Page 17 of Pretty Broken Doll

Ryann

W here the fuck is Shilo?

After coming back inside, he’d danced with KC briefly before vanishing completely. I haven’t had the chance to search for him properly—not with Ronin watching my every move around Olivia. But I felt his eyes on me earlier, and it pissed me off that I couldn’t see him.

Then, after what felt like hours, I caught a flash of purple hair near Paige. Just as quickly as I saw him, he was gone again. He’s not with KC or Carpenter, either, because those two have been glued to the dessert table all night.

So where the fuck is he?

Olivia tosses her hair, nibbling delicately on hors d’oeuvres. “Well, I’m officially impressed. You Callahans know how to celebrate. My parties at Sentinel Solutions consist of pizza and soda.”

Most of my smiles tonight have been fake, but this one is genuine as I glance around the room. My employees are laughing, dancing, enjoying themselves. “We like to take care of our own. Happy people make happy customers. Without our workforce, we’d still be the small tech firm my grandfather started.”

“Your grandfather founded the business?” she asks, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

“Him and my father,” I confirm, glancing toward Ronin, who’s schmoozing nearby with his little trophy wife on his arm. “Back in the seventies, they built car radios out of a shed in Ireland. We’ve come a long way.”

“I’ll say.” She winks at me, sipping her drink through a straw in what I’m sure is meant to be sultry. I smirk, playing along, even though this entire charade is exhausting.

The hum of lively conversations and clinking glasses surrounds us, but my focus keeps slipping. I scan the room again, searching for the one person who could make this insufferable evening worth enduring. But he’s nowhere to be seen. And it really fucking bothers me.

“Looking for your boy?” Olivia murmurs, close enough that no one else can hear.

My jaw tightens, and I give her a stiff nod.

“I think I saw him leave about twenty minutes ago,” she says, gesturing casually toward the double doors before running a hand down my arm for show. “He’s upset about us, isn’t he?”

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.

I’ve always hated this office, from the built-in bookshelves crammed with leather-bound lies to the bar cart in the corner that’s seen more deals sealed with scotch than trust. It’s not just the memories of tense conversations I’ve endured here—it’s what the space stands for. Money. Power. Control.

Those things run through my veins as well, but unlike Ronin Callahan, I don’t wield them like weapons to manipulate people who stand in my way.

A low whimper brings me back to the present, and I shove off of the wall to stalk toward Shilo softly. Slick sounds of him stroking himself fill my ears, the sound so fucking filthy that I almost release a groan. His pants are unzipped, tuxedo jacket draped over the back of the chair as his pale, hairless chest peeks through the top button of his shirt.

“I didn’t give you permission to come.”

His head snaps up, arm halting when our eyes collide.

“In fact, I specifically remember telling you not to touch yourself.”

Shilo huffs, keeping a hand wrapped around his dick. “Can’t help it, I think it’s the champagne. Made me horny.”

Judging from the way he’s slurring his words, I’d say that he’s probably been hiding and drinking all night. Naughty, naughty doll.

Coming around the desk, I raise a brow at him and cross my arms again. “How did you get in here? Your access is restricted.”

Those gorgeous—albeit glazed—eyes dance around my face as he licks his lips and swallows nervously. “I s-stole my sister’s badge. And the code was in an email you sent to Declan. Don’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’m not mad, doll face, I’m furious.” Leaning down, I grip the plush leather arms of the chair tightly, putting my face within inches of his. “Do you know how much trouble we could get into if you’re caught right now?”

A needy whine brushes against my lips as he jerks himself once. “Please, Ry, I need to come. Help me.”

God, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s drunk right now and violating so many company policies, I’d bend him over my father’s desk and pound his little hole as punishment. As it were…

Straightening, I lean a hip against the desk and gaze down at the angry, swollen head of his cock. I wish I could taste it, suck on it until he turned into a squirming, overstimulated mess. But I can’t touch right now.

“You can come,” I say, fighting a grin at the desperate moan that leaves his throat, “but you can’t touch yourself, and neither will I. Do it hands-free.”

“Huh?” His mouth drops open as he blinks down at himself. “H-how…how the frick am I supposed to do that?”

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to get creative.”

He glares at me, chest heaving as he looks around dazedly. Muttering a curse, he gets to his feet, his sticky length jabbing me in the stomach when he reaches up to undo my tie.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting creative.” Once it’s free, Shilo takes the tie and wraps it around his cock like a sling, shuddering when the fabric glides against it. “How expensive was this? Feels so good.”

“It’s Brioni silk.” Fuck, the way his leaking crown looks sliding in and out of the material is obscene.

“I don’t know what that means.” Thrusting his hips, he lets out a filthy moan as his head falls back, and I’m so damn tempted to sink my teeth into his pretty throat. Put my marks on him, claim him for all to see.

“I…hate your…dad,” he pants through clenched teeth. Something about the unhinged way he snarls those words drives me fucking crazy, like the champagne tonight was enough to obliterate his inhibitions completely.

“You and I both, doll.” Everything inside of me right now is screaming for release, the urge to pull out my own cock becoming painful to ignore. Especially when he turns his body so that each thrust has his balls rubbing against the edge of the desk.

“He…I—mm, God.” My little doll tenses as a rope of cum shoots from his dick. Hips slowing, he completely coats the keyboard, covering it with wave after wave of his sticky release in the hottest display I’ve ever seen. Crying out, he bites his lip, still rubbing himself with my tie until he’s drained of every last drop, and only then do I allow myself to touch him.

My hands hold him steady as his legs give out, nearly collapsing forward, my name rolling off his tongue. His head hits my chest and he nuzzles closer, inhaling deep before sighing.

“You always smell so good, you know?”

With a chuckle, I grab the tie from his hand and set it aside before reaching down to fix his pants. “It’s an imported fragrance. I modeled for their campaign during my junior year of college.”

“Mm, underwear,” he mumbles, swaying on his feet. “Waterfalls. Palm trees.”

My brows fly up as I lower him onto my father’s chair, buttoning up the top of his shirt. “Have you been researching me, doll face?”

A hiccup leaves his throat. “You look so hot in those p-pitchers. All oiled and—“ Hiccup. “Muscles.”

“Jesus.”

He’s definitely had too much to drink. And knowing Shilo, he’s probably got an empty stomach as well. His lids slide shut as he slumps down, clearly ready to pass out.

“Wait for me right here. Don’t move.”

He doesn’t respond, already asleep, his breathing deep and even. I make quick work of cleaning up the mess, including the wireless keyboard still sticky with his cum, before heading to the elevator. Once in my office, I swap it with my own, ensuring there’s no trace of what happened upstairs.

A buzz in my pocket pulls my attention, and I curse under my breath at Olivia’s text.

Olivia SinClaire:

Ronin’s looking for you.

Fuck. He’s going to be livid that I vanished during his big announcement and missed my speech. There’s no fixing that now, though, so I fire off an email about a fake work emergency, hoping it’ll buy me some time. Next, I text Paige to let her know I’m taking her brother home.

Ronin’s fury can wait until morning. Right now, my little doll needs me.

Shilo’s still right where I left him, snoozing soundly, looking adorably uncomfortable with his head bent forward at an awkward angle.

After swapping out the keyboard, I nudge his shoulder. “Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Lee’ me alone,” he grumbles, weakly swatting at my arms, and I grunt as I lift him to his feet.

“Trust me, you do not want to sleep here.”

He fights the whole way to the elevator, leaning heavily against me and eventually dropping his full body weight into my arms, weighing so little that it’s unnerving. With a frown, I glance down at his sleeping face as the elevator descends to the parking garage. Even through the fabric of his tux, he feels too thin. Frail, almost. It makes me uneasy. From what I remember, he wasn’t this small back in August. But then again, I’ve never held him for long. How would I know if this is normal for him?

Those high school photos I saw on Thanksgiving flash through my memory—Shilo, younger and healthier, a softness to his face that’s long gone. That, paired with catching him in the bathroom, his fingers down his throat...

My arms instinctively tighten around him. No, I don’t think this is normal at all.

Once we reach the car, I buckle Shilo into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel. But as soon as I start the engine, he unbuckles himself, shifting sideways until his head rests in my lap with a contented sigh.

I should push him off, tell him to sit upright and put the seat belt back on. Safety first, after all. But my fingers have a mind of their own, slipping into his soft strands, combing through them. I just… can’t. So I let him stay like that as I drive us to his house, taking the scenic route to steal a little more time.

“Shilo, you need to wake up. We’re here.”

Pulling up to the curb, I gently lift him upright, and he mumbles something incoherent under his breath before fumbling for the door handle. As the door swings open, he pitches sideways, and if it weren’t for my quick grip on his jacket sleeve, he would’ve face-planted right onto the pavement.

“Fucking hell.” I yank him back, scowling when he laughs like this is some kind of game.

Scoffing, he waves off my words with a lazy hand before scooting closer. My breath catches as he shifts, and before I can react, he’s straddling me, settling onto my lap.

“This,” he murmurs softly. “I want this.”

“Shilo, goddammit, we need to get you inside.”

With a hum, he wraps his arms around me and buries his face into my neck. The feeling of his lips on my skin plus the pressure of him sitting on my crotch has my cock swelling, but I ignore it, choosing to get out of the car instead while he clings to me like a koala.

As I approach the front door, the house is brightly lit with Christmas decorations, the glow warm and inviting, but all the windows are dark. My plan is simple: drop him off on the porch, make sure he gets inside, and leave. But when I try to set him down, he clings tighter, his legs locking stubbornly around my waist like he has no intention of letting go.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I fish into his pockets, pulling out his keys to unlock the door. “Your father is going to be unhappy if he catches you like this.”

“Not here,” my little doll mumbles against my throat. “He’s on duty. Only Mom.”

Thank fuck for small miracles, at least.

Carrying him inside, I nudge the door closed with my foot. It slams harder than I intended, the sound echoing in the quiet house. I wince, but it’s too late—his mother’s voice calls from down the hall.

“Paige? That you?”

“S’me, Mum,” Shilo shouts back, lifting his head to kiss my jaw.

“Hi, honey. There’s some meatloaf in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“M’not—“ He starts to say, but I clap a hand over his mouth and give him a stern look as I make my way toward the kitchen. He needs to eat. Not just tonight but in general, and if no one else will force him to do it, then I will.

He licks and sucks at my palm, gazing at me from behind his lashes as I set him down on a butcher block counter. Pulling open a refrigerator covered in mismatched magnets, I spot the plastic container with his name scrawled on top and pop it in the microwave.

The kitchen is small, cozy, and I briefly take in the beige cabinets and old linoleum floors before asking Shilo where the silverware is. When he doesn’t respond, I find him with his eyes closed, snoring softly. Fucking hell. Luckily, there aren’t a lot of drawers, and I find what I’m looking for as the microwave dings.

Resigning myself to feeding him, I spear some food with a fork, blowing to cool it off before bringing it to his mouth. “Open up, doll.”

He complies, cracking open a lid when I place the food on his tongue. “Said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Too damn bad. Eat.”

With a grunt, he closes his eye again, wrapping his legs around my hips as he lets me feed him slowly, one bite at a time. When the container is half empty, he finally pushes the fork away, and I finish the rest myself before lifting him back into my arms.

Carrying him upstairs, I step into his room, which is noticeably messier than it was on Thanksgiving. Clothes are scattered across the floor, and the desk is buried under a chaotic pile of papers and computer parts

“Gotta pee.” He lets go of me, feet hitting the ground, but when he stumbles toward the bathroom, he trips over a pair of sneakers and crashes to the floor. “Shit. Ouch.”

“Are you alright?”

“Mm-hmm.” When he pushes to a stand, his legs wobble, and he nearly takes out his 3D printer by falling into it. “W-why s’everything moving?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh and grab his arm, guiding him carefully into the bathroom. Once there, he positions himself in front of the toilet and starts to undo his pants, but stops abruptly before whipping his head around to glare at me.

“Go away.”

Nice try . After all that food he just ate, I’m not letting him out of my sight.

“You can barely stand, Shilo. Just go. I won’t watch.”

His precious face twists into a grimace. “But you’ll listen. Sh-shut up your ears. Shut ’em up.”

Huffing a laugh, I turn him around, placing my back to his chest. “Okay, they’re closed. Now go.”

He grumbles the entire time but doesn’t fight me, and I help him wash his hands when he’s done. Getting him to brush his teeth is a losing battle, so I just walk him back into his room, where he flops backward onto his bed. Fully clothed.

Without giving myself too much time to second-guess, I decide to undress him, starting with his pants since they’re already unbuttoned. Of course, he’s not wearing anything underneath, which does absolutely nothing to help the situation in my own slacks.

Still, I force myself to stay focused, moving on to remove his socks and shoes. Those cute as fuck toes make a brief appearance, and I can’t help but glance at them before quickly shifting my attention back to the task at hand.

Next is his tuxedo jacket, which comes off easily enough, but when I unbutton his shirt, Shilo pushes me away with surprising strength.

“ No.”

“You can’t sleep in that shirt, doll face. It’ll wrinkle. Let me take care of you.”

He curls inward, rolling onto his side and tucking his knees to his chest, like he’s trying to shield himself from the world. A flare of anger rises in my chest as I grind my molars. Not at him, but at whoever made him feel this way about himself.

“M’ fine, Mr. Callahan. You can lee’ me now.”

“How many more times do I have to tell you to call me Ryann, Shilo?”

“Don’t want to,” he mutters, burying his face into his arms. “Hurts.”

My brows slam together as I frown. “Hurts? What hurts? Calling me by my name?”

“Mm.” With a nod, he wraps a blanket around himself, and I stand there, completely taken off guard.

“Why?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Cuz tomorrow, this won’t be real.”

That’s all he says. And honestly, I don’t ask him to clarify because I’m not sure I want to know. Instead, I let him sleep while I tidy up his room, finding a hamper in the closet to stuff his clothes into. His rat watches me from its cage with beady eyes, little whiskers twitching.

When there’s nothing left to do, I contemplate leaving. I really do. But the memory of Shilo’s body pressed into my back when he slept in my bed, combined with his little snores, has me sitting next to him. And try as I might, I can’t seem to come up with an excuse for why I lift his head onto my lap. I just do. It feels nice to have my fingers in his hair again. Peaceful. Relaxing.

Checking the time on my phone—and ignoring multiple missed calls from Declan and my dad—I realize it’s past midnight, which means…

“Merry Christmas, doll,” I whisper softly, leaning back to close my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I spent the holiday with anyone. Not since Mom died. This time isn’t any different; I’m not actually spending it with Shilo. I’ll be gone before he wakes.

But for now, in this quiet moment, it almost feels like we’re spending it together.

The elevator to my condo slides shut behind me, and I let out a long breath, rolling my shoulders to release some of the tension from leaning against Shilo’s headboard for hours. I’m exhausted, my mind still buzzing with the endless list of tasks I need to get through before the AVA launch and everything that happened tonight.

As I step into the living room, ready to collapse, I freeze. There, sprawled comfortably on my new couch like he owns the place, is my brother. One leg draped lazily over the armrest, flipping through a magazine.

Fuck. So much for avoiding him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I bark sharply.

Dec looks up, a grin spreading on his face. “Merry Christmas to you too, big brother. You missed Dad’s whole retirement announcement. How’s Shilo?”

“He’s asleep.” A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I rub my burning eyes. Asshole’s only two minutes younger. “Declan, it’s late. I’ve got a lot of work to do in the morning, and I’m tired. Can we shelve this conversation for another day?”

He swings his legs off the couch and stands, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. “Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit. When was the last time you slept?”

I don’t have the energy for this. “I’m fine. Just busy.”

My twin raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying my bullshit. “Busy, huh? Or maybe overworking yourself to death?”

Walking past him, I head for the kitchen, ignoring his concerns. “I’ve got a lot riding on this, Declan. You know that.”

He follows close behind, leaning against the counter as I open the fridge and pull out a water bottle. “I’d say I get it, Ry, but I don’t. This is getting out of hand. You’re killing yourself over this AVA project, and for what? To prove something to Dad?”

I twist the cap off the bottle, avoiding his gaze as I take a swig. “It’s not about proving anything. This is important. If AVA fails, the whole company fails.”

As Ronin likes to remind me repeatedly.

Declan’s expression softens. “You know you don’t have to do everything alone, right? I’m here. You can ask me for help.”

Shaking my head, I scrub a hand down my face, scratching my stubbled cheek. “This is a project Dad entrusted to me. I’ve got it under control.”

“Yeah?” He crosses his arms, watching me closely. “Is that why you’re dating Olivia? Because you’ve got everything under control? ”

My hand tightens around the bottle, making it crinkle, as my shoulders tense. “Olivia and I have an understanding. It’s nothing more than a business arrangement.”

“A business arrangement,” he repeats slowly, his tone laced with disbelief. “Seriously? You’re dating a woman you can’t possibly care about because Dad told you to. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

The weight of his words presses down on me, and I glance away. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then tell me,” he urges, stepping closer. “Talk to me, Ryann. I’m still your brother, remember?”

“Of course I do,” I grumble irritably, feeling guilty.

For a moment, I’m tempted to tell him everything—to admit how alone I sometimes feel, how every decision I make seems like a trap, how I’m terrified of Ronin finding out the truth, and the confusion surrounding Shilo.

But I can’t. I can’t let Declan see how much I struggle to keep it all together, he’s done too much for me already. So I force a smile, hoping it looks convincing.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. Really. I’ve got this.”

Declan’s shoulders slump, and I hate the disappointment in his eyes. It feels like sophomore year of high school again, when we were strangers. “Ryann…if this is about what happened to Mom—“

“No,” I cut him off, trying to keep my tone light despite the agony just mentioning her brings. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

He studies me for a long moment with those green eyes like hers, and I know he’s trying to see through me. “You know I don’t blame you anymore, right? I haven’t for a long time.”

My first instinct is to flinch, but I tamp it down. “Yeah. I know.”

It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t blame me. I still do. That will never change.

“Alright.”

We both gaze at one another in silence, him trying to get me to crack as I hold onto my resolve with all my might.

Finally, he breaks the stare-down, dropping his head with a defeated sigh. “If you change your mind or need anything at all, you know where to find me.”

I nod, grateful for the offer, even if I can’t take it. “Thanks, Dec. I mean it.”

He gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Take care of yourself, okay? This company, Dad...there are more important things out there.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly as he heads for the elevator. “You too.”

The doors slide shut, and I’m left standing in the kitchen, silence pressing around me. It’s fucking lonely. Having Shilo in my bed last week felt too good, and now that’s all I can think about. I used to revel in solitude, but now I want to get in my car and drive back to his parents house to curl up beside him. This whole business with Olivia has probably made sure that I’ll never fall asleep beside him again, and I feel so fucking raw.

This is for the best. He deserves someone his own age who can proudly claim him, not some bitter, emotionally stunted man sixteen years his senior. I’m the one who told him to keep feelings out of our arrangement.

But as I stand in the cold, suffocating silence of my empty condo, a gnawing thought takes root.

Maybe separating feelings from Shilo was never an option to begin with.