Unbreak Him

by Sam E. Kraemer

  Addressed? That's a new one. Best to play it cool. "Explain yourself," Kyle demanded.

  He saw Grant glance up for half a second. "In private, I'll use whatever name you'd prefer, but in front of colleagues and clients, I'd suppose we should use surnames… maybe?"

  Kyle could see the man was having some sort of crisis, and if he was going to keep his promotion, new salary, and possibly, his job, he needed to take the upper hand. It seemed as if it was what Grant Cummings was in dire need of, and well, kowtowing to an asshole wasn't up Kyle's alley anyway.

  "So, I'll call you Mr. Cummings, and you'll address me as Mr. Rance," he stated, forcefully. It had been a long fucking day, to be sure. All Kyle wanted was to go back to his little one-bedroom apartment and go to bed, but now he had a new project to shepherd. Life wasn't going to be dull. All he had to do was weather the storms of life, one day at a time.

  "Mr. Cummings, I'll take care of the bill if you give me your card," Kyle suggested as the four of them sat at the table in a secluded corner of the restaurant in the Four Seasons Hotel at Logan Square.

  The hotel was going out of business soon, having been in service for more than thirty years. Kyle thought it a grand property, and he was sorry to learn it was closing. It was his first time in the place, and the meal had been exquisite.

  "Oh, yes, Mr. Rance. I'll contact… we'll discuss things tomorrow. Anyway," Grant continued after he handed Kyle his wallet without glancing in his direction.

  Kyle made his way to the host stand to find a handsome young man standing there. When they'd come into the hotel lobby and walked into the restaurant, there was a young woman at the stand. Fortunately, her replacement was gorgeous. "What can I do for you, sir?"

  Kyle smiled. "It's Kyle, and you can get my check, please. What's your name?" he asked.

  The cute host offered a smile. He had cherubic features that intrigued Kyle. "Rickie. Are you here for business or pleasure, Kyle?" the hot little Cupid look-alike asked, his green eyes sparkling.

  "I'm here for business, but I could be coaxed to stay for pleasure. What time do you get off?" Kyle asked.

  Rickie flagged down the waiter who'd served them and handed over Cummings' credit card. Kyle stepped aside to allow easy access to the lobby and the restrooms. "So, are you single?" he asked as Rickie called good-night to guests.

  "Not seeing anyone, how about you, Six-Feet-of-Heaven?" Rickie teased.

  Kyle laughed. "Am I so easily read?"

  "Only if one is a bookworm. My degree in English literature hasn't exactly brought me…" Rickie began before Kyle heard a throat clearing behind him.

  He turned to see Grant Cummings with the Tucano men. Both of the Italian men were smiling, but Cummings wasn't… at all. "We're ready. Might I have my wallet? The waiter brought the check to the table. I wasn't aware you were otherwise engaged, Mr. Rance," Grant sniped.

  Kyle turned to Rickie and smiled. "Raincheck?" The cherub smiled and gave the nod.

  Kyle then turned to the company around him. "It was a pleasure to meet the two of you. I'm sure we'll speak again. Mr. Tucano, Lorenzo, safe travels," he offered as he shook each of their hands. They both returned the sentiment before they went through to the lobby and off to the elevator.

  He then turned to Grant. Before the shorter man had an opportunity to say a word, he took him by the arm and led him outside the hotel, seeing it was pouring down with rain. "Where do you live?" Kyle asked.

  "Rit… Rittenhouse Square," Grant responded.

  Kyle handed Cummings the wallet and had the valet call for a taxi. "Rittenhouse Square," he told the valet.

  He then turned to Grant. "Go home and go to bed. We'll finish our discussion in the morning," he ordered. He saw Grant nod, so after he had the man in a cab, he went back into the hotel to have a drink. He needed to collect himself and think things through. His boss was either a masochist or a submissive, but he didn't know which. He’d need to dig a little deeper, though that probably wasn’t condoned in the employee handbook. For Kyle’s own sanity, he needed to know what, or who, he was dealing with every day.

  After sipping a vodka tonic and watching Rickie leave with another guy, Kyle walked outside and took a deep breath. The rain had stopped, and the air smelled fresh and full of possibilities. He had so many things to consider, and he was at a total loss of how to process the information from earlier in the evening.

  Sure, he had a strong personality, and he'd kick ass when necessary, but spanking an ass wasn't anything he'd ever contemplated, though the idea did intrigue him. Was he prepared to dole out a punishment to his boss if it was necessary? Was that even Grant Cummings' deal, experiencing pain?

  As Kyle considered it, he decided it was best to initiate a discussion between just the two of them and brace himself for the outcome, good or bad. Cooper had tried to fuck Cummings over, or so Kyle was putting together, and Kyle had actually prevented a disaster, or so he assumed, if those pictures had gotten out. He just had to know if or how Lindsey Blume had gotten herself involved.

  For reasons he wasn’t ready to explore yet, Kyle was developing a sweet spot for Grant Cummings… eccentricities and all… but he didn't want the man to be hurt in any way. Well… unless it was a few light spanks to that gorgeous ass? Where that thought came from, Kyle couldn’t possibly fathom, but it was definitely something to ponder.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Kyle rose early. The sounds of the neighborhood and the smell of the pepper and sausage carts on the street corners woke him first because he'd opened his windows before he went to bed the previous night. He used to love the damn things, but after smelling them all summer long, he had a hard time holding back nausea when he walked by one.

  It was early fall, the middle of September. He dreaded the winter, which was approaching too fast, but the fall… Kyle loved the fall. The smells… the leaves… the crisp breeze off the river. It all joined into a familiar mix he'd grown to love since he’d moved to Philly after being released from Allenwood.

  After a shave and shower, Kyle went into his bedroom closet and pulled out a suit he'd held in waiting. It was Ralph Lauren, Black Label. He'd bought it at a thrift store he'd found in Old City, and while it was his size, it had needed a bit of altering to make it custom and worthy of his new position.

  Kyle was slimmer built than the previous owner, and he liked a cuff on his pants. Thankfully, the last tailor hadn't trimmed the extra fabric from the pants when they were hemmed, so there was enough for Kyle to add a cuff with a proper break before he sent them to the dry cleaners.

  When he picked up the suit, he was stunned by how elegant it looked. It was a classic three-button with a single vent in the back, but the navy shade showed off his brown eyes. The stark white shirt… one he'd saved for such a day… and the light-blue tie made him feel confident.

  As he was leaving his apartment, he ran into his neighbor, Connie. Connie had been the one who'd helped Kyle pin the suit when he'd initially purchased it, and they'd shared a meal or two over the time since Kyle had moved into the apartment building. They became friends over Connie’s clogged garbage disposal since Kyle was the building super, and they’d gotten closer over time.

  Initially, Kyle believed their vastly different lifestyles made it challenging to find things in common, aside from their orientation, but as Kyle got to know Connie, he found out how wrong he’d been.

  In fact, he decided maybe his neighbor could offer some insight into his current predicament because he knew Connie was much more involved in the local LGBTQ+ community than Kyle, so he’d likely be more familiar with the various kinks out there. A primer in BDSM was probably helpful if his suspicions were confirmed about his boss.

  "Hello, gorgeous! Just ending the night or starting the day?" Kyle teased as he stood on the sidewalk in front of their building. Connie was carrying a garment bag over his shoulder, but he was still wearing his club make-up.

  "Don't be a bitch, Kyle. I worked at a private party la
st night… dual bachelors. They're getting married on Saturday. Anyway, I got a few names of guys who would be more than happy to crawl around and lift their tails for you," Connie teased.

  Kyle thought about the comment and smiled. "How much experience do you have with Dom/sub relationships? I have a suspicion my boss, Grant Cummings, is in one, and something's not right with him."

  "Well, I prefer a level playing field in the bedroom, but I have friends who like to play. I can do a little digging. Should I?" Connie asked, his voice lowering as they both looked around.

  "Grant Cummings. Look, are you busy tonight? I'll spring for Thai. I really need some advice," Kyle explained.

  Connie held up a well-manicured finger, wagging it in his face. "Okay, we both realize I'm not interested in that type of a relationship with you, right?"

  Kyle laughed as he kissed Connie's cheek. "No, darling. I just need advice. Seven at my place, casual," he called as he headed down the block to the bus stop. Maybe Connie could offer him some guidance? He didn't have a computer at home or Wi-Fi, so looking things up wasn't an option. He'd have to go with his gut and hope for the best. That seemed to be his only option.

  Kyle stopped at reception to see Natalie Rhodes, the woman who'd worked there since he'd started. "Hi, Nat. How are you this lovely fall day?" he greeted as he stopped at the desk to be courteous.

  She handed over several pink slips. "I'm fine, Kyle. These are Mr. Cummings and your messages. Have a nice day," she told him dismissively.

  He looked at her, seeing that she was studying the switchboard on her desk. He had no idea why she was so cold to him that morning, but he'd find her later in the day to see if he could ferret out the reason for her disdain. They’d been cool in the past. What had changed?

  As he stood in the lobby reviewing the messages in his hands, he felt a hand on his back. He turned to see Charles Curry with a big grin on his face. He was an assistant to Reggie Snow, another junior partner at the firm. Neither man had given Kyle a moment’s notice in all the time he’d worked at the place.

  Through the grapevine, Kyle had heard Reggie and Grant were rivals for a senior partnership position coming up the next year, but in the past, Kyle had given no fucks about shit like that. Due to his change in circumstance, it was suddenly foremost on his mind.

  "Congrats, Dude. I knew they were wasting you away in Support Services. So, have you met the other assistants on five?" Charles asked.

  Kyle took a deep breath. He was entering into an entirely new "yard" than the one he'd entered in Allenwood that first day. It was probably a lot more competitive and volatile, based on what he'd witnessed as he drove a small mail cart through the halls. Everyone was out for their slice of the pie. If Kyle wanted his own, he was pretty sure he'd have to fight for it.

  "I haven't, but we're in the middle of a big campaign right now, so can we get together next week? Maybe a happy hour?" he offered with a fake smile.

  "That sounds fantastic. I'll rally the troops. Don't be ashamed to call if you need help, uh, Carl. We all get overwhelmed sometimes, and we all help each other out. I know Lindsey wasn't the best assistant, so if you need any advice, just call 663," Charles told him as they stepped off the elevator together.

  "Will do," Kyle responded, knowing there was no way in hell he'd ever call that fucker to help him so much as pick a splinter from his ass. He headed toward Grant's office, seeing it was brightly lit. The door was closed, so he had a chance to get ahead of the day, or so he hoped.

  Kyle shed his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair to keep it wrinkle-free. He grabbed a paper tablet and pen before he knocked on the door. "Come in," Kyle heard mumbled. He opened the door to see Grant Cummings sitting in his chair, head in hands.

  "Good morning. What's wrong?" Kyle asked as he placed the messages on Grant's desk before taking a seat on the other side.

  "I… I didn't sleep well, and I have a headache," Grant complained.

  Kyle considered what the man said and held the smile. "Did you go home and drink last night?" Honestly, he had no right to ask any such thing of his boss, much less in the demanding tone he'd used, but the man appeared to be a bit bleary-eyed, and there were bags which hadn't been present the previous day.

  Grant looked up at him with a look of astonishment.

  "Before you think I'm spying or clairvoyant, you look like shit. You haven't shaved, your hair's a mess, and your shoulders are up around your ears. What did you do last night after you left me?" Kyle demanded.

  Cummings looked up and immediately walked around his desk, falling to his knees in front of Kyle. The move totally caught him off guard, reminding him of his dinner date with Connie. Seeing the handsome man on his knees did something to Kyle, but it was business hours, and if anyone came in without knocking…

  "Get up and sit in the chair," Kyle directed staunchly as he took the smaller man by the shoulders and placed him in the chair next to him.

  "I'm sorry," Grant whispered. Kyle could see he was crying, and it was the last thing he wanted to witness.

  "No, no, stop. I need you to explain to me what's wrong? You're totally out of sorts, Grant, and I can't imagine you climbed the corporate ladder behaving like this. We need to get to the bottom of it so we can figure out how to get you back in the game. Explain to me what's going on," Kyle stated, leaving the man no choice.

  "I can't talk about it. I'm sorry, Kyle. I'll do better, I promise," Grant told him as he went into his private bathroom and closed the door.

  If the man wasn't going to open up to him, Kyle would have to find another way to get him back on his feet. If something happened to put Grant's job in jeopardy, it would be back to the mailroom for Kyle, and he wasn't ready to give up so easily.

  This job was the break Kyle had been looking for since he stood in a courtroom and listened to the judge pronounce his sentence. He'd paid his debt to society, and it was time to start being a member of it. The first order of business was to sort out Grant Cummings and get him on the road to productivity.

  Kyle was standing in line at the deli across the street from the building where Timmons & Associates had offices. He was picking up food for Grant and himself because they were working at refining some pitches and artwork for another of Mr. Timmons' clients. It seemed odd to Kyle that Timmons was handing off clients as he was, but it was above Kyle's paygrade to ask why.

  He'd left Grant to review the file while he went to get lunch for them, and Kyle was more anxious to have a discussion with his neighbor that evening than he’d been that morning, having witnessed the total breakdown of a man in a manner he'd never experienced before in his life.

  "Hey, Rance. I guess you're doing the same as me," he heard from the line next to him, looking up to see Charles Curry twice in the same day.

  "Hey, Curry. Mr. Cummings ordered a working lunch," Kyle responded vaguely. He had no reason to trust Charles Curry in the least. When he'd dealt with the man while working in the mailroom, he found him to be an arrogant asshole. For him to suddenly want to be buddies? There was something slightly covert behind it.

  Curry chuckled. "Yeah, I got one, too. I guess Timmons is on a terror again. Anyway, everything going smoothly with the two of you? Reg mentioned Cummings was a mess at the last partner meeting. Does it have anything to do with Cooper Daniels taking a leave of absence? That's a huge mess, ain't it?"

  Kyle's Big Adventure had begun on Tuesday morning with Lindsey Blume, and it was still flying along forty-eight hours later. All of that shit was starting to wear on Kyle’s nerves. What the hell would Friday look like?

  Deciding to keep things close to the vest, Kyle smiled at Curry. "I’ve only met Mr. Daniels in passing, so I'm not sure about the mess to which you're referring. What have you heard?" he asked, hoping to dissuade the gossip which he knew was swirling around the firm.

  "NEXT!" the man behind the counter yelled. Kyle looked up to see it was his number on the board, so he stepped forward, not glancing back at Charles Curry.
He was a fucking nosy bastard, and Kyle wouldn't forget it the next time they crossed paths.

  He ordered their sandwiches and a side of fruit salad for both of them. When he asked Grant what he wanted to eat, the man said, "It's Thursday. A veggie wrap and fruit salad, please," as he handed Kyle money.

  Kyle ordered the same for himself, having not found the time to work out as he did in prison, but not willing to lose his girlish figure. He didn't want to get fat, because he still hoped to have a healthy, adult relationship, sometime in his future.

  He took his order across the street just as the rain started. He'd tucked the lunch bag under his coat to keep the food from getting soaked, but it did nothing for Kyle. His beautiful suit and pressed shirt were soaked through and through.

  Once he was at his desk, Kyle took off his jacket and draped it over his chair, hoping to dry it out without it suffering too much. He also removed his tie to hang it over the file cabinet. There was an AC vent just above his desk, so he removed his black dress shoes and put them on the cabinet beneath the vent, hoping the shoes wouldn't shrink up when they dried.

  They were beautiful Johnston & Murphy wing-tips he'd purchased at a consignment shop, and he'd paid to have them resoled and shined. They looked like new, and he didn't want them ruined.

  Kyle glanced at his desk to see Grant’s line was illuminated, so he hurried to the restroom down the hall to dry his hair, and hopefully, his shirt over the hand dryer. Thankfully, they hadn't upgraded it to the new, fancy ones where one thrust their hands down and the machine blasted off the water. Kyle wouldn't have been able to fit his head inside the appliance, and he doubted it would be an attractive look when it was finished.

  He padded down the hallway in his stocking feet and picked up the lunch bag after grabbing plates, utensils, napkins, and bottles of water from the pantry. He checked his desk phone to see Grant was finished with his call, so Kyle knocked twice on the door and opened it without waiting for an invitation.