Prologue

RYAN

Ryan had never felt so hopeless. Garrett was married and gone forever. They'd been divorced for almost three years, and the announcement in the newspaper hadn't come as a complete surprise, but still…

He sighed and tossed aside his phone. Time to get his ass in gear. Now that his license was suspended and he couldn't practice law, he needed a job. Remi had been a stand-up guy to lend him money to get his life back together, but Ryan needed to repay him, and that required a job with a steady paycheck.

The loan agreement sat on his nightstand—he kept the papers there as a daily reminder of how far he'd fallen. But there was something else. He picked up the second page and studied the sprawling signature of the attorney and witness to the agreement. He ran his fingers over the name. Logan's signature was as bold and arrogant as he was.

Logan Silver.

How long had it been since their shocking hookup at the Marquee—one year? Two?

He couldn't recall—time flew when you were getting high and drunk enough to escape everything you'd lost.

Sex with Garrett had been sweet and about giving each other pleasure, but Logan was a force. Hard. Demanding. Needy.

Ryan had never felt so thoroughly owned by another man. The marks left on his body had lasted for days, and he'd relished their soreness.

They'd run into each other at bar association meetings and events, and they'd danced around the sizzling attraction between them. Divorced and spiraling, it had taken a night fueled by too much alcohol and God knew what else for him to lay his desire bare.

Maybe deep down Ryan had hoped something might grow between them, but that had been nothing more than wishful thinking from a one-night stand. Their connection had burned hot and bright that evening, in the shadows of the Marquee, but it had obviously meant nothing to Logan other than another hookup. Not surprising, since the man possessed the killer trifecta: stunning looks, crackling-sharp intelligence, and money to burn. Logan Silver could have whomever he wanted, so why would that be a washed-up, messy failure of a man?

It sure as hell wouldn't be him, Ryan Matson, who'd clawed his way up to the summit of the mountain, and instead of planting that flag of ownership and beating his chest with his enormous accomplishment, chose to throw it in the air, and then watched as it all fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces that could never be made whole.

Upon the receipt of the letter informing him he'd been suspended from the practice of law, his dreams of success lay smashed to bits. Where once he'd been number one on everyone's lips, he was now a pariah. No one called to check up on him or just to say hello. None of his former colleagues, not his party friends, nor the clubbers he hung out with to get high.

He should've known. People only wanted a winner.

And Logan Silver wasn't a man to hang out with losers. He was at the top of his game. The man dined at the finest restaurants, wore the most elegant clothes, and rubbed elbows with the elite—the best of the best. Ryan no longer fit into that category, and he wondered what Logan had thought, reading Ryan's name on the loan agreement. He knew. It was what he saw every day reflected in the mirror.

Loser.

"The man is out of your league. Get over it."

He grunted and forced himself to get out of bed.

"Time to figure out how to make some money. They say pride goes before the fall, and man, you fell on your ass big-time. Get up and get moving."

Something would work out. It had to.

* * *

A month later, he was pushing a mop along the marble floor at the Sheraton hotel in Manhattan. Desperation had made him seek out jobs he would've never considered only five years earlier, but when the money Remi had lent him started to shrink at an alarming rate, he no longer had the luxury of choice. He hadn't even begun to think about repaying him—another albatross around his neck—but he knew he'd have to make an attempt, even if it was only a hundred dollars a month. Something to show good faith, because he was already behind on payments and while he doubted Remi would come after him, Ryan didn't want to end up owing him for the rest of his life.

With drugs on his arrest record, his selection of jobs was meager. The law might say it protected you, but Ryan knew that was a big, fat farce. Employers had a way of finding out your ugly past. A job working as a janitor in the hotel came along, and as he'd had no other opportunities, he took it.

He tried to keep away from booze and drugs, but it was damn hard, and with no one to talk to or give a damn if he lived or died, he'd indulge. After his shift ended, he'd sometimes party with a coworker and get high or have a few shots of vodka in the morning to get him through the misery of a day spent cleaning toilets. It steadied him. With the walls closing in and the beast of fear and loneliness crawling inside him, getting high was the only way to beat back that devil.

He was getting better, though. Not every day found him reaching for the bottle, and he planned to eventually wean himself completely.

Soon.

His manager, Luis, called him over.

"Ryan, make sure you go to the men's room in the lobby and clean out the trash and replace the toilet paper and soaps; then go do the ballrooms on the second floor."

"I was planning to, as soon as I finished the floors here." He tried to keep a pleasant face, but Luis rode him hard, especially once he'd found out his history as a disgraced attorney.

"Make it quick. We have a group coming in for a conference—some of your old compadres ."

His stomach bottomed out. "What're you talking about?"

Luis sneered. "You know. Lawyers. "

Pretending nonchalance, he shrugged. "I doubt I know anyone. There are a million lawyers in New York City. I'd better get going."

He hurried off, leaving Luis frowning. Stupid fucker. Luis loved belittling him and telling him his fancy law degree didn't mean anything anymore. He was right about that, though.

As he passed through the lobby, he glanced at the events board. The digital sign flashed with the names of all the groups meeting that day. Sure enough, the New York State Bar Contract Law Subcommittee was in Ballroom A.

"Good thing I don't know anyone."

Feeling more secure, he completed mopping the floor and, after loading a cart with supplies, stopped by the lobby bathroom before taking the service elevator to the second floor. A flood of suits meandered about, and to his dismay, he did see a few faces he recognized, so he put his head down and pushed his cart to the bathroom. Once inside, he cleaned the stalls and restocked everything.

As he opened the door to leave, a man smacked right into him. "Sorry," Ryan said with an apologetic smile that died the moment he made eye contact.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Logan's face froze with shock as his stunned gaze swept over him. "Ryan?"

In his uniform, carrying a bag of garbage in one hand and cleaning supplies in the other, there was no mistaking him for anything other than an employee. Flushing hot with humiliation, Ryan, without answering, pushed past Logan, dumped the items into the cart, and took off for the service elevator. He breathed a sigh of relief when Logan didn't come after him.

Why would he? Imagine me with Logan now. What a joke.

But he couldn't forget the hungry kisses they'd shared in the back of the club, the feel of Logan's hands on his naked skin.… The memory of the lusty encounter made him dizzy. The regret of his fall from grace tasted all the more bitter now that he'd seen Logan standing before him in his Italian business suit, fresh white shirt, and heavy silk tie. Ryan had made his choices and now had to live with them.

Those days are gone. The sooner you realize it, the better.

At six he clocked off his shift and picked up a fast-food burger on his way home. He entered his tiny apartment, kicked off his sneakers, and opened the bag. It wasn't a healthy diet, but it was cheap and tasty, and Ryan took a refreshing sip of soda. In his former life, on a hard day, he'd get high at a club and end up passed out somewhere…with someone.

Some vodka he'd bought over the weekend and stashed under the sink awaited. He imagined clutching the cool bottle, the icy liquid sliding down his throat, the sweet oblivion of alcohol burning through his blood, his problems drifting away in a white mist of nothingness.

The dumbfounded expression on Logan's face came to mind, and he pictured the pitying looks sent his way after he ran off. His stomach curdled, and his jaw hardened. He wouldn't let his embarrassment drive him to get drunk. Ryan closed his eyes, breathing deeply, willing himself to ignore the alcohol's siren call.

Not this time, motherfucker.

The urge passed, and he exhaled. Maybe there was hope for him yet. He could resist. Proud of his strength, he popped some fries into his mouth. He could do this. He would .

Someone knocked, but he ignored it. He'd learned long ago not to fall for that game. Open the door if you weren't expecting someone, and you got robbed or worse. He'd just taken a big bite of his cheeseburger when the knocking turned to pounding, and a voice joined in.

"Ryan. Open the door. It's me. Logan."

Fuck.

He swallowed and crossed the room to stand by the door, but he didn't open it. "Logan, who?"

"Not funny. Open up. Now."

Ryan hated to admit it, but that bossy, demanding tone was a bit of a turn-on. That, and remembering how Logan had gotten them both off in public at that club. Ryan wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, undid the locks, and turned the knob. An unsmiling Logan faced him.

"Okay. I opened it. Now you saw me." He pushed to shut the door, but Logan wasn't having any of that and shoved hard against it, sending him back several steps.

"Don't be an asshole." Logan strode inside. "What the hell is going on with you?"

Ryan glared at him. "I'm trying to eat my dinner. That's what."

Logan glanced at the table and wrinkled his nose. "Since when do you eat that shit?"

"Since I've been suspended from the bar, lost my job, and can't afford Per Se and Jean-Georges anymore," he spat out. "If you've come here to deride me for losing my license and working cleaning bathrooms, have at it." He opened his arms wide. "I'm an easy target. I'll save you the trouble. I fucked up, and I'm getting what I deserve. I know. I was a shit husband and dumb as hell to get sucked into the life."

Logan raised a brow and crossed his arms. "Yeah, I think that about covers it. But from where I stand, you're also lucky as hell."

Ryan snorted. "Yeah, lucky me. I didn't have to clean up someone's piss or vomit today."

"Don't whine about your problems to me." Logan grabbed his arms and shook him. "You are so fucking lucky Remi is a nice guy and gave you a second chance. I told him he was crazy."

"You would."

"I've known him for years. And yeah, I wouldn't want him to get mixed up with someone who's high and drunk all the time. He's not only a client. He's my friend."

"Well, bully for him," Ryan said bitterly. "Remi's got it all—money, looks, friends who stick by him, and my husband."

"Ex-husband. They're married."

"I know. I saw the announcement."

Still holding him, Logan's touch gentled. "What's happening with you?"

Ryan tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. "Nothing. I'm just trying to get my life in order."

"I know…I can't imagine it's been easy."

"No. It hasn't. It's been fucking hard. But I've been trying to stay sober since I was released from the hospital."

Logan massaged his shoulders. "Very good. Something to be proud of."

God, that felt good. He hadn't been touched in so long. No need to tell Logan about his occasional slipups. How he couldn't resist getting high after work. He didn't need a lecture. He wanted…goddammit, he wanted Logan's arms around him. He wanted someone to lean on for once. Someone to tell him it would be okay.

"Thank you," he whispered, hanging his head. "It's been isolating, doing it on my own. I go to meetings and have a sponsor I can check in with whenever I want, but still…sometimes I think, why bother? Maybe I should just disappear. No one would notice."

More lies, as he hadn't been to a meeting in weeks. What was the point? Sitting in a room and listening to people talk about their lives and misery wasn't going to help him. He already knew what he'd lost. Lying to Logan was as easy as lying to himself.

Logan tightened his grip. "Don't say that."

He lifted his chin to meet Logan's eyes. "Why not?"

"I would care."

Ryan chuckled. "Come on, Logan. You haven't thought of me in ages."

"That's not true." Logan's gravelly voice softened. "I remember. That night at the Marquee."

Pretending nonchalance, Ryan shrugged, but he hadn't forgotten Logan touching him, or the blinding orgasm his touch had pulled from him. "Yeah, it was a hot hookup."

"It was."

"So? I'm sure you've had plenty."

Logan's grin was wry. "Lately not as many as you might think. And you…you were special."

Ryan snorted, unwilling to fall for Logan's sweet words. "Yeah, sure. I bet you say that to everyone. Were you hoping to come here and get laid? Did you figure I'm so desperate, I'd be ready and willing like I was that night?"

"I don't think you're desperate. I think you're doing what you need to survive, and it's admirable. I just wanted you to know that if you need a friend, I'm here."

Stunned, Ryan stared at him. "You? A friend?"

Logan winced. "I guess I deserve that. But really, Ryan, you weren't exactly trying to connect with me either. I'm not into the hot-and-heavy party scene. I don't do drugs, and I prefer to spend my nights with a companion who'll at least remember whom he had sex with the next morning."

Ryan grimaced. "Okay. So why…why did it happen in the first place? Why did you kiss me at the club?"

Logan's gentle fingers skimmed over his face, and Ryan shivered with desire even as he burned. "I always thought you were sexy as hell. But you were married."

Ryan's heart hammered. "I'm not married anymore."

Logan gripped his chin, and Ryan grew hard. "No, you're not. But you also have a lot on your plate."

"And you don't need someone who doesn't fit in with your lifestyle."

Steely sparks shot from Logan's eyes. "Did I say that?"

"You don't have to. You're gorgeous and rich, and you can have anyone you want. And you do. I won't be a back door for you to dip your wick when you're between those dinners at Jean-Georges. I'm no one's pity fuck."

Logan's mouth met his with brutal intensity, and Ryan moaned and clung to him. Their tongues battled, and Logan sucked and bit his bottom lip. He let Ryan go and held him by the shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle. "I don't pity you, but I won't deny I want you again."

Ryan gathered his fractured wits. "I-I'm not ready to sleep with you. As much as I want to, I have to get my head on straight." God, he was such a good liar. Another kiss, and he'd give Logan everything he wanted. He drew in a shaky breath. "I think it would be a bad idea to have sex with you."

"I respect that." Logan nodded. "But you can always use another friend, right?"

"Party of one, no waiting," Ryan joked. "You'll own the top spot." It wasn't easy to admit. "I don't have any friends left from the past, but it's okay. It—it isn't easy to go it alone, but if that's the only way, then I'll do it. I have to."

"I mean it, Ryan. I'll be there for you. People are allowed to fuck up. It's how they recover from it that shows their true colors."

"I want to," he said with fervor he hadn't admitted to anyone, most of all himself. Maybe this was his turning point. He could do it if he had someone in his corner. "I know I was to blame for losing Garrett. I didn't love him like I should've."

"Was it the money?" Logan challenged him, and he flushed with shame.

"Not at the very beginning, but when I found out how much he had? Yeah, I made sure to lock it up and marry him. But I was wrong. I'm just sorry I hurt him so badly. I said some nasty, stupid things I'm ashamed of. He's a great guy, and he deserved better."

"You're right. Garrett's a sweetheart, and he and Remi are ridiculously happy now. He's better off." Logan pulled him closer. "Just so you know, I wouldn't be so nice if someone fucked me over like that," he rumbled.

"I-I know." Ryan gulped, but that growly, possessive tone did turn him the fuck on. "I'd never do it again. I learned my lesson." His dick throbbed, but he remained resolute and pulled away from Logan. "It might be a while."

"Get yourself straightened out and healthy. That's what matters."

"You're not the same person you were when we hooked up," Ryan mused. "What's changed?"

Grief clouded Logan's eyes. "My father died. And in the hospital, he told me he wished he could know I was settled and happy. I'm forty-four, and seeing all these people in the clubs almost half my age…I don't want to be one of those ridiculous old men they talk about who's always on the hunt. I know the reputation I have, and while it was earned, I don't have to like it. Not anymore."

"No, but it's a pretty drastic turnaround. You got us off in public, in a club."

Logan turned red. "Would you believe it if I said that was the first time for me? But you were so fucking hot, and though I knew you were high, I was so turned-on, I couldn't help myself. Do you resent me for it? If so, I'm sorry."

"I don't resent you," Ryan admitted. "I wasn't so high that I didn't know exactly what I was doing. I wanted you. And I haven't forgotten that night either. But if things end up progressing, I'd want more between us than sex," he said, surprised by his own honesty.

"I understand. You know, I was invited to Remi and Garrett's housewarming, and seeing them so happy and planning a future…it got me thinking. I don't want to be alone anymore. I want one special person to be happy I'm there for them. And have me be their support."

This wasn't the Logan Silver he knew.

Then again, he didn't really know Logan. He barely knew himself.

"I think everyone wants that. Trust me"—his gaze swept over the ratty little studio—"living here is no picnic."

"You don't have to." Logan's distaste for his apartment was so patently obvious, Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's not like I can afford anything better."

It wasn't often Logan showed uncertainty—not from what Ryan knew of him. But now Logan opened his mouth, chewed the inside of his cheek, and licked his lips. Ryan waited. "I have a second bedroom. Move in with me."

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. You've said you're not ready for anything beyond friendship, and I'm fine with that. But friends help friends, especially ones in need."

"You can't mean it."

"I don't say things I don't mean, Ryan. Let me help you."

Guilt swirled through him even as he considered Logan's incredibly generous offer. Logan believed he was sober and attempting to put his life together. He had no idea Ryan still used. Maybe this would be the turning point for him. Maybe he could do it.

"Okay. Thanks, Logan. You won't regret it."