RUIN: A M/M Romance Novel

by Daya Daniels

  The children play, chasing the leaves, teasing and tickling each other.

  “I think I want that one day, Ryker.”

  He shifts to look at me. “You’re joking?” He gives me a long look and a smirk, but the smile dies on his face after about three seconds. “You aren’t joking?”

  “Nope, not joking. I think I want that.”

  He nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever considered having children. When it comes to me just the thought of me raising a tiny life myself should be illegal.” He chuckles. “I was always taking care of myself. I was always worried about myself.” His eyes fix on mine. “But now it’s not just me anymore. It’s you and me.” He smiles. “I think you and I could raise a few of those…” He points to the toddlers. “Little people.”

  I laugh out loud. “Little people?”

  He points once more, waggling his finger around. “You know tiny humans?”

  I laugh more.

  “Poop factories,” he jokes.

  I crack up.

  “Honestly, Griffon, I think we could do it.” His eyes are wistful. “You and me.”

  I suck in much-need oxygen when I realize he really means it.

  “You and me.” His hair ruffles with the breeze making it all look dark and wild.

  “Yeah, you and me.” I cup his cheek and press a soft kiss to his lips.

  You and me…

  RYKER

  I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M doing this…

  My stomach is in my boots and my heartbeat is in my ears.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can barely blink.

  My gut swirls.

  I smile anyways.

  We linger on the sidewalk, hands shoved in our pockets, bouncing on our toes.

  The night sky is full of stars and the traffic meanders by, each car leaves behind the pungent odor of gasoline and motor oil in its wake that mixes with the cool air.

  Sam leans against the Bentley which idles at the curb and puffs on a cigarette looking Griffon and me over.

  “Is he back?” I take a few steps closer to the heavy oak front doors.

  Sam nods slowly, doesn’t say a word.

  Craning my neck, I glance up at the building I call home and find the fourth floor already lit up confirming Francis is in his office. A familiar room.

  My eyes meet Griffon’s.

  “I believe Mrs. Benedict said that dinner would be served promptly at seven p.m.” Sam pushes off the side of the vehicle, opens the car door and gets in. “You know they don’t like it when you’re late.” He smiles before he shuts the door.

  “Yeah.” I laugh a little and check my watch, realizing I have less than two minutes to get upstairs before Francis has a coronary about my lack of timekeeping skills.

  Sam starts the engine and drives off.

  Griffon’s posture is relaxed but his face is tight.

  I pace two more times before I realize I’m doing it and stop and swear to myself.

  Griffon’s eyes flicker all over my face.

  “What?” I toss my hair.

  “Nothing.” He removes his hands from his pockets. “I guess I’m just hungry.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

  He reaches for my hand. “If you really don’t want to do this, we really don’t have to?” His face is scrunched.

  No, I must do this.

  I don’t know how I’ve managed to avoid this for so long.

  In the length of time we’ve been a couple, Griffon still hasn’t met my parents which is weird. I’ve been avoiding this for far too long. I figure even if Griffon meets them just once it would be enough. He’d never ask again, I hope. He wants to know who the woman is who carried me in her stomach for nine months and raised me.

  Is that so strange?

  God, I feel sick.

  I take his hand in mine and we walk a few steps to linger in front of the door.

  Griffon smiles.

  I smile too but it’s all bullshit.

  “My stomach is grumbling.” He rubs his.

  Mine too…

  But for other reasons.

  With curious eyes, Griffon taps on the gold plaque affixed to the stone wall which confirms that this building is yet another Benedict property in New York City. “Swanky.”

  I don’t say anything in response.

  Reaching for the door, it opens with a click that sounds more like a gunshot.

  “I’m ready to eat.” Griffon laughs a little and steps inside ahead of me.

  “Yeah, me too.” I follow him.

  Let’s hope I can make it through dinner without throwing up all over the goddamn table.

  GRIFFON

  WHY DO I FEEL as if I’m in a funhouse?

  It’s almost nine o’clock at night and this opulent apartment is quiet.

  Everything which surrounds me is expensive from the oak furnishings to the marble floors in places and the massive Swarovski chandelier which hangs just above us and fills this room with light.

  I feel out of place here.

  But this place feels out of place.

  Strange and confusing.

  And it has felt this way since I’d arrived here. I searched and searched for mementos and expected to see photographs of Ryker when he was a baby on display. There were none. I thought maybe I’d find photographs of his entire family together. There were none.

  All odd.

  This house is full of stuff, yet feels so empty, too clean too…

  Like a museum.

  An hour into dinner and Francis still hasn’t arrived.

  Only his fancy golden-edged plate of food rests in his spot at the head of the table. The steak is so rare that the dish served with mashed potato is now a pool of red.

  It’s quite disgusting.

  They seem to use their finest dishes around here—no paper plates and plastic utensils like we do at my place.

  Bella sits at the head of the huge table. “It’sssss nice that Rykerrrr, blought a frrrrriend over. I’m blad to finally greet you.” She gifts me with a drunk goofy smile.

  Ryker stares me dead in the face, says nothing.

  “Yes, thank you for inviting me.” I glance over at her.

  She’s the perfect image. She’s young, much younger than her husband and a real braindead Barbie. Blue-eyed with platinum, chemically-blonde hair pulled away from her face in a fancy updo. She has red-painted fingernails and is wearing what I’m quite certain is a Gucci dress to go along with her five-inch heels. She’s dressed as if she should be walking the catwalk, not having dinner at home.

  “What do lu do for yerk?” She hiccups then takes another swig from her wine glass.

  My eyes meet Ryker’s once more.

  I smile hoping he’ll do the same, but he only offers me dead face.

  Translating Bella’s sentences since I’d arrived here seems to be an ongoing thing.

  She’s still smiling as she struggles to put a forkful of food into her mouth. She misses. The morsel of steak falls into her plate and the sauce splashes everywhere.

  She tries once more to feed herself, failing.

  It’s fucking disastrous.

  Like watching an elephant try to shit in a bucket.

  “I, um, work in a gym during the week after classes are over. I’m the assistant manager.”

  Bella tosses her silverware down in the plate and huffs.

  Trinity, the maid who Ryker had told me has worked here since he was a child, rushes into the dining room and clears her plate away. She’s a woman who keeps her mouth shut and her head of dry brown curls low. She’s barely looked me in the face once. I swear a murder could occur right in front of her and she wouldn’t report it.

  “Lat’s vonderwul.” Bella’s blue eyes widen.

  With a sigh, Ryker savors his last bite of meat.

  I keep my eyes fixed on his face, not wanting to focus on the painting of a clown behind him. There are exactly eight massive paintings of them in this room.

  The one be
hind Ryker with the friendly face has orange hair, a big red nose, mischievous eyes and is concealing a gold dagger in its left hand.

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  I truly wonder what’s up with the clown art.

  It’s fuckin’ creepy.

  There’s even a painting of one in the foyer which scared the shit out of me when I stepped foot in this place.

  My eyes narrow when Trinity ambles back into the room and opens another bottle of wine. There are already three empty ones on the table which means Bella had finished them all.

  Ryker is a recovering addict.

  This shit shouldn’t even be in this house! Let alone right in front of him.

  He blinks slowly when I look at him. The glug of the wine being poured into Bella’s glass serves as background noise to our silent conversation where I ask: What the fuck?

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  The heavy footfalls again…

  I’ve heard them since I’ve been here echoing throughout this fancy apartment.

  Guess they belong to Francis.

  The man who I still haven’t met.

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  A door slams.

  Bella jumps.

  Trinity scampers from the room.

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  Ryker glances over his shoulder but the man who owns the footsteps doesn’t appear.

  I eat my food slowly.

  “Youuuuu should slay for resert.” Bella tosses back more wine.

  I only nod. “Yes, thank you.”

  Ryker chews.

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  “BELLA!” the voice booms. “Bella, get in here!”

  Bella shoots up from the table almost tripping in her heels. She makes her best attempt to steady herself then jogs from the room. “Please leep your boice frown, Francis! We have a guesssss.”

  A deep grunt is the only response.

  Ryker swallows.

  A door slams.

  Then it opens.

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  He suddenly appears.

  The king.

  His presence swallows up the room immediately and fills it with pure dread.

  He’s big.

  Much bigger up close. He seemed smaller the last time I saw him.

  He’s easily six foot six and three hundred plus pounds.

  My eyes drift over his stony face with its hard edges. I examine his features that tell me he is undoubtedly Ryker’s father. He has blue eyes. But they aren’t beautiful like his son’s. They’re icy and cold and they hold something behind them I can’t quite figure out.

  He doesn’t smile.

  Marching across the room, he pulls out his chair and plops into it. He tips his head forward just once, offering me up a gaze that would terrify the likes of even the Incredible Hulk. “Francis.” He digs into his bloody steak, eating it with gusto.

  “Griffon.” I rest my silverware down.

  Ryker is still staring at me.

  Trinity clears the dishes away.

  Bella slides back into her seat. Her cheeks are red, and her hair is a little out of place. She uses her napkin to dab at her lips. “Sorry, linner upset my rummy.”

  Ryker blinks.

  I know that look on Bella’s face.

  It’s the same one Lauren always had on her mug back at Spero after we’d eaten in the common room whenever they forced me to fraternize. In addition to being an alcoholic, Bella seems to also be a raging bulimic.

  Pity.

  Francis quickly finishes his food. “I’ve told you a million fucking times, Bella, about inviting guests over here without asking me about it first.” He snatches his napkin up from his lap and tosses it on the table. Then, he pushes up from his chair and marches out of the room.

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  Nice to fucking meet you too…

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  Bella’s mouth remains open, then quickly her eyes well up with tears. “I’m sorrrrry, Francis.”

  Ryker sprawls out in his chair, those blues of his all over me.

  “Please excuse my husbanddddd, Biffon.” Bella’s expression is contrite as she sips more wine.

  A door slams, hard.

  And then it’s quiet again.

  So quiet.

  RYKER

  “I’M REALLY SORRY ABOUT earlier.” I select a book from the shelf.

  “It’s okay.” Griffon shrugs. “Maybe he was having a bad day.”

  He’s referring to Francis’ bad attitude…

  I shake my head, keeping it low and toss the book on the bed. “No, he’s always like that.”

  And can be much worse.

  “Have you ever thought of bringing Elsa here?”

  I swing my head in Griffon’s direction. “No.”

  Francis would probably kill her.

  “Okay, bad suggestion I guess.” Griffon frowns.

  I nod.

  “Francis is very different from my father.”

  “Yeah, Babbo is friendly for starters. He actually talks to you.” I suck my teeth. “My father is a prick who talks at you. He’s always been like this. I still don’t understand why in the fuck you wanted to meet him to be honest after everything you already know. Did you think it would be different if you saw him up close?”

  Griffon waltzes around the room. “No, I don’t think I did.”

  I rummage through a drawer. “So why then?”

  “I guess I just wanted to meet him.”

  A frustrated growl makes my jaw ache.

  Griffon stops for a beat to look out the window, admiring the sight of Central Park in the distance. “People always say that every boy one day becomes his father.”

  I freeze in place.

  “I don’t think I believe it though. I don’t think I want to be Babbo. I mean, he isn’t a bad guy or anything but he’s weak. And he works like a dog because he didn’t go to school.”

  “Why are you always giving him shit, Griffon?”

  Griffon spins around to face me.

  I point toward the door. “I’d rather have a father like yours than the one I’ve currently got. I’d rather have one who hugs me and tells me I’m perfect regardless of what a fuckup I am.” I kick a bag on the floor out of the way.

  Griffon’s face twists up like what I’ve just said is ridiculous.

  I’m stunned by how quickly his attitude makes my blood boil. “Your father loves you. I can see it in his fucking eyes every time he looks at you. Yet you treat him like dirt, Griffon, and you’re always mocking him. I’m sick of it.”

  He folds his arms across his chest.

  “If you did turn out to be like Babbo, I would still love you.” I scoff. “If I turned out to be like that man in this apartment, you’d never find it in your soul to care about me or to even want to be in the same room as me for more than a few seconds. Believe me.”

  He blinks. “I’m sorry.”

  “Your father is a wonderful man, Griffon. He loves you. He takes care of you. He protects you. He doesn’t hurt you. He loved your mother, and clearly, he always will. Have you ever stopped to think about any of that? Instead of criticizing him, accept him. You should accept him the way he accepts you. Have you ever thought that he might need that? Have you ever considered that maybe he might need a hug, Griffon?” A tear dribbles from my eye. Angrily, I wipe it away.

  “Fuckkkkk.” He runs a hand over his jaw.

  I stand straight, my fists balled at my sides.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” His eyes are sad.

  I shake my head. “It isn’t you, Griffon. It’s this house and I need to get out of it before I lose my fucking mind.”

  Griffon plops down on the edge of the bed. “It’s a little weird here.”

  An understatement…

  I sniffle, hating myself for it. I rush around the room and finish packing. I pull out a pair of sneakers from the closet and drop them on the floor.

  “What’s with all the clow
ns?” Griffon’s voice is a whisper.

  I stiffen.

  “My father is obsessed with them, so they’re all over this fucking house.” I sigh. “It’s something about their smiles. He likes them and over the years the same smile on those clown faces resemble exactly what his is like—pasted on and fake.”

  After clicking on the stereo, Griffon moves to stand in front of me.

  “Best of You” by the Foo Fighters floats across the room.

  I hang my head low and reach for his hand, bringing it to my mouth, placing a kiss to the top of it.

  “I’m sorry.” He presses his forehead to mine.

  “It’s okay.”

  And the fight is over.

  This is the way it’s always been between us.

  This love is easy.

  This love is kind.

  This love is mine.

  He presses his lips to mine softly and slides his hand up the back of my neck. “Your birthday is in a week.”

  “So is yours.” I smile.

  We laugh.

  “I can’t wait.”

  I think of the freedom that’ll come with that date.

  So much fucking freedom.

  “We should do something incredible like take a helicopter ride at night. Or, sit and have coffee in Central Park. Or kiss beneath the Atlas clock at Tiffany & Co.” Griffon’s excitement fuels my own.

  “It sounds perfect.” I stroke his hair, admiring how incredible his eyes look. Beneath the soft light in here they look metallic. They shimmer with adoration.

  He kisses my lips. “We should make it special.”

  “I agree.”

  Griffon draws a cross over my heart. “Me, plus you, equals forever.”

  “It does.” I nibble on his top lip.

  Laughing, we ease away from each other when loud voices slip in through the door that’s cracked.

  Griffon’s brows knot.

  Arguing…

  Bella and Francis are at it again.

  Jesus Christ.

  Something shatters. Bella slurs. Francis shouts.

  It’s always this way around here.

  Marching across the room, I shut the door, locking out the world.

  Griffon keeps his eyes on me.

  It’s quiet for a few seconds before…

  STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

  Shit.

  The footfalls move past the bedroom.