Chapter Text
“58... 59... 60! Ready or not, here I come!” Shane shouts into the silence of the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the tall curtain in front of the floor-to-ceiling window swaying slightly. Shane smiles to himself, he’ll have to remind her that she can go anywhere on the first floor when they play hide-and-seek. Though he is somewhat relieved she’d chosen a spot quite literally five feet away, the first floor was fucking huge.
“Hmm.” Shane muses, “Where could Mila be?”
He walks toward the couch, lifting up the cushions and looking under, making a show of it. “Not under the sofa!” He says, loudly. A smile tugging at his lips yet again at the giggle he hears from behind the curtain.
Next, Shane goes to the opposite end of the ginormous window, pulling back the curtain there, “Not behind this curtain!” He says again. Another laugh. He heads to where Mila is hiding, the small snickers suddenly hushed at his noticed proximity.
In a swift motion, he yanks the curtain back, “Aha! Found ya!” He rejoices as Mila laughs gleefully, trying to run away, though he catches her with one arm and softly throws her over his shoulder. She erupts into giggles, flailing her limbs somewhat wildly as Shane plops her onto the couch, then himself next to her. Catching his breath from his own laughter, Shane turns his head to check the time on the glowing clock of the oven.
“Alright Miss. Mila. 8:30. Time for bed.” Shane announces, shifting back to Mila. “Oh don’t pout. We were supposed to go upstairs and get you ready 15 minutes ago.”
“But Shaneee.” She whines, dragging out the syllable.
“Milaaa.” He teases. “C’mon, let's get you changed. Your dad will be home soon.”
That has the girl on her feet and heading towards the stairs. Getting her to sleep is easier than normal, maybe the 15 extra minutes helped, because she was snoring softly practically the second Shane whispered goodnight. He quietly cleans up her room, pulling the stuffed animals off of the little stools and back in their place, after a very luxurious tea party from a few hours before. Leaving the door to her room cracked, Shane went back downstairs, washing the few stray dishes left over from dinner, then grabbed the familiar white envelope from the counter. He tidies the living room, sitting carefully on the couch by the fluffed pillows, waiting for Mr. Rozanov to get home.
Shane really liked this job. Mila is adorable, and for a six year old she is extremely independent. She’s a good kid, which makes Shane’s duties much easier. He had been babysitting for her for about a month now, he was enjoying it. But there was one thing that... bothered him, so to speak.
Her father.
Ilya Rozanov. The CEO of some big finance corporation, who took over the company after his father passed away. The same company that Shane’s own father worked at.
The first time Shane met Ilya, he had been visiting his father there. Shane, his mother, and his dad’s sister had come to surprise him at work and take him out to lunch for his birthday. His aunt also brought her young daughter, Anna, who was only five. Shane had been waiting with her in the lobby, when she wriggled her small hands free of his grasp and bolted toward the glass doors.
“Anna–hey, wait–” Shane lunged after her, catching her just before she collided with a very tall man. A very tall, very expensive looking man.
Shane straightened quickly, picking Anna up and holding her against his hip. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. She just, uh, is a bit of a flight risk.”
The man looked down at Anna first. Shane relaxed a bit, he didn’t seem annoyed or irritated. Maybe even slightly amused.
“And where are you running to?” The man asked her, voice accented.
Anna buried her face in Shane’s shoulder, shy at the sudden attention. Shane huffs. “I’m really sorry again. Of course she’s shy now.”
A corner of the man’s mouth twitched. Up close, he was... distracting, to say the least. Blond hair styled perfectly, sharp cheekbones, deep, piercing blue eyes.
“No problem.” The man said, “And you are?”
“Oh. Uh. Shane. My dad works here. We’re taking him to lunch for his birthday.”
Recognition flickered across the man’s face. “Ah. You are David Hollander’s son?”
Shane blinked. “Um. Yeah.”
“Ilya Rozanov.”
The name clicked to Shane almost immediately. Of course. Everyone in the building knew that name.
Shane nearly dropped the child. The child that almost just took out the richest man in Canada.
“Oh.” He adjusted Anna on his hip. “Like uh... the Ilya Rozanov?”
“Yes. Like the Rozanov.” The larger man smirked down at him, Shane suddenly felt small.
Anna finally peeked up at him. “You’re tall.”
Ilya crouched slightly, so they were eye level. He smiled softly at her. “I have been told.”
Shane watched, surprised, as Anna slowly held out her stuffed rabbit toward him. Ilya accepted it as if it was a formal business contract.
“Thank you.” He said softly.
Anna giggled. Shane felt something about the man, or maybe in the air... shift.
“You are good with her.” Ilya said, straightening again, shifting his soft smile to Shane.
He shrugged. “Kids like me.”
“And do you like them?”
“Well, yes.” Shane said. “I babysit sometimes. It’s easy money.”
Ilya hummed softly at that. There was a pause. He seemed to be thinking, calculating. Then–
“I have a daughter.” Ilya said. “She is six. Milena. Mila.”
Shane shifted Anna to his other hip. “Cool.”
“She does not like most babysitters.”
Shane raised a suspicious brow at him. “That sounds like a Mila problem.” The smirk came back.
“Yes. Perhaps. Or maybe it is a babysitter problem.” Ilya offered.
“Would you be interested–” He continued casually, as if discussing quarterly profits. “–in working for me.”
“Oh. Well–um. I–”
“It pays well.”
Shane hesitated. “I usually charge twenty-five an hour.”
“Done.” Ilya responded immediately, without a second thought.
Shane frowned. “You don’t even know if I’m good.”
Ilya smiled at him. “Like I said, you are good with her. And I am good with these things. Very perceptive.”
“I will have my assistant send you the details.” Ilya said smoothly. “If you are interested.”
Although if Shane was honest, it didn’t really feel like an ‘if’. It felt like a decision that had already been made.
Shane wasn’t sure why he agreed. Or why his pulse was suddenly ringing loudly in his ears. But he nodded anyway.
“Yeah.” He said. “Okay.”
So, he babysat. The first time he did so he realized just how fucking rich the guy really was. The house was huge. It wasn’t even a house. Castle was a better word for the residence of Ilya Rozanov. Shane couldn’t, still can’t, grasp how one can accumulate this much wealth. The guy was fucking loaded.
So loaded in fact that he had repeatedly attempted to give Shane way more money than he charged, or earned for that matter. The bills usually sat on the kitchen island, a neat stack, tucked inside an envelope with a lazy Shane scrawled on the back. The first time he watched Mila, Shane grabbed the envelope from the counter, opening it when he got back to his tiny apartment to see the correct amount of money inside.
Then the next time, he did the same, only when he got home there was an extra $100 bill. Thinking it was only a mistake, Shane returned a few days later, along with the extra bill.
“Mr. Rozanov you accidentally gave me this last time.” Shane had said, holding the bill out to him.
“Ah.” His assessing gaze fell upon Shane as he slowly lifted his hand to take the outstretched piece of paper. He stops mid-air. “You could keep it.”
“W-What? No. I don’t charge that much. But um. Thank you? Uh– I should go. Goodnight Mr. Rozanov.” Shane practically scurried out of the house, shoving the money into his hand. Though he swore he saw a smirk on the man’s face. When he got home that night and opened the envelope, Shane groaned. An extra 200 this time. Was this guy so rich that he didn’t even look at how much he was paying Shane?
When Shane went back again, he opened the envelope in the house, after Mila was asleep.
“Jesus Christ.” Shane murmured as he held his pay in his right hand, and an extra three hundred fucking dollars in his left. He tucked his money back in the envelope, then placed the extra, along with the two hundred from last week, onto the kitchen counter. He waited diligently for Ilya’s return.
“Mr. Rozanov. Mila is asleep, has been for about 45 minutes. Um. You’ve given me too much money again.” Shane said awkwardly, blushing as he did, “I uh– left it on the counter. My rate is $25 an hour. Just to... y’know, remind you–”
“I know.”
“Oh. Okay. Well that’s... good. Wait.. what?” Shane was really fucking tired and he was pretty sure that Rozanov just told him that he knew how much money Shane charged, knew that he was giving Shane way too goddamn much of it.
‘This guy is kinda a dick.’ Shane thinks. What? Just fucking flaunting how much money he had? Literally why else would he be doing this? Shane had no idea and he was much too tired to think about it so he just mumbled a goodbye and left the house.
It has happened every single time Shane has come to babysit. But he kinda just assumed that... yeah, Ilya was so rich that he probably didn’t realize how much money he was giving Shane. He probably reached into his stuffed full wallet, grabbed some cash, and put it into an envelope. Ilya Rozanov could probably flush a million dollars down the toilet and not notice it was gone.
Shane had also briefly considered that maybe Ilya was just bad with math.
However, he then remembered that Ilya was the CEO of a huge finance corporation, so that was quickly crossed off the list of possibilities.
Also, Ilya was... loaded. Yes. And–
Hot.
So fucking hot.
However ‘hot’, was not the correct adjective to describe this man. He was a fucking god. Beautiful in every way, tall, smart. And oh my god, his body.
Has Shane mentioned handsome? Well Ilya is. If this line of work somehow doesn’t work out for the guy, he could easily be a model.
Safe to say Shane kinda, sorta, most definitely had a crush on him.
Which was silly for two reasons. One being that Shane was, well Shane. He was pretty boring, honestly. Certainly not rich and definitely not as handsome as Ilya. Shane thought so at least. Ilya was way out of his league. Like, light years. He would probably laugh at the prospect of being with Shane.
The second reason being that it was probably, certainly, most undoubtedly, unprofessional.
Sitting on the couch, Shane grabs the envelope sitting next to him and unseals it. It’s one of the thicker ones he has received, so he prepares himself as he pulls the contents out.
Shane gasps. He didn’t prepare for this.
Usually he is here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but earlier today, Saturday, Ilya had called Shane and said there was an emergency at work, that he had to go in. Mila’s mom, Svetlana, was also busy. Of course Shane accepted, he loved Mila. He honestly didn’t mind spending his day off here.
Except it had only been four hours. Meaning that Shane earned a total of $100 today. One, 100 dollar bill was all he needed.
Instead in his hands he held twenty of them.
Twenty.
Two thousand dollars.
This could, quite literally, not in any way, be a fucking mistake.
He is somewhat pulled from his thoughts by the one occupying them. Shane distantly hears the front door click shut, shuffling, and then footsteps headed his direction. Though he can’t take his eyes off of the clean, crisp, bills in his hands. His blood is roaring in his ears, he feels far away.
Shane thinks Ilya might have said his name, though he isn't quite sure. Shane can feel him getting closer, but he’s frozen. Frozen staring at the two thousand fucking dollars in his hands.
“Shane.” He hears his name. Knows where it's coming from, but he can’t focus on it. He’s too far away.
“Shane.” He hears again. “Are you okay?”
Ilya crouches before him, “Shane.” He says again.
It isn’t until Ilya tentatively places his hand on Shane’s knee, that he snaps out of it. His head rises slowly, meeting Ilya’s worried gaze.
“There you are.” Ilya says fondly as he takes his hand away. Shane unhelpfully thinks he’d like Ilya to put it back. “Are you okay?”
Brain emerging from its fog, Shane manages, “uh. Yeah? I–I guess. It’s just. Um.” Shane stumbles on his words, eyes flicking between the cash and Ilya.
He notices Ilya follow his line of sight down to the paper in his hands, he watches as a slight smirk tugs at the man’s perfectly shaped lips.
“Yes?” Ilya prompts.
“Well. Mr. Rozanov–”
“Ilya.” He offers.
“Mr. Rozanov–” Shane continues, “–you… you gave me, like a lot of money. Like way, way too much money. One thousand nine hundred dollars more than needed. I– I’ve tried to ignore it. All the times before. But this–”
Shane takes a deep breath in, “This is entirely too much.” He meets Ilya’s eyes again, an expression behind them he can’t quite grasp. “Why?”
“What?” Ilya says, brows furrowed.
“Why are you doing this? When you know it’s too much?”
“I don’t need it. I have quite a bit of it, yes? Money.”
“Okay?”
“Well maybe you need it more than me.”
Shane frowns. “I’m not some charity case.”
“No Shane. No, of course not.” Ilya sighs and sits himself next to Shane on the couch. Their knees are touching as Ilya settles, the slight brush sends a wave of electricity through Shane. His blood is thrumming under his skin. He’s never been this close to Ilya before. The proximity is making his brain malfunction, along with the sheer amount of money the beautiful man had given him.
He is also frustrated. Confused. Shane sets the money on the coffee table and pulls his leg back, just enough.
“Then what is this?” He gestures to the stack of bills on the coffee table. “Because it’s not my rate.”
Ilya didn’t glance at the money. He looked at Shane. Only Shane. Cool, deliberate, like he was studying him. “You are good with Mila.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“You are.” Ilya said simply. “And that is enough for me.”
Shane laughed dryly, almost bitter. “You don’t hand your accountant two thousand dollars for being good at math.”
“You are not my accountant.”
“I’m your employee.”
Ilya’s jaw tightens slightly at that. “Yes.”
“And employees don’t get thousands of dollars more than they earned unless their boss wants something.” The words came out before Shane could stop them.
Ilya leans back slightly, one arm draped over the back of the couch, casual. Unbothered, but his eyes sharpen. “And what exactly do you think I want?”
Shane swallows. He hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. “I don’t know! That’s the problem. You keep giving me money I didn’t earn, and then you look at me like... like you’re waiting for me to–”
“Waiting for you to what?” Ilya cuts in smoothly.
“Like you’re... I don’t know, testing me or something.” Shane said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Like I’m some puzzle you want to solve.”
In the silence, Ilya studies him in that unnerving, deliberate way. Like he’s evaluating a business proposal.
“You can’t just buy people.” Shane says finally, quiet but firm.
“I am not trying to buy people.” Ilya says, voice steady.
Shane lets out a frustrated breath. “Then what are you doing?”
A pause, long enough to make Shane’s stomach twist. His irritation was bubbling over, but somewhere under it, his pulse was... faster. Almost, excited.
You can’t just buy people.
But Shane thought that maybe Ilya was trying to buy him. The thought made him... blush. Fucking ridiculous.
“Just you.”
Shane stares at him. Maybe he hadn’t heard Ilya correctly. “What?”
“I am not trying to buy people, just you.” Ilya repeats evenly.
Okay so Shane definitely heard him correctly. Heat crawled up his neck, chest tight, frustration mixing with something else–something dangerously exhilarating. Shane hated that he maybe kind of liked that.
Maybe.
“That’s not– that’s worse.”
Ilya’s mouth twitches. “Is it?”
“Yes!” Shane stands abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get to say that like it’s normal! I’m not– I’m not for sale.”
“I know that.” Ilya said softly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He stands as well, taking a step closer to Shane. “And yet here we are.”
“Here we are? What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means you keep returning the money.” Ilya says. “Which means you are not for sale. Which also means I have to try a different approach.”
“Different approach?” He repeated, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. The truth was, he was curious, flustered. And yes, a little thrilled.
Ilya’s eyes darkened just slightly, calculating. “If you do not want the money.” He said quietly, leaning closer, “Then perhaps you can give me something else.”
Shane blinked. “What... Something else?”
“Dinner–” Ilya said simply. “–one dinner. No money. Just... time. Me and you.”
Shane’s head spun, he ran a nervous hand through his hair once again. “You’re– I’m... I’m not some luxury you get to indulge.”
“Yes. I know. But I would like to try.”
Shane groaned, head lolling back in annoyance. Part of him wanted to argue. Part of him wanted to run. Part of him wanted to lean into that idea– that someone as impossibly rich and impossibly handsome as Ilya Rozanov actually wants him. Or at least.. his time. Not to mention he had been crushing hard on the man for a month now.
“This is insane.” Shane tried to reason, mostly with himself.
“Perhaps.” Ilya acknowledges.
“You’re my employer.”
“Yes.”
“This is inappropriate.”
“Yes.”
Shane drags a hand down his face. “And also a terrible idea.”
“Most interesting things are.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I have been told.”
Shane huffs out a breath. His pulse is still racing, but it’s not just anger anymore. It’s something heavier. Something charged. It's electrifying.
“Fine.” Shane muttered finally. “One dinner.”
Ilya’s smirk deepened, slowly, victoriously. “Good. You won’t regret it.”
And Shane hates that it kinda feels as though he just agreed to something much bigger than a meal.