30 Behind Closed Doors

30 Behind Closed Doors
30

Behind Closed Doors

Ryan pushed through the crowded club, one hand buried in his pocket. Heads turned instantly, whispers rippled, eyes widened. Women drifted toward him, hungry hands reaching, but he swatted them off with sharp claps of irritation. His glare froze them in place, yet their eyes still glittered with excitement.

They knew his reputation. If luck was on their side and his mood aligned, he’d pick one, fuck her senseless, and send her back with a story that made the rest ache for their turn. That was enough to keep them circling.

But tonight, Ryan wasn’t in a mood. His thoughts were a storm.

He made his way to the private lounge reserved for him, his friends, and the occasional client. Dropping into the leather chair, he sprawled his legs wide, jacket unbuttoned, shirt clinging like a second skin. His head tipped back, jaw tense, and eyes closed.

A waitress in uniform approached, biting her lip as her gaze devoured him. She smoothed her skirt, cleared her throat softly.
“The usual, sir?” Her voice was breathy, trembling with hope.

Ryan dragged a hand through his hair and let out a low sigh.
“Yes.” The word came out hoarse.

She nearly skipped away to the bar.
“The usual for Mr. Smith,” she called.

The bartender raised a brow. “Senior or junior?” He was already pulling out the bottle.

“Sir Ryan ofcourse,” she answered with a grin. “Sir Alexander rarely comes these days.”

“Exactly. Passed the torch to his son.” He slid the tray across.

She smirked. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” But her eyes glimmered with something more, envy, lust, a fantasy she didn’t bother hiding.

The bartender snorted. “Don’t fool yourself. You’ll never get beyond his bed. That’s all you’ll ever be. Especially with Ronda still alive and well.”

Her face hardened. She rolled her eyes, snatched the tray, and flipped him the middle finger before strutting off.

Inside the private room, the neon glow pulsed against silent walls. Ryan hadn’t moved. She set the drinks down with a delicate clink. He straightened slowly, uncapped the glass, and poured himself a drink.

“Anything else, sir?” she asked sweetly, leaning forward just enough.

His eyes flicked over her. Normally, even in a foul mood, he would have indulged, used her body as a way to burn out the noise in his head. But her hair caught the light, and for one maddening second, it looked exactly like Tessy’s.

Ryan’s jaw clenched. He exhaled sharply.
“No. Get out. And no one comes in until my friends arrive.”

The brightness drained from her face, but she knew better than to argue. Ryan Smith could be meaner than his father. She left without another word.

He sank deeper into the chair, glass in hand. He had agreed to meet his friends tonight, Matthew and Ronda but he knew the invitation had Ronda’s fingerprints all over it. She’d been whining again, acting as if sleeping with her gave her some claim over him. Complaints about other women. Petty jealousy.

He found her suffocating.

So he’d come early, before they arrived, to try and quiet the chaos in his head. To drown it out with alcohol.

But Tessy’s face refused to leave him.

Voices and commotion drifted from the entrance. Ryan raised a brow, head tilting toward the sound. The private pub was always guarded, two men stationed outside to keep the noise and chaos at bay. For there to be a fuss meant someone stubborn enough to press through.

One of the guards stepped inside.
“Sir, a Mr. Caleb is demanding to see you. We told him no disturbance, but he insists.”

Ryan’s frown deepened. Caleb. Victoria’s little pet who had barged into the company earlier that morning. What the hell does he want again?

“Let him in,” Ryan muttered. Better a brief irritation than a public scene and Victoria’s endless scolding later.

The door opened, and Caleb swaggered in, chest rising and falling like he’d just won a battle. Mischief gleamed in his eyes as he grinned at Ryan.
“Ryan! Nice seeing you again.” His gaze swept the room. “Not bad.” He flopped into the seat beside him without waiting for permission, already pulling a bottle closer.
“No other options here? Guess I’ll share yours then.”

His hand darted for Ryan’s glass. Ryan slapped it away, hard.
“What the hell are you doing here?”

Caleb chuckled, unfazed. “Oh, right. You don’t share cups.”

Ryan’s patience snapped. “What do you want?” His voice was low, edged with steel. He could’ve had the man thrown out, but that would only make Veronica unbearable and her attitude insufferable, and Caleb knew it.

“Relax. I’m not here to talk business,” Caleb said smoothly, leaning back. “I already accepted your decision this morning. I just thought…” He flashed a grin. “Why not hang out with my future brother-in-law?”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. He could smell the lie under the words. He knew exactly what this was, Caleb showing off for someone, proving he wasn’t just another of Victoria’s disposable flings.

And yes, Caleb was with his friends when Ryan came in and they dared him, had a bet, to get close to Ryan and spend minutes in the private pub to prove that he was not just Victoria fling. And now he was here to prove it.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Ryan sank into the chair, deliberately careless. Caleb, of course, took it as an invitation and cracked open the bottle, swigging straight from it.

Silence stretched. Ryan drowned in his thoughts until Caleb broke it.
“You don’t look too good. Something is bothering you?”

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose, unwilling to answer.

“You can tell me. You can talk to me and still not share too much.” Caleb pressed, grinning like he already knew. “Girls, right? Always girls.”

Ryan exhaled heavily. He couldn’t talk to Matthew, Matthew would run to Ronda, and that was worse. Bad. Bad bad. Against his better judgment, he spoke.
“Ever loved a girl… thought she was everything, only to realize later she was after your money? And now she’s back, and…” His words caught, his throat tight.

Caleb’s eyes gleamed. “And your body won’t listen to your brain.”

Ryan shot him a look.

Caleb shrugged. “It happens. You still want her. You’re just in denial because of how she hurt you.”

“She didn’t love me,” Ryan said flatly. “She wanted what I had. Made me question every word, every smile, was it real, or just part of the game?”

Caleb leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And that’s supposed to be a deal breaker?”

Ryan’s brow arched. “What the hell do you mean?”

“You’re rich, Ryan. Filthy rich. If she wanted security, so what? You can give her more than she’ll ever dream of. That’s not betrayal, that’s survival. You don’t get it, you’ve never had to fight for bread. Everyone needs safety. Maybe she found it in you.”

Ryan froze, Caleb’s words slicing deeper than he expected.

“You love her. That’s already enough. Don’t overthink it. If she’s back in your life and you still burn for her, why keep punishing yourself?” Caleb leaned back, smirking faintly. “Buddy, you’ve got everything. If it’s fixable, fix it. What are you waiting for?”

Ryan stared at him, torn. Then he rolled his eyes, lips twitching despite himself.
“You’re insane.”

But the hint of a smile betrayed him. Caleb was getting under his skin. Maybe he wasn’t so unbearable after all.

Caleb pushed off the chair, stretching. “I’ll leave you to it. And I promise not to tell your aunt a thing.” With a casual nod, he strolled out, clearly pleased with himself.

Ryan sat in silence, Caleb’s words echoing, clawing at places he didn’t want touched.

Minutes later, two silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Matthew and Ronda. They separated quickly, too quickly and Ryan’s lips curved into a cold smirk. Ronda squealed his name, clinging to him like a starved puppy, while Matthew avoided his gaze, guilt written all over his face.

Ryan leaned back, amused. They thought they were clever. They didn’t know he’d already figured it out that Ronda let Matthew fuck her when Ryan wasn’t looking. Pathetic. She craved Ryan but used Matthew as a filler, and Matthew, blinded by lust and loyalty, played along.

Ryan didn’t care. Not really. He was only keeping them close until he decided he was done. As long as they thought they were pulling one over him, it entertained him enough to tolerate their presence.
And as long as he knew what was happening behind his back, he would tag them harmless.

“What’s up, man?” Matthew said quickly, sliding into a chair. He grabbed Ryan’s glass and downed it, his eyes darting toward Ronda, who was plastered to Ryan’s side, jealousy flaring bright in his eyes.

Ryan only smirked. Dumb as ever.