Epilogue
One Year Later
Rue walked into the office and smiled when Ryker nodded at him. The Black Hart was on the phone, so Rue moved to the meeting room that was attached and began setting out the dinner he’d brought.
After Rhys had been pronounced dead, Ryker had inherited the majority shares of the company.
He’d been voted in as the next CEO and had taken on the role early, despite still being in school.
It was ridiculous, but that was the sort of planet they lived on.
The kind where money and power meant more than a degree or experience.
Maybe Ryker wanted to prove all the naysayers wrong, because he’d thrown himself into the job, proving time and time again that he was more than the perfect candidate for it. If nothing else, his father grooming him to take over was something he was grateful for.
“How was practice?” Ryker entered the meeting room, kissing Rue on the cheek before inspecting the food he was still laying out. “Why did you buy so much?”
“Practice was good.” Rue was working with an up-and-coming band on their first studio album and having the time of his life doing so.
Technically, he didn’t have to work, since he’d gotten the Vadim family fortune, but he’d always loved music, and with no one left to stand in his way or dictate his future, he’d been able to pursue a career in it.
“Did you forget? We’re meeting with the head of Glass Roof. ”
A new tech company had approached them recently about Ryder’s situation. They believed very strongly that they had a way of breaking him free from the game, and after some debate, Ryker had agreed to meet with them personally to discuss.
Of course, he was only comfortable doing so on his own turf, which was why that person was coming here, to Hart Holding HQ.
“Uriel should arrive soon as well,” Rue reminded. Since he’d experienced what it was like trapped inside a virtual world, they’d all thought having him present for the meeting was the wisest choice. It also wasn’t solely up to Ryker whether or not to accept the offered help.
The two of them might be twins, but Uriel was Ryder’s best friend, and he’d spent hundreds of years, and dozens of lifetimes, inside the game world with him.
One of them had woken, and the other had chosen to stay, but it was questionable whether or not Ryder was still doing so willingly, with a clear mental state of being.
By Uriel’s own accounts, the two of them had lost themselves in there, forgetting who they really were and where they’d come from.
It was understandable that Ryder had yet to find his way home, when there was a very real chance that he no longer remembered there even was a home for him to come back to.
“Do you still want to visit the cemetery tomorrow?” Ryker came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, forcing Rue to stop setting out the plastic dishes. “You always overeat when you’re anxious.”
Rue blew out a breath. “We should.”
The one-year anniversary of the day they’d escaped from the resort was coming up.
The press was all over the story, rehashing details of how a gas leak had taken out some of the planet’s most influential businessmen.
Pictures of the burned remains of the building, as well as photos of the deceased—including his mother and Ryker’s father—took up practically every news station.
No one ever mentioned Bowie. As far as the world was concerned, he’d died in the explosion along with everyone else, just a poor university student with his future cut short.
“Don’t make a decision like that for anyone else,” Ryker said. “If you don’t want to go, we won’t. It’s as simple as that.”
It really was, which was something Rue was still getting used to.
“We weren’t close,” Rue sighed, “but she was still my mom.”
“Okay.” Ryker rested his chin on the top of Rue’s head.
“That’s it?”
He shrugged.
“Do you want to go?” Rue asked.
“It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other,” Ryker replied. “No matter where I’m standing, Rhys Hart is still dead to me.” He let go and then eased Rue into one of the office chairs. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.” Not that Rue was opposed to a topic change. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Marriage?” Ryker stood next to him, seemingly not in a rush to dig in the way Rue was.
The Black Hart had been correct. Whenever he felt anxious, Rue tended to stress eat.
“Oh, who’s getting married?” Rue stabbed a small sausage with his fork and brought it to his lips. It shouldn’t matter if he started before the others arrived.
“We are.”
He choked.
Ryker quickly grabbed one of the water bottles on the table and twisted it open, bringing it to Rue’s mouth.
After a sip, he frantically wiped his lips off on his sleeve and swiveled in the chair to better face the Black Hart. “Can you repeat that?”
“I’m telling you we’re getting married,” Ryker said.
“You’re asking me that now?”
“First of all,” he leaned in, setting a palm at either side of Rue, blocking him in, “I’m not asking.
That implies you have the opportunity to reject me, which you do not.
Second of all, seeing as how you’ve been the one clearing out the fridge and jumping me the second I walk through the door every night this past week, now seems like the perfect time. ”
There was no point in denying it, because Rue had in fact been doing those things.
Sometimes, when he thought back on what they’d experienced in the lodge, he was filled with an overwhelming surge of energy, and the only way to rid himself of it was by getting his boyfriend to pound it out of him.
With his cock.
Ryker must have noticed things had gotten worse the closer to the anniversary they came.
Of course he had. He always noticed everything about Rue, half the time sooner than Rue did himself.
“My therapist says using sex as escapism isn’t healthy,” Rue said.
“Your therapist is correct.” Ryker nipped the tip of his nose playfully, laughing when Rue pulled back and glared. “But I don’t mind. Use my body whenever you need. That’s the perk of being my fiancé.”
“Made me your fiancé pretty quick,” Rue drawled. “You’re seriously not going to ask me? Not even for the sake of being romantic?”
Ryker tilted his head. “I just told you I’ll fuck you whenever you want me to. That isn’t romantic enough for you?”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Hopelessly in love with you.”
Rue openly cringed. “Yeah. No. You were right. Screw the cheesy cliché romance. We’re better without it.”
“I agree.”
The intercom set in the center of the long table beeped and a second later Ryker’s secretary’s voice filled the room. “Mr. Hart, your nine pm meeting has arrived.”
“Show him in, Freya.” The Black Hart straightened, but didn’t move away.
“What?” Rue asked.
“For the sake of romance,” Ryker said, “you will, won’t you?”
“What?” He played dumb. “Marry you?”
Ryker’s eyes narrowed. “Little brother.”
“First of all.” Rue stood, planting a palm against the center of his chest, shoving him back a full step. “I’m not your brother. Second of all,” his arms went around Ryker’s neck as he moved into him, “Yeah, Ryk. I’ll marry you.”
Ryker’s mouth found his, tongue darting out to encourage him to open for him. The kiss was every bit as frantic and charged as it always was between them, the air in the room going from comfortable to way too cloying in a matter of seconds.
At some point, Rue processed the sound of a door opening and heels clicking against the floor. Then there was a murmur and a man cleared his throat.
Rue ignored him.
So did Ryker.
Whoever it was could wait.
When it was just the two of them, nothing else mattered.
They preferred it that way.