Chapter 4 - The Decision
1240 Words
He staggered back to his apartment with his vision blurring and his head throbbing,
ignoring every stare along the way.
The apartment was small. A mattress on the floor, a plastic chair beside it. A wardrobe fixed to the wall with no door, revealing a few faded shirts and worn trousers hanging inside.
He pressed his back against the wall and slid down to the floor.
After a moment he pushed the mattress aside, pulled back the rug and lifted out a small dug hole from the ground.
Inside were several gold trophies. And tucked between them, three photographs.
Milo Beckett — Captain, Harlow High.
Milo Beckett — Fastest Track Runner, Harlow Kindergarten.
He stared at them for a long time.
Once upon a time, he’d been discovered on a track field and recruited into hockey. He’d been the most popular jock in high school, winning everything he touched, convinced that the world outside worked the same way — that as long as you worked hard and didn’t quit, you kept moving forward.
Then he found out he wasn’t smart enough to earn a fully funded scholarship on hockey alone.
Not without the grades to back it up.
So he had moved here. Hidden his past. And scraped by the best way he could.
This was supposed to be his big break.
He exhaled and stared at the ceiling.
Rhett Calloway was worth over three billion.
Harlow Hawks winning the tournament next year only meant more money in his account.
Meanwhile, he would likely end up dead in a ditch somewhere because there was nothing a man in his position could do to earn fifty-seven million before the end of the week.
The tournament odds were so heavily in Harlow’s favor that the payout for betting against them was almost nothing.
Unless they actually lost.
Milo opened his eyes.
The Architect was right. The only play here was to bet against Harlow Hawks and make sure they actually lost.
He got up.
He was battered enough to draw stares when he stepped into the wealthier side of the city, but he didn’t slow down.
He spotted the Architect’s familiar hat just as the man was climbing into an SUV.
He ran and stood in front of the car.
The driver braked hard and stepped out, ready to beat the sense into whoever had just sprinted in front of the car. But Milo went straight to the back door.
Inside, the Architect sat completely still. Like he’d been expecting his return.
“I’ll do it.”
The man said nothing. He simply reached into his briefcase and produced a contract, sliding it across the seat.
The figure, three hundred million over the next twelve months, was highlighted in bold.
Milo didn’t read the rest and signed, then slid it back.
The Architect didn’t even look at it before he voiced up, “Out.”
Milo frowned. “What? You said I’d become a member of the Harlow Hawks if I agreed…”
“Outside. Now.” The Architect repeated it slowly, like he was speaking to someone hard of hearing.
Milo stepped out reluctantly, watching the car pull away with confusion.
He stood on the pavement, baffled, with no business card, no number, nothing.
Then a man appeared at his side, well dressed, expensive cologne, a wide smile and a hand already extended for a handshake.
“Mr. Beckett. I’m Joshua Ashford, your lawyer, manager, and legal advisor. Now that you’ve officially joined Halstead Sports Capital, we’ll begin the onboarding process immediately. You’ll be joining the team tomorrow afternoon.”
Joshua booked them into a hotel that evening and spent hours walking Milo through everything he needed to know about life as a Harlow Hawk.
Milo couldn’t sleep that night, so he went down to the hotel bar, and stopped when a door to a VIP lounge swung open briefly.
Five seconds… that was how long the door remained open. But he’d seen that face enough times over the past decade to recognize it anywhere.
Rhett Calloway. Surrounded by women.
Milo almost laughed. So much for the rumors.
He considered taking a photo for useful leverage but talked himself out of it. Athletes partied. That wasn’t news.
The lounge had been cleared of everyone else upon their arrival, quiet and sealed off. So when Rhett’s phone rang, he didn’t check his surroundings and just stepped into the corridor, jaw already tight.
“I don’t understand. You’re getting married, so what? You won’t be the first nor the last to have someone on the side. What is wrong with you?”
Milo had been heading for the elevator, but promptly stopped when he heard the frustrated words.
He turned on his phone’s recorder and stayed very still.
“Getting married was completely unnecessary. You did it to spite me. You know it’s impossible for me to…” A pause. “Don’t you dare hang up on me!”
The last word came out as a shout and Milo jerked, running into a door by accident.
Rhett spun around quickly, attracted by the noise.
There was no time to move so Milo smiled, stiffly.
Rhett looked at him. His eyes were slightly unfocused, his words coming out slow when he muttered, almost to himself, “What is this. Did he get tired of sending blondes and sent me a dark-haired one?”
Drunk.
Milo exhaled quietly. Good. That meant he could slip away and not be remembered in the morning.
He took a small step back, but the next second, Rhett’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar.
His eyes dragged over Milo once — top to bottom — then he turned and walked back into the room, pulling Milo with him.
The door had barely shut before Rhett was on him. No kissing. Just a firm hand flat against Milo’s chest, walking him backward until his back hit the mattress.
Rhett stepped back, pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. Then his hands went to Milo’s clothes — unbuckling his belt impatiently.
Milo simply stood there, his brain stopping the production of useful thoughts entirely.
He’d been with women. He knew what wanting something felt like. But this was complete different, yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
Rhett got up, unbuckled and was getting ready to bend him over when he paused, looked down at him through half-lidded eyes and said plainly. “On top.”
Milo’s breath stalled, but seeing Rhett bend over, he moved.
His first thrust, Rhett gripped the bed frame hard with both hands. His head dropped back, eyes rolling into his eyes.
Milo bent over slightly until he was balls deep in Rhett, then he thrusted again and again and again until an involuntary moan escaped Rhett’s lips, his glute walls clenching around Milo, an unexpected move that sent Milo seeding into him in no time.
When it was over, Rhett lay still for a long moment.
Then he got up, walked toward the bathroom, and stopped at the door. “Leave.”
Milo found his clothes in the dark. His shoes. His phone on the floor, unaware the recorder was still running.
In the elevator he stood completely still and stared at the closed doors.
What just happened.
He walked into his room like a zombie, laid down fully dressed and stared up at the ceiling.
Sleep didn’t come until sunrise.
- Writer
