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“I don't give a shit about that!”
Harris hesitates for a moment, then taunts Rian with all the poison he can muster, “I'll take Bran away from you!”
“Why? You don’t give a shit about him! You don’t care to raise him. He means nothing to you! You hated Cynthia. You still do.”
“Because if I can’t have you on your knees, serving as my loyal pet for the rest of your life, I will make damn sure you never get to be with Bran. I’ll take the one thing in your life you truly care about, and then I’ll proceed to destroy everything around you. Anyone who tries to help you – they better fucking get ready. I always get what I want. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll fucking wish you were dead.”
Rian’s heart hammers in his chest. He’s frantically trying to calculate exactly how great the risk of that happening really is.
Rian had officially adopted Bran, on his own weeks after he had come into their lives. It was a quiet affair and Harris had simply stated he was already his uncle so there was no need for him to be on the birth certificate. At the time Rian was sure the real reason behind it was much pettier – something like not wanting Cynthia’s son to be technically his firstborn. Or that God forbid, Bran really is his only child and got his hands on his money, or precious company.
Harris knows Bran is the most important person in Rian’s life and of course, he should have anticipated he will use his child to manipulate him.
“So what? It's a sex tape, who cares,” Rian says weakly. But even he knows how bad this can go down. Harris could utterly destroy him, and in combination with his army of lawyers, he could blow this completely out of proportion. Rian would be lucky if he ever saw Bran again from afar. God only knows what Harris would even do to him once Rian was out of the picture.
His husband looks on as Rian’s confidence unravels, a satisfied smirk growing wider on his face. Rian bites his lower lip, trying to suppress a plea. Trying and failing.
“Don’t do this,” Rian mutters, his voice trembling.
Harris warns him, with renewed confidence “Think carefully about your next move. August Duncan is a very old man. He lives all by himself, I’m told.”
“Don’t threaten him.” Rian whispers, horrified.
“I’m simply stating the obvious. You ought to know, that your actions could have dire consequences.”
Rian steps to the side and backs out of the office, never taking his eyes away from Harris. He doesn't make a move to stop him or to follow him out.
Feeling overwhelmed and sick with dread at his dwindling prospects of freedom, Rian stumbles into the bathrooms and locks himself in one of the stalls.
Fuck!
What the fuck is he supposed to do now? All the fucking money in the world won’t help if this gets out. What if Stephanie and Mr. Duncan decide it is really him? How the fuck is he supposed to even begin defending himself? What if Harris hurts August Duncan?
Harris Kelly has him by the balls yet again, and Rian hates himself for wasting time, crying like an idiot in this fucking office bathroom. But the thought of facing Lincoln and crying in the car while that monster gloats is even worse.
The door opens and quiet hesitant steps invade his hiding space. He quickly dismisses the idea that Harris would follow him there. He would have barged in. Rian stills himself, nonetheless, waiting for the intruder to piss and fuck off so he can come out, and clean his face, and leave without being scrutinized by random employees working on the weekend.
“Crying in public toilets, is that your new thing?” The softness in Rick’s voice catches him off guard.
He probably shouldn’t be, but all he feels now is a profound sense of relief. “Yeah.” Rian sobs chuckling. “I strive to uphold this level of pathetic at all times.”
Rick opens the door of his stall. He hesitates only for a brief moment and then steps in, closing the door behind him, and locking them in the tight space. He leans back on the partition and looks at Rian. Rick appears to be calm, put together, and poised as ever, but his eyes are different.
For the first time, Rian could tell this man doesn’t hate him. Not anymore. It hurts to know that Rick most certainly feels sorry for him. Pities Rian enough to drop the act and approach him. That only means that his situation is so hopeless, even someone as calculating and opportunistic as Rick can’t help but commiserate with him.
“Why did you do it?” Rian looks at him with feeble hope, that Rick would at least have the courtesy to lie to him or would sincerely state he was innocent in this. But the look on his face leaves little opportunity for doubt.
“I wanted him for myself,” he simply states. By the tone of his delivery, it is clear, that is no longer the case. “I didn’t think he would use the kid.” He thickly swallows and looks away muttering, “I didn’t think he would use me and then still latch on to you, like a goddamned lunatic. Rian, he will never let you go. He’ll ––”
“He’d rather kill me than watch me walk away.” Rian looks at Rick feeling connected to this man in some strange painful way. They are suffocating, bound by unspoken raw truths. They are making the same mistake. They have turned the wrong way and now have no other choice but to scramble for freedom even if they know their efforts could be futile.
“Youcan leave,” Rian mutters, reaching for Rick’s hand. “It’s not too late.”
Rick gives him an exasperated look. It’s a mix of annoyance, and loving patience, one would give an elderly person or a toddler. He is one stone-cold little shit. Rian will give him that. He shakes his head dismissively as if Ri had just told him to fly to the moon.
“You know better than that, Rian. The likes of me, don’t get to hide from the Kellys of the world.”
Rian pulls him closer. He surprises them both when he brings Rick to himself, embracing him. Rick exhales deeply in his hair and mutters, “I’ll be alright. I can take care of myself.”
