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Understatement of the century. Hurt would be more accurate. And he wouldn’t even let me explain.

I’m about to head toward Paige to find out where my little doll has gone when my phone buzzes in my pocket, a text lighting up the screen.

Dollface:

I have a question.

My heart thuds when I read his message, and I turn away to type out a response.

Me:

Where the hell did you go?

Dollface:

Can I come?

Can he…

Glancing sideways to ensure Ronin’s attention is elsewhere, I excuse myself to the restroom.

Dollface:

Please?

Me:

No. Where are you?

The only thing he sends me is a picture of the Seattle skyline from a window, and the familiar sight has me stopping dead in my tracks, eyes bugging out at the screen.

Me:

How the fuck did you get into my father’s office, Shilo?

His following text is a photo of his very hard cock, dripping precum, and my own jumps to full attention. Jesus Christ.

He’s in so much fucking trouble.

Me:

Stay where you are, and do not touch yourself.

Dollface:

…too late :(

Oh, I don’t think so.

Quickly marching to the elevator, I scan my badge on the panel and put in a code that takes me up to the Tower. How Shilo was even able to get up there is a mystery because only four people in the entire building know that code: me, Declan, Dad, and…

And Paige.

Goddamn brat.

The ascent takes ages. By the time the elevator doors open, I’m aching. My cock is begging for some friction, so I palm it over my pants and make my way through a lounge toward the open office door.

Stepping inside, I’m greeted by the sight of Shilo sitting in my father’s chair. The faint light filtering through the windows casts soft shadows across his face, purple strands falling into his eyes as his arm moves beneath the massive mahogany desk. He doesn’t notice my presence, so I cross my arms and lean against the doorway, sweeping my gaze over the familiar room that never fails to put me on edge.