Untamed (Hudson Yards)

Aaron

AARON

PROLOGUE

The night before

I glance down at my watch for what feels like the millionth time today. In just two hours, I’m set to meet a potential new business partner—a stranger I barely know. This venture pulls me into a world I should not be exploring, but if I want to reach the heights I’ve always dreamed of, I have to embrace the risk. This isn’t a choice I made lightly, and I keep reminding myself of that, hoping to quell the gnawing anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

Not anxiety. That shit doesn’t phase me.

It’s more like discomfort.

Since graduating high school and leaving Zoe behind in Boston, I've been running on nothing but pipe dreams in New York. And what do I have to show for it all these years later?

Becoming a high-end real estate agent in New York takes forever; you're one in a million, and you need disposable income to make a name for yourself. Besides, this business is essentially all word of mouth, and the people at the top tend to keep their circle pretty small. I want to sell the most sought-after properties to the filthy rich, and you need connection and money to do that. The problem is, my meager salary has me living paycheck to paycheck.

This business isn’t sustainable at its current state, so I’m forced to take a gamble. Risk everything and dive into total darkness. It’s just for a short period of time until I get to where I want to be.

No one has to know, and no one will know.

Just me and my future shady business partner.

One hour and fifty-eight minutes to go.

You’ve got this. You’ve always got this.

Thankfully, Dominik arrived just in time to be the best distraction. I took the afternoon off today to pick him up from the airport and help him move into my small two-bedroom apartment. He promised it would be temporary, until he has time to get settled and decide if he’s going to be staying with The New York Slashers hockey team.

Dominik and I have been friends since high school—the only person I still keep in touch with from my days in Boston, aside from my family. But Dom has always felt like a brother to me, knowing me better than anyone else. So when he called to say he was moving to New York after signing with the Slashers, I was thrilled. It meant we’d finally have the chance to catch up, to reminisce about a time when life seemed simpler and the weight of the world felt lighter.

Adjusting my collar, I straighten my suit as I approach the guest bedroom and knock lightly on the ajar door.

“You don’t have to knock,” Dom’s voice calls from inside the room. “This is your house.”

“I’m not going to risk walking in on you abusing yourself,” I say, pushing the door open to find him unpacking one of his bags, a massive grin plastered on his face.

“You wish.”

I roll my eyes.

“But all jokes aside, thanks again for letting me crash here. This place is nice. I’m glad to see you doing so well already.”

“Don’t mention it,” I reply, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s been slow, but that’s about to change.”

Dom pauses and looks up at me. “What do you mean?”

“Things are a bit tight, but I have to look the part if I want to be hired by high end clients. It’s all part of the game. You know how it is.” I force a smile, feeling like I might have said too much.

He doesn’t look convinced but lets it slide. “Well, I’ve got quite a bit saved up from hockey so I’m going to help, and if you need to blow off some steam, we could hit the gym or the ice sometime if you want.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“I don’t give a shit what you want.”

I sigh, just now realizing I’m going to have to share my space with this guy somehow. But I’m barely home as it is, thanks to my crazy schedule. Real estate agents don’t have a regular set of hours. I work non-stop and have to be available to answer new clients at all hours.

I can never turn off. It’s not how I work anyway. The work addiction keeps me out of trouble.

Although, blowing off steam doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

“We can fight about this later,” I say, checking my watch again.

Dom laughs and a half-open box across the room catches my attention.

“Actually, I have a meeting in a bit. Shouldn’t take too long. We can grab a late dinner after if you’re feeling up for it?”

I walk toward the box and flip the lid open.

“Meeting on a Friday night? Is it with a new buyer?”

“No. A potential business partner,” I say, grabbing the prop out of the box as I turn to face Dom. “Is this for what I think it is?”

His gaze flicks between the mask and my face, a smirk forming on his lips. “Maybe.”

The tag is still on the plastic goalie mask, which is why I hold on to it a bit longer to get a closer look. It’s scratched and splattered with fake blood. It looks like a costume piece from a Halloween store.

“Don’t tell me you’re still into this shit.”

Dom laughs, shaking his head. “Still kink shaming, ? So not cool man.”

“I’m not shaming. It’s just strange.”

Dom rolls his eyes. “We both know your kinks are worse than mine.”

I drop the plastic back into the box. “I’m not that guy anymore.”

That lie slipped out too easily.

He holds up his hands, palms out. The gesture is meant to placate me, but he ruins the effect with a shrug of his shoulders.

Dom is my closest friend. Although we don’t discuss our past or the indulgences we explore after dark, he’s the only one who can read me like an open book. He doesn’t judge me for my choices, yet he also doesn’t sugarcoat his thoughts or tell me what he thinks I want to hear. Instead, he offers a level of honesty that both challenges and reassures me, making our bond unbreakable despite the secrets we keep. And I know for a fact he’s got some heavy secrets.

Which is also why I feel like the biggest dick for lying to his face a second ago.

“Are you sure you’re not that guy anymore, ?” he quips, that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

“I’m too busy for that lifestyle anyway,” I retort, but there’s no heat in my words. Dom’s unchanging nature is what has always made him so reliable, comforting in a world that’s always shifting under my feet. A world I never truly felt like I belonged in until I decided to change who I was. To be in complete control of my actions, my life, and every outcome.

Everything is within reach and it’s in my control. I am the puppet holder and no one else. I’ll never give anymore the power to control me.

“You want to know what I think?”

“Not really.”

Dom walks over and picks up the mask, looking at me. “I think you should make time for the things you want. Sometimes, a little derailment is just what we need.”

He presses the prop back into my hands.

Looking into the empty eye sockets, I think about his words carefully. Giving them thought when I should be heading out for my meeting.

The distraction is unwarranted, especially now that I’m so close to securing everything I’ve worked for. I’m in complete control of myself—at least, I should be. But maybe I can have it both ways.

The answer is obvious, yet I choose to ignore it as my hand tightens around the mask. This meeting tonight—this business venture—is the perfect opportunity. It might be my only chance to indulge, even if just for one night. I could finally peek behind the door I’ve kept locked for so long.

My gaze zeroes in on Dom’s back as he continues to unpack his clothes, the rhythm of his movements grounding me in the moment.

And that’s when it hits me.

“Are you up for a little derailment yourself, Dom?”

He stops, his back muscles tensing up beneath his black T-shirt. He glances at me over his shoulder, a vicious smile already on his face.

“Always.”