His Secret

30. Matías

CHAPTER THIRTY

MATíAS

My eyes are wide with shock. I’ve always been aware there are parents who don’t accept their kids if they’re gay. As wrong as that is, it was never a secret. I’ve known too many gay people who had that same issue. Disowning your queer kid isn’t new either. Unfortunately, it’s happened too many times to be a rarity. Threatening the future of a kid you don’t know simply because your own child is interested in him is crazy.

I find my way to the couch as I attempt to find words. Adrian follows suit, sitting across from me.

“He has a lot of money and can pull a lot of strings. Not only did he start and grow his own financial advisory company, but he also has a startup funding firm. Unfortunately, when you’re rich, you can own and manipulate almost anyone. He had my future wrapped up, but I wasn’t going to allow him to ruin yours.”

“I wish you would’ve told me.”

“It’s embarrassing to admit how awful your parents are. I told you plenty back then, but to tell you the details—the things he’s said…” He shakes his head, leaving off the details once again.

“Is your marriage?—”

“Another string he pulled?” He sighs. “Yeah.”

“Why?” I ask, baffled and confused.

“His business partner. My wife is his daughter. She got into some trouble a few years back. She struggled to stay sober and would disappear for days. Her dad was trying his best to keep her on track and not have any stories make the news. They were in the process of a big business deal, and she was off getting arrested every other month. One day, after being gone for a while, she showed up to her dad’s house with a positive pregnancy test and a promise to get better.

“My dad encouraged me to spend time with her, at first as a friend, to spy for her dad. They wanted to know her real thoughts on getting sober. Then he encouraged us to hang out more. When they found out that the baby’s father was a drug addict with a rap sheet a mile long, the panic seeped in. They didn’t want him to get his claws into their money. I was pushed to do the ‘right thing’ and say the baby was mine. Charlotte fought like hell. She was against her father almost as much as I was against mine. She didn’t want to be with me like I didn’t want to be with her. She ran off but came back a few days later, sick as hell.

“By that time, I liked her. We got along okay, and our friendship was starting to feel real, but that was it. I took care of her when she came back, listened to her cry and rant about her father. I did the same thing. She knew the biological father was never going to be a presence in her life. She knew she needed to get better, but she was dead set on defying her father. We secluded ourselves from our parents for the next month, mainly because we could hardly stand to be around them, and in that time I told myself I could probably do it. I could be with her. I could help her. She told me often that she didn’t know what she’d do without me. I was the most stable friend she had, and she was terrified of having a baby alone. And it wasn’t that she was afraid people would learn she was a single mom because the father was a drug addict in jail. That was her father’s concern. He held all the power and she knew if she ran off again to try to do this alone, she’d fail. She’d fail the baby. She didn’t have money, and she was an addict barely on the tip of recovery. She needed her father’s money. She needed to go to rehab. And she needed someone she could rely on.”

I shake my head, completely shocked. “Adrian.”

“We eloped, because we didn’t want our families to be involved at all. We thought if we had to do what they wanted, we’d at least do it our way. We weren’t in love. We hadn’t even kissed. It was just a job to do. But after we were married, of course, we started to make our relationship real. Two months later, she lost the baby. She blamed herself and went into a depression and started drinking. I tried everything I could to keep her safe, to keep her from slipping farther into her addiction.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, it took a while, but eventually she agreed to go to rehab. When she came out, she was different. I swear there was some sort of brainwashing going on, because she’s on her dad’s side about everything. She’s ready to obey his every wish, and quick to argue with me if I’m not on board with what our parents want us to do.

“I decided I wanted to move. I didn’t want to be around my father anymore. I didn’t want to work with him. I wanted a clean slate. She didn’t want to leave initially. I told her she could stay there. It’s not like we had an amazing relationship. It’s forced and strained on the best days. My father and I started arguing, and she’d take his side. When I actually quit my job and told her I found a house, she sighed and said she’d come.”

I sit back with a sigh. “This is…a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’s my life.”

While I still have questions, it doesn't seem to be the time to ask them. He’s just revealed a whole lot to me, and at least now I know what prompted him to cut our relationship off. It doesn’t make the hurt go away, but it helps. It also makes me sad to know how he’s lived all this time with a father like that, and having no control over almost anything.

“Tell me what you want,” I say. “Don’t think about your marriage, your father, any future outcomes or fallouts. In this moment, right now, what do you want?”

He stares at me for several seconds, and I can tell he’s thinking about everything I told him not to think about.

“Adrian,” I say in a stern voice. “Don’t think about anything else but what would make you happy. What do you want that would make you happy? Not anybody else.”

“To be with you,” he says swiftly. He begins second-guessing himself, his cheeks turning pink as he ducks his chin to avoid eye contact.

My heart begins to gallop, and I stand up and make my way over to him. Sitting on his left, our bodies touching, I say, “You’re with me. What else?”

His eyes study every inch of my face. “I want to kiss you.”

I wet my lips. “So, kiss me.”

“But—”

“No. Do something for you. For once. I won’t tell anyone.”

I hardly get the last word out before his hand is cupping my cheek and his lips are on mine.

It steals my breath. I’m frozen in place but my mind has fluttered away, and my heart seems to be on a mission to get out of my chest.

His fingers press on the back of my head, bringing me closer as his tongue swipes against my lips, forcing them apart so he can gain access to my mouth.

Together, our tongues twirl and glide over one another, and my body unfreezes. I grab a hold of both sides of his face, my breaths coming in frantic and heavy. Eight years. It’s been eight years since I’ve tasted him. Since I’ve felt the softness of his lips.

Everything inside me warms, but as his tongue continues to explore my mouth, and our bodies get closer, the warmth in my veins begins to boil. I want to push him down on the couch and strip him naked. I want his cock in my mouth. I want to bury myself inside him. I want so much, but he deserves to have a choice. He should make the decision.

I pull away slightly, my hands falling to his shirt, where I grip the material and try to catch my breath as my forehead rests against his.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I’ve been dying to do that since I saw you in your office.”

I smirk, easing back. “Hope it lived up to the desire.”

“Definitely.”

I stand up and reach into my pants to adjust my very obvious erection, fixing my clothes after the fact. Adrian’s eyes watch everything, and then they’re finally on my face.

“I guess we have to go back downstairs, huh?”

“Probably,” I say. “Or we could sign our names on the registration paper and then sneak away.”

He grins. “Such a rule breaker now.”

“We didn’t get to eat.”

“I’m not thinking about eating. ”

“What are you thinking about?” I ask with a mischievous smile.

“Only what I want.”

His eyes slide down my body.