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“Crystal,” Rian mutters as he feeds Bran a spoonful of mashed broccoli. Harris tries to grab him by the elbow, but he effortlessly leans away then turns and steps forward in his space, forcing Harris to lean back slightly.
“I got it, okay? You’re going to ruin my life and take my child away ––”
“He’s not your ––”
Rian steps forward, forcing Harris to take another step back. He hisses in his face, “Brandon is my son! My child! You don’t get to tell me shit about that! I’m trapped here, Harris! Okay? You got me! I’m screwed! What the fuck else do you want from me? Isn’t owning me like property good enough for you anymore?”
He can tell Harris is itching to hurt him, but there are still people in the house. Bran is right there, a couple of feet away from them.
Rian hears the little one fussing, whimpering with frustration followed by a clanging sound of something hitting the floor. He looks over his shoulder to see Bran has dropped his spoon on the floor. Harris takes advantage of his momentary distraction and seizes his arm, digging his fingers into his flesh.
Harris yanks Rian closer and hisses in his face, “I will never let you go! You will never be free of me! Till death do us part, darling husband! Remember that!”
Rian shakes him off angrily and walks back to Bran without answering, effectively shutting him out. He is trembling all over but forces himself to stay calm, doing his best to appear unfazed, while feeding his son, and ignoring Harris. He can feel his husband’s eyes on him but refuses to acknowledge him and allow him to bring him down emotionally. Rian refuses to engage in his manipulative behavior.
Harris stomps away after a second, barking orders at Rick and his campaign manager.
Soon their home is empty sans the security detail that’s left behind.
For Rian’s benefit, of course. To protect him.
Naturally, Harris has chosen to assign Lincoln with Rian’s safety to taunt him. The man ogles him with no semblance of respect. He clearly doesn’t care that there is a child in the house, that Rian is married to his boss, or that he has never shown the slightest interest in him.
Lincoln’s eyes track every move he makes. He’s got this creepy little smirk plastered on his face that gives Rian the chills.
He can finally take a breath of relief when Margarita arrives half an hour later. This isn’t her usual day, and when Lincoln gives him a suspicious, questioning look, Rian shrugs it off and with a newly found confidence, lies to him.
“The house is a mess. The crew from the magazine dragged dirt through the floors, and the catering station needs to be cleared out. I can’t deal with everything by myself.” He does his best Rick impression, going for prim and prissy, huffing, “And I don’t have to. That’sherjob. I pay her to clean. She is here when I tell her to be.”
After a tense moment, Lincoln seems to accept his explanation, lifting his hands in placation. He definitely looks disappointed.
Rian is pretty certain, Lincoln probably has plans of his own involving spending some alone time with him. Margarita’s arrival has effectively shut down his window of opportunity.
This man seems to be gearing up to get closer to him. Rian is baffled by his audacity and brazen assumption that he is just about desperate, lonely, and isolated enough to throw himself at the first man to show him any attention, however toxic it may be.
Yet…this is exactly what he had done, years ago, when Harris had burst into his life.
His little standoff with Lincoln is interrupted by Margarita herself.
The small woman has a knack with these goons Rian can’t figure out – as soon as they see her drive up to the house, they scurry away to the outdoor patio. She doesn’t tolerate any interference in her household or burly men walking around in filthy shoes on her pristine marble floors.
She dislikes all the men from the security detail, but Lincoln has earned himself a special place on her shit list with his brazen and disrespectful attitude toward Rian. She gives him one long glare, instantly deflating his ego.
“Come on, get out. If Mr. Kelly needs you, he’ll page you over the intercom.”
The security guard is gaping in disbelief at the bossy housekeeper. Rian has to hold back a laugh and turns his back on Lincoln, as that might become impossible very soon. He is facing Margarita, who definitely has her shit together more than he does. Her poker face is perfect. She doesn’t falter in her defiant stance. This tiny firecracker of a woman – no taller than five feet – is freaking fearless. She glares back at Lincoln, hand on her hip, striking a pose, one eyebrow perfectly cocked.
Rian hears him mutter a choice string of curses directed at Margarita. Lincoln hurries out of the kitchen to join the rest of his team outside on the patio.
“Yeah, yeah. Make yourself useful and rake some of those leaves in the back yard, will ya?” she yells after him. The only answer she gets is the rattling of the glass as Lincoln angrily closes the sliding French doors.
Rian bursts out laughing. They both do, as Lincoln is as predictable as he is petty.
“That will do it. He won’t be back for a while just in case I think of something else for him to do.”
Their eyes meet. Even though normally Margarita is not one for affection, she rushes to Rian and holds him tight, murmuring something in her own language, clearly very emotional.
“I’m alright, Margarita. He didn’t hurt me.”Not yet at least, he thinks.
