Page 4 of Angel Boy
"I'm glad you remember that," he purrs, "because some days I'm almost positive you act like I'm not."
I swallow hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral even though every instinct is telling me to get the fuck out of this room. "I should get back to Angel if there isn't anything you needed from me... sir."
The word tastes like ash in my mouth, but I force it out through gritted teeth.
Ryker pushes to his feet with fluid grace, straightening his already perfect suit jacket. "You see, Ididcall you for something. I'm sure Carter let it slip that I hired you after I told him in the board meeting this morning, but do you know why?"
I stay silent, waiting for whatever game he's about to play.
"You've always worked for me—well, the company, but I saw the way Angel took to you in a way he didn't take to anyone else, brother. You shielded him from the worst of the comments when he first started, and I just knew you'd be perfect for him."
There's something in his tone that makes my skin crawl, like he's discussing a particularly clever business strategy instead of talking about a person's wellbeing.
"However," he continues, moving closer, "then I realized there was something more. And I knew that you would protect him regardless of your own feelings, because that's what Alphas do, right? You wouldn’twillinglydo anything against my rules. It was a match made in heaven."
My hands clench into fists at my sides. "Thank you for the opportunity." God, there are so many things I want to say to this bastard right now, but I temper down my anger and emotions for the sake of my professional image.
Ryker’s grin widens. "However, there was just one stipulation in your contract. That you were to keep your hands off the product."
"Angel is more than a fucking product," I snap at him before I can stop myself. The words come out harsher than intended, but I'm past caring. "And he might look like he's thriving out there, but he needs his Alpha."
Ryker moves closer, invading my personal space with predatory confidence. His hand comes up to gently grab my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes, and every muscle in my body tenses.
"And you're thinking that you're his Alpha, right?"
I step back, instantly breaking the contact and putting distance between us. Had this been a few years ago, I would have thrown an uppercut to his jaw and watched him stagger back from the force. I’ve always been stronger than him, one of the few things I’ve been able to rely on, but here, in this professional setting, I can’t do much else than stand here and fight Ryker with words. "Respectfully, sir, you are his Alpha. And your Omega needs you."
If I didn’t feel the need to protect Angel, I would never take Ryker’s disrespect, and fuck, I would never call himsir.
Ryker bursts out laughing. "Angel doesn't need me. He needs attention, and I've given him the very best platform for it. If he's a good boy, he won't ask for more than that. And if you're a good little soldier, you won't touch what's mine."
The way he says "good boy" makes bile rise in my throat. I nod stiffly, every word feeling like a knife twist in my gut, my jaw so tight I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. I move toward the door, desperate to get out of this suffocating room before I do something that gets me fired—or worse.
The smart thing would be to keep my mouth shut and get the fuck out of here, but something about Ryker's casual dismissal of Angel's well-being has my blood boiling.Just leave it alone,I tell myself, but every Alpha bone in my body won’t let me do that. Even if Angel isn’t mine, I can’t help trying to protect him.
"If you knew Angel was your scent match, why did you wait almost three years to reveal yourself to him?" I push out, my hand on the doorknob. I twist back around to face Ryker, hating the smug smile on his face.
Ryker adjusts his cufflinks as he shrugs with a kind of careless indifference. "I wasn't ready to be tied down until PR mentioned that I needed to soften my image. It's amazing how these things all worked out. You got to have your fun, brother," Rykercontinues with that same cold smile, "and now I get to have mine."
Fun. That's what three years of Angel's life meant to him. A convenient delay while he figured out his public image strategy. The man I've watched pour his heart and soul into every performance, who lights up rooms just by existing, who makes terrible jokes at two in the morning, has been reduced to timing and market research.
"Come this time next year, that Omega will be at home where he belongs, scoring a few modeling and brand deals, but no longer on that stage. That body should only be for his mate, don't you think?"
The possessiveness in his voice makes my stomach turn. Angel loves performing, or at least, he used to before all this corporate bullshit started sucking the life out of him. The idea of caging him up in some suburban mansion and cutting him off from the thing that makes him feel alive is fucking obscene.
I know I'm pushing boundaries that could get me blacklisted from the industry, but I push forward anyway. "I think that should be Angel's choice, not his Alpha's. But I am not his mate. Excuse me."
I leave the room before he can respond, before I say something that'll really get me in trouble. I have some leeway as Ryker’s brother, but it’s not a very long tether. However, now I’m focused on the fact that Ryker let Angel and I get close during the three years he was doing whatever the fuck he was doing.
I’m not sure I can hate the guy any more than I already do.
Moving back toward the stage, I catch the last few seconds of Angel’s finishing set, his shoulders immediately sagging like the weariness of the evening hit him all at once the moment he stepped behind the curtain.
It's heartbreaking to watch the way he transforms from confident performer to exhausted man in the span of seconds.The careful makeup can't quite hide the dark circles under his eyes, and there's a fragility to his movements that makes me worry. I’ll bring up calling the doctor when I get Angel alone.
He manages a small smile when he sees me, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Hey, how'd I do?"
"Perfect as always, Angel." And I mean it. Even half-dead on his feet, even going through the motions instead of feeling the music, his energy is still magnetic.
