18. Chapter Eighteen

Rylan stepped into the observatory at the top of Casa del Rey, his eyes widening. When he had been summoned by one of Bautista's men that evening, he had expected something but not this.

The usually stark space had been transformed into an intimate, romantic setting. Candles in tall glass cases cast a warm, golden glow across the open space, their flames dancing in the gentle evening breeze that wafted through the high-arched windows. Soft, sensual music played from a hidden speaker, the melodic notes mingling with the distant sounds of the Colombian wilderness.

In the center of the space stood Bautista, devastatingly handsome in a dark, perfectly tailored suit. The fabric curved around his broad shoulders, accentuating his powerful presence without constricting him. His dark hair was slicked back, and his olive skin seemed to glow in the candlelight. As Rylan approached, the scent of Bautista's expensive cologne enveloped him, a heady mix of spice and musk that made his pulse quicken.

Bautista greeted Rylan with a slight smile, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made Rylan's knees feel weak. He extended a hand, offering Rylan a glass of white wine. "There you are," he murmured, low and intimate.

Rylan accepted the glass with a nervous laugh, his fingers brushing against Bautista's as he took it. "I feel a bit underdressed for the occasion," he joked, glancing down at the simple clothes Bautista had given him.

But Bautista's gaze raked his body with a look of pure appreciation. "Nonsense," he said, stepping closer and touching his thumb to Rylan's jawline. "You are lovely, as always."

A blush crept up Rylan's neck, and a pleased smile tugged his lips. He ducked his head, embarrassed and delighted. The kingpin's approval meant more to him than he cared to admit, and the fact that Bautista had gone to such lengths to create this romantic atmosphere made his heart flutter restlessly.

Bautista led him to a beautifully set table, and a buffet laden with a mouthwatering array of Colombian delicacies. The aroma of slow-roasted pork seasoned with garlic and herbs filled the air, making Rylan's stomach rumble in anticipation. Colorful platters of fresh fruits, including juicy mangoes, vibrant passion fruit, and succulent papaya, added a burst of sweetness to the spread. Alongside the main dishes were small bowls of what he recognised as spicy salsas, and the flat corn cakes that Rylan had grown to appreciate since he'd been brought to Casa del Rey.

"Sit," Bautista said, one hand on the back of the chair.

Rylan sat, feeling giddy with attention. This felt almost like a date, and as dates went, it was already better than many he'd suffered through.

As they began to eat, Bautista turned his attention to Rylan, his dark eyes intensely focused. "Tell me," he said, his voice velvet soft, "what was your life like before you came here? You grew up wealthy, did you not?"

Rylan nodded. "My father inherited from my grandparents, and my mother, well. She secured a trust fund for me when Dad divorced her, so I've always been comfortable."

Bautista absorbed this, watching Rylan still. "But you had passions. What were they?"

Rylan hesitated for a moment, surprised by the question. He took a sip of wine to gather his thoughts before responding. "I…I've always loved fashion design," he admitted, a wistful smile on his face. "I spent hours in school sketching designs and creating outfits for my friends. I studied fashion in college. And then I made a little atelier for myself. Not a label," he added with a self-deprecating smile. "My work is bespoke, you see. I, uh. I suppose it's like your tailor."

Bautista looked surprised. "My tailor?"

"Yes," Rylan said nervously. "I can tell you have your suits tailored. Whoever does it is very good. It's tricky when a man is as broad and muscular as you," he went on shyly, "to fit a suit that shows off their physique without looking like it's a size too small."

This seemed to amuse Bautista. "All right," he said.

Emboldened by his attentiveness, Rylan went on. "It wasn't always easy," he confessed, his voice tinged with sadness. "The media can be brutal, and I faced a lot of rejections along the way. But I made it work. I think…I think I was good at it."

Bautista hummed thoughtfully but did not reply.

Rylan felt more was expected of him. "But even though I had a good life," he said softly, "surrounded by friends and parties, it felt...empty somehow. Like I wasn't really living. Something was missing."

Bautista reached across the table, his large hand enveloping Rylan's smaller one. "You need someone to take you in hand," he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on Rylan's palm. "I think you're happier when someone to take charge of you."

Rylan felt a shiver overtake him. He knew Bautista was right—he had always longed for someone to take control, to make him feel cherished and protected. Shyly, he nodded in agreement, his heart racing.

Eager to shift the focus away from himself, Rylan asked, "What about you? If you weren't involved with the cartel, what would you do with your life?"

Bautista's dark eyes took on a distant, almost wistful look. "Do you know," he said softly, "why this house has an observatory?" Rylan shook his head. "So I can look at the stars."

Rylan blinked in surprise. "Like an astronomer?" he asked, trying to imagine the fearsome kingpin peering through a telescope, charting the heavens.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Bautista's mouth. "Exactly. The stars know our fortunes," he said, his tone almost reverent. "They hold the secrets of our destiny."

"An astrologer, then," Rylan said, astonished at this revelation.

"Nothing so formal." Rising from his chair, Bautista extended his hand. "Come," he said, his voice low and inviting.

Rylan took his hand, allowing himself to be led to the open part of the observatory. There, gleaming in the candlelight, stood a magnificent telescope. It was a beautiful instrument, crafted from polished brass and dark wood, its lens pointed towards the heavens.

Bautista positioned Rylan behind the telescope, his strong hands gently guiding him into place. Rylan quivered with excitement as Bautista's body pressed against his back, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of Rylan's shirt.

"Look," Bautista murmured, his breath warm against Rylan's ear.

Rylan peered through the eyepiece, gasping softly as the stars came into sharp focus. They were breathtaking, glittering like diamonds against the inky black sky.

Bautista's hands settled on Rylan's hips as he leaned in, his chest flush against Rylan's back. "Do you see that bright star there?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that Rylan could feel vibrating through his body. "That's Canopus. The second brightest star in the heavens—third if you count the sun. It's part of the constellation Carina."

"Cari?a?" Rylan asked.

Bautista chuckled, his lips brushing Rylan's ear. "No. Carina means keel—it's the keel of Argo Navis, the ship of Jason and the Argonauts."

As Bautista spoke his hands never left Rylan's body. They roamed over his hips, his waist, his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Rylan felt giddy, lightheaded with desire. He leaned back into Bautista's embrace, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by his strength, his power.

In that moment, nothing existed beyond the two of them and the stars above. The rest of the world fell away, and Rylan lost himself in the sensations of Bautista's touch, in the sound of his voice, in the promise that simmered between them.

He lifted his gaze and found Bautista watching him with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. There was a hunger in those dark eyes, a raw desire that seemed to burn through Rylan's very soul. He felt pinned in place, caught in the gravity of Bautista's presence.

Slowly, deliberately, Bautista pulled Rylan against his body, one strong arm encircling his waist while the other hand cupped the back of his neck. Rylan's breath caught in his throat, his pulse racing as he felt the heat of Bautista's skin through the layers of their clothing. He knew what was coming, and yet the first brush of Bautista's lips against his own still sent a shock of electricity coursing through his veins.

The kiss deepened, Bautista claiming Rylan's mouth with a possessive fervor that left him weak in the knees. Rylan melted into the embrace, his hands clutching at Bautista's shoulders as he surrendered. He could feel the power in Bautista's body, the coiled strength that simmered just beneath the surface, and it thrilled him in a way he had never experienced before.

Anxiety spiked in him, a fleeting moment of panic at the realization of just how much he wanted this, how much he craved Bautista's touch. But the fear was quickly subsumed by a deeper, more primal need. He wanted to give himself over to Bautista completely, to offer up every part of himself.

Bautista's hands roamed over his body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Rylan felt emotion swell in his chest. The words were there, three little syllables that threatened to spill from his lips unbidden. I love you. But he swallowed them, burying them deep inside himself. He couldn't say it, not now, not ever. Not to Bautista.

Instead, he poured his feelings into the kiss, into the way his body molded itself to Bautista's, into the soft gasps and moans that escaped him as Bautista's touch grew more insistent, more demanding. Rylan would give him everything, anything he wanted, and pray that he would understand without the need for words.

Rylan's heart ached as Bautista took his hand, interlacing their fingers. "Are you ready to come to bed?" Bautista asked, his voice low.

Rylan nodded eagerly, his body already thrumming with anticipation. "Yes," he breathed.

Hand in hand, they walked through the quiet mansion, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets. The house was dimly lit, the shadows seeming to dance and flicker in the corners of Rylan's vision. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world, moving through a secret, hidden space that belonged only to them.

Rylan's skin tingled where Bautista's fingers twined with his, the contact electric and thrilling. He could feel the heat of Bautista's body, the strength and power that radiated from him. It made Rylan feel strangely light, his heart lifting with every step.

By the time they reached Bautista's bedchamber, Rylan was aching, every nerve yearning for Bautista. The room was lit by a single lamp, casting a warm, golden glow over the rich, warm furnishings. The bed loomed large, its sheets turned down invitingly.

Bautista turned to face Rylan, his eyes smoldering in the dim light. He reached out, cupping Rylan's face in his rough palms. "Ah, cari?o," he murmured, his thumb brushing over Rylan's lower lip. "I want to devour you."

Rylan's breath caught in his throat, his heart swelling. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking on the word. "I need you, Bautista. I need you so much."

Bautista's hands reached for the hem of Rylan's shirt, sliding under it and over his skin. He murmured something soft, and Rylan sighed as those rough thumbs stroked his belly and up over his nipples. He let Bautista lift his shirt up over his head. His breath caught in his throat as Bautista's dark eyes roamed over his bare chest, something hungry in them.

His thumb traced the line of Rylan's collarbone, leaving tingling sparks in its wake. "You are so beautiful," Bautista murmured, his voice low and husky. He leaned in, capturing Rylan's lips in a slow, lingering kiss that left him breathless, helpless as Bautista pushed down his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

Bautista leaned back to look at him, arching an eyebrow in expectation. Blushing, Rylan stepped out of his pants, his heart pounding as he stood before Bautista in nothing but his underwear. But Bautista smiled and hooked his thumbs into the waistband, pulling them down slowly past his hips. Rylan's cock seemed to leap up, already aching with need.

There was something hungry in Bautista's eyes as he took in the sight of Rylan's slender body. They lingered on Rylan's erection, his nostrils flaring. "You have a pretty cock," he said, a strange note in his voice. Rylan licked his lip, watching as Bautista reached out to wrap his hand around Rylan's shaft, giving it a slow, teasing stroke.

Rylan let out a soft moan, his head falling back as Bautista's fingers caressed him. His skin burned with the heat of Bautista's breath as he leaned in to pressing a trail of kisses along Rylan's jawline. His lips found Rylan's, his tongue slipping into Rylan's mouth like it belonged there.

Being kissed by Bautista felt like too much, like the world, everything Rylan wanted. He let Bautista guide him towards the bed and lay down where Bautista urged him. The sheets were soft and cool, but Bautista's body was hot, burning through the fabric of his suit.

The disparity between them—Rylan naked and helpless, Bautista fully dressed and in control—made Rylan weak. Why was it so arousing?

Ah, of course. Because Bautista wanted it.

But then Bautista pulled away. Rylan lay panting on the bed. He watched silently as Bautista undressed and hung his suit on the back of a chair with deliberate care, as if drawing the moment out.

And then he was naked. His body was powerful, with its dark scars and the bright red of the roses tattooed across his chest. Rylan made a soft sound, lifting his hands to beckon Bautista down, and Bautista came, lying alongside him and pinning Rylan to the bed with one hand.

He kissed Rylan's mouth, his chest, his stomach, each touch sending sparks of pleasure cascading over Rylan's body. Rylan submitted to it, but he could not help quivering, gasping at each new touch. Bautista's lips on him…oh God, it was so wonderful.

As those lips moved lower, Rylan felt a thrill of anticipation. He tried to push it away. Bautista would never. He wouldn't. But his mouth slid down over Rylan's belly, kissing the hollow of his hip, and then, well, there was really only one place for it to go.

He braced himself, biting his lip. But then Bautista paused for a long moment. Rylan looked down to see him contemplating Rylan's cock, inches away from it, his expression taut.

Ah. Rylan said hoarsely. "You don't have to…"

Bautista shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "No, I don't."

And then he leaned down to take Rylan's cock into his mouth. Rylan let out a cry of pleasure as Bautista's tongue swirled around the sensitive head, his lips sliding down the shaft with a kind of desperate hunger.

Oh, oh, but it was clear he had never done this before, had perhaps never even wanted to. Rylan felt himself coming apart under the force of knowing that Bautista had chosen to do it anyway, had hungered for it perhaps. For me, God, please…

His hips bucked as Bautista's mouth worked on him, his fingers digging into the sheets as he fought to hold on. He could feel the tension building in his body, the pleasure mounting with each passing second.

Bautista's hands roamed over his body, fingers teasing and exploring as his mouth continued its relentless assault. Rylan could feel himself losing control, his body quaking with the force of his desire.

There was a finger at his entrance, pressing against him. But it was dry, and Rylan made an anguished sound. "Please," he said hastily. "Please…not dry…"

Bautista hummed, releasing Rylan from his mouth. Rylan panted, trying to catch his breath as Bautista took lube from the bedside drawer and coated his fingers with it. Then those fingers were back, circled Rylan's entrance, teasing him with the promise of what was to come. Rylan's breath hitched, and then Bautista's finger was pushing inside him, gentle but insistent.

Rylan's body gave way at once. It was as if it knew its master and welcomed him. Rylan let out a soft moan as Bautista added a second finger, stretching him open.

Bautista's voice was low and husky in Rylan's ear. "You're so tight, cari?o."

Rylan shuddered at the words, and he felt a surge of desire as Bautista's fingers curled inside him, hitting that spot that made his toes curl.

And then Bautista's fingers were gone, and he knelt between Rylan's legs, holding his cock in his hand and pressing against his entrance. Rylan exhaled, forcing himself to relax, waiting for the burn of penetration, but Bautista was oddly gentle, pushing in slowly, inch by inch.

Rylan let out a soft gasp as that cock slid into him, filling him completely. It was different now there was nothing between them. More intimate, more raw. He could feel every inch of Bautista inside him, and it was overwhelming.

Bautista began to move, slow and steady, his hips rocking against Rylan's. Rylan's body responded instinctively, arching up to meet Bautista's thrusts. He felt like Bautista was consuming him, losing himself in the sensation of Bautista's cock driving in. Bautista's eyes were closed, his lips parted in a silent moan. He seemed to be struggling with some deep emotion. The sight of his raw, unguarded expression left Rylan feeling strangely elated, and he clung to Bautista's shoulders, begging with his body for more.

Possessively, Bautista's hands roamed over Rylan's body, tracing every curve and line with reverence. The tender touch made him ache and lift his hips to press himself deeper into Bautista's embrace. He could feel the heat radiating from Bautista's skin, the beat of his heart pounding against Rylan's chest.

Bautista leaned down to whisper in his ear, "You belong to me." The words were said with such conviction that they sunk into Rylan like a promise. Bautista pulled back just far enough to look down at him, his eyes still glazed with desire. "Mine," he said with satisfaction.

Rylan's cock ached. Bautista's touch was driving him wild. He felt like he was on the edge of something, something big and overwhelming. And then Bautista's hand was on his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Rylan let out a strangled cry as he felt himself coming apart, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave.

He was too wrecked to do anything but surrender as Bautista drove into him, his ragged breath echoing in Rylan's ear. "Cari?o," Bautista groaned, his hips hitching as he spilled deep in Rylan's body. Rylan felt the pulse of it go through him like a heartbeat, and it tore a sob from his lips.

Bautista held him tenderly, so close their bodies were meshed together. He kissed Rylan's mouth as if he could never have enough of it, and Rylan kissed back, desperate to hold on to this moment.

His heart was full. He thought to himself, I love you, I love you, I always will.

Rylan stretched out languidly on the bed, his body still humming with pleasure. He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Bautista slid out of bed with a sigh.

"Okay, cari?o. That's it. Time to go."

Rylan blinked in confusion. "Go? But it's still early." He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one hand while letting the other trail down his bare chest. "Plenty of time for more, don't you think?" He smiled coyly, feeling bold and reckless with love for the man.

But Bautista shook his head. With a sinking sensation, Rylan saw that his expression was blank, emotions locked tightly away.

"Your father has paid your ransom. It's time for you to go home." Bautista's voice was flat as he turned to walk into the adjoining bathroom.

Rylan sat up, shock coursing through him. He scrambled out of bed, still naked, and followed Bautista into the bathroom. The man was already in the shower, under the spray.

Rylan swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "I don't understand. Don't I get a say in this?"

Bautista glanced at him, eyes cold. "You have never had a say in any of this, little prince. From the moment my men took you, your fate has been in my hands."

Rylan stared at him. The words wouldn't come. He watched, numb, as Bautista stepped out of the shower and began to dry himself with a towel. The man's movements were casual, as if he hadn't just shattered Rylan's world with a few cruel words.

"Did you forget you've been my prisoner all this time? My plaything." Bautista's voice was matter of fact as he rubbed the towel over his muscular chest.

Rylan's mind reeled. He thought of all the humiliations Bautista had put him through—the mocking, the teasing, the way he'd made Rylan beg for his touch. Had it really all been a game? A sick twist in his gut told him that Bautista was telling the truth. God, he'd known it all along, hadn't he? It wasn't as if Bautista had ever lied to him about that.

As Bautista began to dress, Rylan felt a rising panic. He couldn't let this happen. Couldn't let Bautista send him away.

"Please," he begged, his voice breaking as tears began to slip down his face. "Please don't do this. I love you, I'd do anything for you. My life... it's meaningless without you. I'm nothing. Please, please don't send me away."

The words poured out of him in a desperate rush. He couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't believe Bautista would do such a thing to him after everything they'd shared.

Bautista turned to him, his expression softening. He took Rylan's face gently between his palms, his thumbs brushing over Rylan's wet cheeks.

"None of your feelings are real, cari?o. The only reason you feel this way is because of what I did to you. I conditioned you to want nothing but what I want."

Rylan shook his head, refusing to believe it. But Bautista went on, his voice gentle but firm.

"Would you really want to be nothing but someone's plaything? Come now, you know better. I did this to you. And I did it for fun, that's all."

Rylan's heart shattered into a million pieces. He couldn't breathe through the sobs that wracked his body. Bautista's words cut like a knife, each one more painful than the last.

"Did ‘cari?o' mean nothing to you?" Rylan cried, his voice breaking. "Did you never care about me, even for a moment?"

Bautista's expression grew cold again, his eyes devoid of any warmth or affection. "Only a fool would believe anything different."

The words hit Rylan like a physical blow. He staggered back, his vision blurring with tears. How could he have been so na?ve, so stupid? To think that Bautista could ever love him, that he was anything more than a plaything to be used and discarded.

"Get dressed," Bautista ordered, his voice harsh. "Or go home naked. I don't care which."

Rylan stumbled to the dresser, his hands shaking as he pulled on his clothes. Each movement felt like a herculean effort, his body heavy with grief and despair.

As he dressed, the last shreds of hope that had sustained him through all the humiliations and cruelties finally crumbled to dust. Bautista would never love him. He had never loved him. It had all been a lie, a sick game played by a man who had always despised him.

He barely registered the hands that gripped his arms, leading him out of the room and down the stairs. He was numb, his mind a haze of pain and confusion.

Outside, a jeep waited, its engine rumbling in the dark. Rylan was shoved into the back seat, his body limp and unresisting. A gym bag was thrown in next to him, and the door slammed shut.

As the jeep pulled away, he twisted in his seat, desperate for one last glimpse of the house where he'd been broken.

To his shock, Bautista stood on the steps, his face an impassive mask as he watched Rylan being driven away. Rylan stared at the scene until the jeep turned in amongst the trees, and the house disappeared from view. Then he buried his face in his hands. Bitter tears streamed down his cheeks, filling his mouth with salt. He had never felt so utterly lost and abandoned. The future stretched out before him, bleak and empty. He was going home, but he would have done anything to stay.