SHADOWS OF THE PAST

Aiden’s hands shook as he tore open the black envelope, the rain-slicked paper yielding to his fingers. Inside, a single card: Vane Tower, 10 AM. Come alone. - S.V. His mind reeled, replaying the night’s brutal ecstasy the way Silas had claimed him, marked him. But why this? Revenge for old torments? Or something darker, twisted by obsession?

He slammed the door to the apartment, the stench of mold hitting him like a punch. Marcus lounged on the threadbare couch, blond hair disheveled, a deceptive smile masking his desperation. At thirty-two, he was the charismatic older brother Aiden had always idolized, the one who’d shielded him from their father’s rages. But now, Marcus’s recklessness had doomed them. Embezzlement skimming millions from Blackwood Media’s accounts to fund lavish parties, high-stakes gambles, and a string of mistresses. It started small: falsified expense reports, offshore transfers disguised as investments. But greed snowballed. Auditors uncovered the trail, leading to the scandal that bankrupted the family. Marcus faced federal charges of wire fraud, money laundering. Without this payout from The Gilded Cage, he’d be rotting in prison.

“Got the cash?” Marcus asked, eyes lighting up as Aiden tossed the envelope of bills onto the table.

“Enough to buy time with the lawyers,” Aiden muttered, collapsing into a chair. His body ached, a reminder of Silas’s possession. “But it’s blood money, Marc. I sold myself for you.”

Marcus’s smile faltered, guilt flickering. “I didn’t ask you to—”

“You didn’t have to.” Aiden’s voice sharpened. “You blew it all our legacy, our name. Dad’s empire, gone because you couldn’t keep your hands out of the till. Remember the Cayman accounts? The fake vendor invoices? You thought no one would notice?”

Marcus rubbed his temples, the weight of it crushing his usual charm. “It was supposed to be temporary. Borrow a little, win big at the tables, pay it back. But the losses piled up. I was drowning, Aiden. And now… Vane? That freak from school? He’s the one who bought you?”

Aiden’s gut twisted. Silas Vane the “dog” they’d bullied in high school, the scrawny kid with the scarred lip from a childhood accident, always lurking on the edges. Aiden had led the pack, mocking his poverty, his awkwardness, shoving him into lockers for sport. But Silas had vanished after graduation, rumors of foster homes and street smarts. Now, he was a tech mogul, his company Vane Industries revolutionizing AI security, worth billions. How had the outcast risen? Aiden had dug once Silas’s backstory was a shadow: orphaned young, bounced through abusive homes, surviving by hacking systems for scraps. He’d built his empire from code, turning vulnerability into vengeance. And now, he had Aiden in his sights.

“I don’t know what he wants,” Aiden lied, the summons burning in his pocket. “But if it saves you, it’s worth it.”

Marcus clapped his shoulder, oblivious to the storm brewing. “You’re the strong one, little bro. Always were.”

Sleep evaded Aiden that night, dreams haunted by Silas’s stormy eyes, his gravelly voice commanding submission. By morning, resolve hardened. He’d face the devil.

Vane Tower loomed like a glass monolith, piercing New York’s skyline. Security ushered Aiden to the top floor, the elevator humming with quiet power. The office had vast steel beams, panoramic views of the city sprawl, and a desk like a throne. Silas waited behind it, impeccably suited, silver-streaked black hair combed back, muscular frame exuding lethal control. No blindfold, no darkness, just those unreadable blue eyes raking over Aiden like a possession.

“Blackwood,” Silas said, voice smooth as silk over gravel. “Sit.”

Aiden complied, the leather chair cool against his skin. Tension coiled in the air, thick and electric. Silas’s scent of spicy cologne mixed with something primal stirred memories of gloved hands, thrusting hips. Aiden’s cock twitched involuntarily, sex appeal radiating from Silas like heat. The scarred lip quirked, as if sensing it.

A contract slid across the desk. “Personal assistant. Executive level. Global travel, constant proximity. Salary covers your brother’s debts and more.”

Aiden scanned it professionally on the surface: discretion, loyalty, competence. But underneath, it screamed a trap. “Why me? After everything?”

Silas leaned forward, elbows on the desk, eyes darkening. “Because I know you, Aiden. The bully who hid his fears. Now, you’re broken, desperate. Perfect for what I need.”

Backstory spilled in fragments, Silas’s voice low. “You remember me as the dog. But before that? My parents died in a crash when I was ten. Foster homes beatings, starvation. I learned to hack to survive, stealing data to eat. Built Vane from nothing, turning pain into power. And you? You were the face of my nightmares. But also…” He trailed off, a flicker of obsession in his gaze.

Sexual tension crackled, Aiden’s breath hitching. Silas rose, circling the desk like a predator. “This is business,” he murmured, but his hand brushed Aiden’s shoulder, sending jolts of heat. “Or is it?”

Aiden stood, defiance surging. “You think you own me now?”

Silas’s laugh was dark, pressing Aiden against the desk. “I do.” Lips crashed down, fierce and claiming tongues dueling, teeth grazing. Silas’s hands roamed, unbuttoning Aiden’s shirt, exposing a taut chest. Fingers twisted nipples, drawing a gasp. “On your knees,” Silas commanded, voice husky.

Aiden dropped, hands fumbling with Silas’s zipper. The thick cock sprang free, veined and throbbing. He engulfed it, sucking deep, tongue swirling ridges. Silas groaned, fingers tangling in Aiden’s hair, thrusting rhythmically. Saliva dripped, Aiden gagging but aroused, his own erection straining. “Deeper,” Silas growled, hips snapping.

Pulling back, Silas hauled Aiden up, bending him over the desk. Pants shoved down, cool air hit Aiden’s ass. Slick fingers probed, stretching roughly two, then three, curling to hit the prostate. Aiden moaned, pushing back. “Beg for it.”

“Please,” Aiden rasped, "need overriding pride.

Silas entered brutally, filling him raw. Thrusts pounded deep, hand around throat squeezing lightly, amplifying sensations. “Mine,” Silas bit out, angling to strike that spot repeatedly. Aiden’s reflection in the glass twisted in ecstasy, the city below oblivious. He came hard, spilling on the desk, clenching around Silas, triggering his release hot cum flooding deep.

Panting, Silas withdrew, zipping up. “Sign it. Or walk away.”

Aiden, spent and conflicted, grabbed the pen. Ink flowed, binding him. But as he left, Silas’s whisper followed: “Welcome to my world, Blackwood. Secrets await.”

Back home, Marcus waited, eyes suspicious. “What happened?”

Before Aiden could answer, his phone buzzed with an anonymous text: I know what Marcus did. And it’s worse than you think. His blood ran cold. Who was watching?