to follow along, I gaze at him for a few perplexed moments. “The way I see you? Pretty?”
He nods slowly, wringing his fingers together.
“And how would I do that?”
“By...” Shilo stalls again but shakes himself out of it and pushes forward. “By getting each other off...together?”
Now, that was the last thing I’d expected to come out of his mouth.
Consider me speechless because, for my life, I cannot think of a single answer to that proposition.
We stare at each other, music thumping from the club around us, and even though I can see his pulse running wild on the side of that slender neck, Shilo doesn’t drop my gaze.
Just as I think of a response, the door to the bathroom opens, and Declan’s voice calls for me.
“Hey, Ry? You in here?”
“Aye,” I shout, my voice rough like gravel as I take in the boy in front of me, all soft skin and tender bones.
“Have you seen Shilo? We thought he had gone to the bathroom, but he wasn’t in the other one. Paige is losing her marbles.”
My jaw tenses as I swallow thickly. “He’s right here.”
And offering himself to me on a silver fucking platter.
A beat passes before Dec sighs heavily. “What the fuck am I supposed to tell his sister?”
“Tell her I got sick,” Shilo squeaks, clearing his throat. “Ry...uh, Mr. Callahan was just helping me through it.”
A scoff answers back. “Yeah, alright. Helping you with his dick, maybe.”
“Get the fuck out, Declan,” I growl, ten seconds away from leaving the stall to kick his ass.
Once the bathroom door snicks shut, I kneel down, gripping Shilo’s thighs tightly in my hands.
“Do you understand what you’re asking, Shilo? What you want from me?”
His throat flexes as he squirms under my touch. “Just sex. Right?”
“And only sex. No dates, no cuddling, no cutesy good morning and goodnight texts. Just one or two good fucks a week, and that’s it. I don’t think you can handle that.”
He rears back, lips curling over his teeth when he shoves me away. “I can handle whatever the hell I say I can. I’m shy, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak. You don’t frickin’ know me.”
Well, shit. Consider me put in my fucking place.
My mouth twitches as I fight a smile, raising my palms in surrender. “You’re right. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page if we’re going to do this.”
Crossing his arms, Shilo squints, pursing those pretty pink lips. “Just don’t treat me like a trash can afterwards, and we’ll be fine.”
With a wince, I lift to my feet, reaching down to offer him my hand. “I think I can agree to those terms.”
As I pull him up, he stiffens, blue eyes flying wide. “W-wait, are we starting right now?”
I give him a blank look. “You just puked, and your sister is probably waiting right outside that door, so I’d say no.”
“Ah.” He bobs his head, stepping out to the sink. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s a real boner killer.”
Yes, and probably my killer when she finds out what I plan on doing with her little brother.
“Tomorrow, come to my condo around eight. I’ll text you the address and the gate code in case you forgot.”
Everything about this is wrong. I’m his boss, sixteen years older, and my brother is dating his sister. He’s young and inexperienced. There are so many red flags being raised, but fuck if I can bring myself to say no. Because I’m a selfish bastard, and the memory of Shilo’s tight little hole stretching around my cock has been replaying in my head for weeks.
Fuck, what have I just gotten myself into?