Mick sat quietly on the sofa in Rhyle’s office, his eyes lowered as he toyed with the hem of his shirt. He had stopped crying, but traces of his emotional breakdown lingered on his face. Rhyle sat across from him, his gaze never leaving Mick for even a second. The silence between them was thick, but Rhyle wasn’t one to rush into words—especially not now.
The silence stretched on as Mick fidgeted. He could feel Rhyle’s eyes on him, the intensity making him uncomfortable. Rhyle’s presence always carried a certain weight, but today, it felt different. It wasn’t just dominance or control—it was something softer, more protective, but Mick wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Mick broke the silence. “Don’t stare at me like that,” he muttered, not lifting his head. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
Rhyle remained quiet for a moment longer, his intense gaze studying Mick’s small, delicate features. His heart tugged at the sight of the boy who, despite everything, still held onto a fragile strength. Then, finally, Rhyle spoke. His voice was low, almost gentle.
"Does it hurt so much?"
Mick blinked in confusion, finally looking up. "What?"
"The wounds," Rhyle repeated, leaning forward slightly. "On your body. Does it hurt so much?"
Mick’s breath hitched. He hadn't expected that. He had braced himself for teasing or indifference, but not this... concern? He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, Mr. Carson. I didn’t mean for you to see that. I didn’t want to show it—I was just... overwhelmed. It’s not like I go around flashing my scars or anything."
Rhyle cut him off before he could ramble further. "I asked you something, Mick. Does it still hurt?"
Mick paused, the sincerity in Rhyle’s voice catching him off guard. After a brief moment of silence, he answered softly, "No. I’m used to it now."
Rhyle narrowed his eyes slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line. Used to it. The thought of Mick enduring this kind of pain made his chest tighten, though he didn’t understand why. All he knew was that he wanted to protect this boy from everything—even himself.
Mick shifted uncomfortably, sensing that Rhyle didn’t want to drop the topic, but he had no energy left for another emotional conversation. Instead, he stood up, as if to excuse himself. Rhyle watched him intently for a few moments, then suddenly stood up too.
"Let’s go."
Mick blinked, caught off guard by the sudden statement. "Where? Are you taking me on one of your crazy car rides again? Because if you are, no thanks, I’m not interested." He crossed his arms, trying to inject some humor into the situation despite his lingering discomfort.
Rhyle smirked, his usual coolness returning. "Your arrogance will never fade, will it? But you know what, little rabbit? I like it, so now let's do some work." "Work can be done here, we don't need to go anywh__ " But Rhyle grabbed Mick’s hand—not roughly this time, but gently—and tugged him toward the door.
The ride was longer than Mick expected, but when they finally pulled up in front of a massive mansion, his breath caught in his throat. The mansion was magnificent, dripping with wealth and power. Its sheer size and beauty left Mick momentarily speechless.
Rhyle stepped out of the car and opened Mick’s door for him, a gesture that made Mick feel even more out of place. As Mick got out, he couldn’t help but admire the building in front of him. It was a far cry from his father’s cold, imposing house—this mansion, despite its grandeur, seemed... welcoming.
"Go on," Rhyle said, motioning for Mick to follow him inside.
As they walked through the grand entrance, Mick was greeted by a sea of bodyguards and staff. They all stood with straight backs, offering respectful nods to Rhyle, but their eyes flicked curiously toward Mick. Some even exchanged amused glances, clearly surprised by the charming young man’s presence. Mick, though usually confident, felt awkward under their gazes, especially after his recent breakdown.
"Who is he?" Mick heard one of the guards whisper. "The first person Boss has ever brought here."
"Must be important," another murmured.
Mick tried to ignore them, but he could feel his cheeks heating up. It wasn’t just their whispers that made him self-conscious. He knew his appearance was striking, even after crying so much. But now, with so many eyes on him, he felt more exposed than ever.
As they moved further inside, Mick looked up and noticed a graceful figure descending the grand staircase. A woman, tall and elegant, walked down slowly, each step deliberate. She had an air of authority around her, but her face held a gentle warmth that immediately put Mick somewhat at ease.
Rhyle’s mother.
Her dark hair was perfectly styled, and though she was in her early 50s, her beauty was timeless—she looked no older than her 30s. Her expression was neutral as she approached them, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes as she looked between Rhyle and Mick.
Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stood in front of them, folding her arms.
“Well, well," she said, her voice smooth and teasing, "So, this is the one my baby has been so interested in?"
Mick’s eyes widened as a blush spread across his cheeks, and he froze in place. Rhyle, meanwhile, groaned audibly, his hand running through his hair in exasperation.
“Mom,” Rhyle muttered through gritted teeth. “Please.”
But Susan Carson wasn’t about to stop there. Her gaze remained fixed on Mick, her smile widening as she saw his bashful reaction. "Can I ask your name, dear?" She ask. Mick nervously reply " I am Mick..Mick Williams."
"You can call me Susan, darling," she said warmly. "And don’t mind my son. He’s always been terrible at introducing his... special people."
Mick felt his throat tighten. "I’m not... I mean, we’re not..." He glanced at Rhyle, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "I’m just his assistant. We’re... nothing."
Susan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Is that so?" She looked between the two of them, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Well, assistant or not, it’s lovely to meet you, Mick."
Despite his awkwardness, Mick found himself liking Susan. She had an air of warmth that reminded him of what a mother should be like—not cold or cruel like his father, but genuinely kind.
Before he could respond, Susan clapped her hands together. "Well, now that you’re here, you must stay for lunch. I won’t take no for an answer."
Rhyle, sensing his mother was in full teasing mode, ran a hand down his face. "Mom, we don’t have time—"
"Nonsense," Susan interrupted, waving him off. "There’s always time for a meal. Besides, I want to get to know Mick."
Mick shot Rhyle a desperate look, but Rhyle simply sighed in resignation. He knew better than to argue with his mother when she had her mind set on something.
As they were ushered into the dining room, Mick couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in his chest. The mansion was beautiful, but more than that, it felt... alive. Unlike his father’s cold house, there was laughter here, and a sense of family. And, for a brief moment, Mick allowed himself to feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time: a sense of belonging.
YOU ARE READING
Broken promises
Storie d'amore**Description:** Mick Williams, a boy blessed with both looks and talent, lives under the shadow of his father's disdain. Despite being adore by everyone for his kind heart and gentle nature, he is haunted by the guilt placed upon him by his father...
