Trained By The Boss: M/M BDSM Straight To Gay First Time Romance

by Charlotte Storm

  It’s a box. Small. Silver.

  “Your mother and I were going to wait until after dinner to give this to you. But since you’re stubbornly insisting we do this now...” He pushes to standing and holds out the box for me to take.

  I exchange a look with the McCabe’s, with Lily. They look as confused as I feel.

  “Open it,” he says, full of himself like he always is. Whatever’s in this box is something that’s going to make him and my mother look good. Seem like caring, world’s best parents.

  Licking my dry lips, I open the box, almost drop it the moment I do.

  “This belonged to your great-grandmother Montgomery. We’re hoping you’ll use it when you make Lily your wife.”

  A giant diamond, square cut, gleaming with a yellow sheen, winks at me against a red velvet backdrop. It’s gaudy, obscenely large, and obviously antique.

  It represents everything I hate about my family, about this arrangement I had no say over.

  I open my mouth, close it, not sure what to say, how to tell him I’m not making Lily my wife.

  “That’s...uh, wow.” Lily’s voice breaks me out of my moment. Convinces me it’s now or never.

  Placing the lid on the box, I hand it back to my father. “That’s very generous. Thank you, but I don’t need it.”

  My father’s brow scrunches, his lips purse. “Don’t need it? What, did you buy your own diamond with your new fancy job?” He sneers at the word job, which is hypocritical as hell.

  “No. I didn’t buy a diamond because I’m not going to marry Lily.”

  Everyone in the room freezes, like hitting pause on a movie.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. McCabe. You’ve been great, and this decision has nothing to do with you. The truth is, I’m not ready to get married, and I don’t love your daughter.”

  I turn to face Lily. “Please forgive me. I’m not trying to be cruel. You’re amazing, kind, pretty, and smart. You deserve a man who will love you for those qualities, and I’m not him.”

  I never will be him.

  Lily stares at me for what feels like forever. I want to ask her what she’s thinking, apologize to her for dropping this bomb without warning.

  Finally, at some unspoken cue, she buries her face in her hands and begins to cry. Her shoulders shake. She curls in on herself. Muffled mewling sounds come from between her hands.

  The room finally erupts. Lily’s mother rushes to her side, tries to pry her hands away from her face. Mr. McCabe and my father yell at me, then at each other. My mother defends my father, criticizes me.

  I just stand there, watching the chaos our families have made out of our lives, would continue to make if we let them. I’m done letting them.

  “Enough!” I slam my fist on the table. The cuff Griffin gave me smashes against my wrist, leaves a mark on the table.

  The McCabes and my parents look at me as if they’re only just now seeing me for the first time.

  “This decision isn’t yours to make. It’s mine. It’s Lily’s.” Dropping into my chair, I put my hand on her shoulder.

  She hasn’t stopped crying, stopped shaking.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, son.” My father’s voice echoes in the small room, intimidating the molecules in the air to vibrate at his frequency. “You’re going to marry Lily McCabe because I said so. Because I know better than you. Because you owe it to your mother and I to live the kind of life that will make us proud of the time and effort we’ve put into you.”

  “Why can’t you be proud of me for who I am?” I ask, hand still on Lily’s shoulder. “For who I want to become.”

  “You’ll become what your mother and I fucking tell you to become, or so help me, Aiden, you are dead to me.”

  Mrs. McCabe recoils from my father in fear, her husband stepping in front of her to shield her. She wears a look I know well. A look I’ve worn my entire life.

  My mother places her hand on my father’s arm, her signature move to get him in line so that he’ll stop embarrassing her. But it’s too late for that. Their little charade is up, and I fucking hate that game, anyway.

  My father stares at her hand, then at the McCabes, as if he’s only now remembering where he is. That there are witnesses.

  Lily’s cries grow louder, bringing the focus in the room to her. I’m seriously worried something’s wrong with her when she removes her hands from her face.

  She wasn’t crying. She was laughing. And she doesn’t stop.

  Her gaze pings from her parents to mine, every shift to a new shocked face bringing a fresh round. Tears streak her cheeks, her mascara smudging her eyes with dark circles.

  “Lily?” I say when she clutches her stomach, tries to catch her breath.

  Without warning, Lily launches herself into my arms, hers wrapping tight around my neck. “Thank you, Aiden,” she says, over and over, into my ear. “I don’t love you, either. I don’t want to be your wife.”

  The knots inside my stomach that kept me from eating, loosen. The tension in my shoulders relaxes. She feels the same way I do. Of course she does. She’s been just as trapped as I have.

  I can’t help but wonder if she has a Griffin of her own that will help set her free. I hope she does.

  “We’re leaving,” my father announces.

  “Go ahead,” I say, still holding on to Lily. If they want to leave, I’m not stopping them.

  A split second later, my father’s hand wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me away from Lily and out of my seat. “You’re coming, too. We have unfinished business, you and I, and I won’t tolerate an ungrateful, disobedient child.”

  Child? I haven’t been a child in years. But to him, that’s what I’ll always be.

  With all pretense of being a decent human being gone, my father shoves me toward the front door, grabs me by my hair to help me to my feet when I fall.

  “It’s obvious to me I’ve gone too easy on you, son. That ends, now,” he says.

  Scalp burning, eyes pricking with unshed tears, I grit my teeth, determined not to cry out. I know my boundaries so much better now, and I know my father wants the satisfaction of thinking he controls me. For some reason, me holding back is me retaining that control.

  Like a well-oiled abuse mechanism, my mother opens the front door and my father throws me out. I attempt to tuck and roll down the few steps leading off the McCabe’s porch, but I’m not as nimble as I think I am. I hit the ground at a wrong angle. Or, rather, my wrist does.

  Bones rub together in an unnatural way. Still, I don’t cry out.

  My mother glances around to see if anyone is watching, tries to close the door to hide from the McCabe’s what is sure to be the worst ass-kicking of my life, which says a lot. Mr. McCabe reaches out, grabs the door before it can close.

  “Aiden!” Lily calls to me from behind her father’s protective stance.

  I’d wondered if her parents treat her the way mine treat me. But the disgusted, surprised look on their faces at my father’s violent outburst tells me they don’t. At least, not physically.

  “Mr. Montgomery, I don’t think it’s approp—”

  “Stay out of this,” my father says to Mr. McCabe in the same threatening voice he uses with me.

  “This is a family matter,” my mother chimes in as if on cue. “Mind your own business, tend to your own issues.” Her judgmental glare finds Lily, no doubt accusing her for what just happened at dinner. “We’ll tend to ours.”

  Before I can push to my feet, tell them not to worry, that everything’s going to be okay, my father lands a kick to my stomach. I piss myself, cough up all the air in my lungs. Pain lances through me, stealing my ability to think, to protect myself.

  He kicks me again before my lungs have a chance to come back online, suffocating me. That his second kick doesn’t hurt isn’t a good sign. Neither is the black at the edge of my vision.

  “How dare you embarrass your mother and I like this.”

  My father’s voice is little m
ore than a growl against my ear as he yanks on my hair. My neck bends at a painful angle, my spine curving back, choking me more. In a few seconds, I’ll black out. Be at the complete mercy of my parents.

  “We’ve sacrificed everything for you,” he says, his hot breath heavy against my skin. “It’s a debt we intend to collect, if not from your life, then from your flesh.”

  Instead of letting me go, allowing my head to flop against the pavement, my father slams my face into the sidewalk. Every nerve ending from jaw to forehead shocks me with white hot pain. I think I pass out for a moment, I’m not sure.

  “I’m calling the police,” I hear someone say. Lily, or Mrs. McCabe. Can’t tell. Everything sounds muffled as if people are shouting behind closed doors.

  “Let’s go.” My mother’s tone is unmistakable. It’s the one she uses to leash my father when things get out of control where people might see. Might judge my parents as less than their idealized version of themselves.

  “I’m not fucking done with him.”

  Somewhere in the vicinity of my lower back, my father lands another kick. But I’m drifting now, my conscious mind ready to dissociate from my body. Leave the physical to deal with physical things.

  I wonder if I’d have still stood up to my parents, told them I’m not marrying Lily, knowing this would be the outcome.

  A flash of Griffin’s face makes me feel warm inside—or maybe that’s just internal bleeding.

  Yes. The answer’s yes. Not for Griffin. For myself. Because, for once, my parents needed to hear the word no.

  And to think, I haven’t even told them I’m gay.

  Chapter 11

  In the small moment of grace between full consciousness and the mind-body connection, I find an instant of peace. An instant where my life feels, for the first time, like it’s on the trajectory it’s supposed to be on. Like I’m finally becoming the man, not who my parents want me to be, but who I truly am.

  Then reality drops me off a ten story building. Face first.

  My nerve endings are the first thing to come back online. The assholes. Why they’d want to be in a hurry to wake up is beyond me.

  “Aiden?” A gruff, tired voice sounds to my right.

  I try and open my eyes, get a look at the man the voice belongs to. The man I belong to. But damn if my eyelids want to cooperate. Okay, fine. Plan B.

  Forcing my tongue to wet parched lips, I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”

  Wow. I sound fucking wrecked. By the sound of every molecule in my body screaming in agony at once, I’d say I am wrecked.

  Griffin’s cologne wraps me in his familiar scent when he stands, the breeze of his movements making even the air obey him. A nearby door opens followed by muffled voices.

  Someone else enters the room. A nurse by the way they talk to me, take my vitals.

  “He’s in pain,” Griffin says to the nurse as if he’s the one in pain. “Can’t you give him something before you check on all that shit?”

  The nurse might not appreciate being strong-armed, but he gives me the good stuff anyway.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when the morphine kicks in. Moments later, the door clicks closed. Griffin takes my hand in his and sits with me, not saying a word.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask in the silence between us.

  “Do you want me to go?” His voice sounds defeated, exhausted in the way that tells me he hasn’t slept, possibly in days.

  No, that can’t be right. Dinner was just last night, wasn’t it?

  “No!” I say a little too forcefully. My ribs let me know. “No, sir. I just...um, how did you know I was here?”

  Where the hell is here, anyway?

  I force my eyes open, make them focus on something other than Griffin Hart. The sterile walls, beeping machines, and hospital bed tell me everything I need to know.

  “What do you mean how did I know?” he asks.

  Slowly, as if I’m something breakable, my boss reaches out, brushes the back of his hand across my cheek.

  “Aiden, you’ve been in a medically induced coma for three days.”

  Three days? What the hell?

  “Bruised ribs, cranial swelling, internal bleeding, not to mention the damage to your face and jaw. You’re lucky your father didn’t break it.”

  “Lucky?” I don’t feel lucky.

  Running his fingers through his disheveled hair, Griffin drops his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know things were this bad for you at home. I would’ve never—”

  I try and sit up straighter, push to a more comfortable position. The ribs he’d mentioned were bruised do a fantastic job of telling me that themselves. I grunt, a pitiful sound.

  Griffin immediately responds. He adjusts my pillows, puts his hands underneath my arms to help me sit up. He’s attentive, his touch gentle, and fuck. I just might love him more for it.

  The CEO of a Fortune 500 company, at my sick bed, fussing over me like I’m something special to him.

  “Things weren’t this bad,” I say. “But that’s because I’d never stood up to my father before.”

  I reach for the water pitcher. He pours some in a styrofoam cup for me, brings it to my lips. I smile, take a sip.

  “It takes a lot of bravery to come out to your parents.” Griffin’s lips pinch into a thin line. “I should know. I just wish it didn’t have to go this way for you.”

  I laugh, which is a huge mistake.

  My laughter quickly turns into coughing, and from coughing into heaving breaths where everything hurts and I can’t get away from the pain no matter what I do.

  Eventually, I settle, and the morphine helps keep things from getting too out of control.

  I can’t look at Griffin when I say, “I didn't come out to my parents. They don’t know I’m gay.”

  I can’t see them, but I know Griffin’s expressive eyes are burning holes into the side of my face. I don’t think I’ve ever said those words out loud.

  I’m. Gay.

  I’m not sure what I thought would happen. The Heavens part. Stars align. Fireworks explode overhead.

  Somehow, I thought the moment would be more monumental than it is, though maybe simply acknowledging my sexual preference shouldn’t be so earth-shattering. Not for me. Not for anyone. Maybe, it just simply isn’t that big of a fucking deal.

  The big fucking deal tends to be other people’s reactions. Other people’s judgments.

  “You didn’t come out?” he says as if it’s the most impossible thing he’s heard. “I don’t understand. What the hell was all this for?” He waves a hand at my entire body.

  “For telling him and my mother I won’t marry Lily. You want to know the funny part?”

  “Yeah, Aiden, I do, because I don’t see any fucking humor in this.” His tone is harsh, unforgiving. I don’t know if he’s pissed at me, or at my father. Or both.

  “She didn’t want to marry me, either. She was so happy when I said I didn’t love her that she hugged me, cried in my arms. You should’ve seen the look on everyone’s face. Fucking priceless.”

  I crack a grin, because too much of my life lately has been serious. I’m in a hospital, homeless, not sure if I still have a job, recently broke up with my fiancé, and just admitted out loud I’m gay. Clearly, all the seriousness in my life isn’t serving me.

  Griffin just stares, like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Maybe it’s the morphine. Doesn’t matter. This is the first thing I’ve done since coating the side of my boss’s desk in my own release that’s felt good.

  “Aiden, you okay?” Griffin asks, concerned.

  “Yeah. Better than okay. Well, wait. I don’t know. Do I still have a job, boss?” I smile like a stupid idiot at one of the most powerful businessmen in all of San Diego.

  Griffin tries his damndest not to crack a grin, but the corners of his full lips betray him. “Yes, Mr. Montgomery. You do. Right now, it’s getting better.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say and rub my wrist where his bracelet sh
ould be.

  Shit. It’s gone. I panic, frantically look around in the bed, the table beside me. It isn’t there, and I worry that they cut it off when they brought me in.

  “Here.” Griffin reaches into his pocket, pulls out the cuff. “They removed it. I’ve kept it safe.”

  When he places the cuff on my wrist, everything feels right in the world. The bracelet has become less of a collar, more of a safety blanket. It reminds me that I belong somewhere, to someone. That I have value, bring value in return.

  Griffin stays with me for a little while after. But with how much noise his cell phone makes, I know he won’t be able to stay for very long. I’m grateful he was here at all. He’s a busy man. That he took the time means everything to me.

  The next day, Lily comes to visit. Her parents are pissed at her for lying to them. Like normal, decent people, they don’t beat her or throw her out.

  She tells me that, after she called 911 and the ambulance took me away, officers arrested my father. He’s out now on bail, awaiting trial. When he got home, my parents threw all of my belongings into the front yard.

  Worried that my parents were going to have everything sent to the dump, Lily and her family had gone over, retrieved my stuff, put it in a local storage unit not far from where they live. My car is still at their house, and she was able to swipe my keys before the ambulance took me away.

  When she hands me both sets of keys—one to my car, one to the storage unit—I cry. I’m not ashamed to admit that. What they did, the care they’ve shown me, is how my own parents should’ve treated me.

  I spend the rest of the week healing the damage done by my father, and looking for places to live. Rent in San Diego is stupid expensive. Better than LA and San Francisco. Still, I’ll have to look for a roommate situation, or a studio that’s on the small side.

  For now, I settle for getting a deal on a hotel room within walking distance of Griffin’s office, for when they release me from the hospital. The less I have to drive, spend money on gas, the better. My job as an executive assistant pays well, but I’ve never been on my own before. Had to completely pay my way. I’m not sure what my expenses will be.