Chapter Five
Ryder
“ C ome on. I’ve never met her in my life.”
I shouldn’t be pissed off, but I am. Secret lover? Jesus. And Elliot actually believes this shit? Problem is I don’t know how to explain my way out of this and not make myself sound like a giant douche.
Say I wouldn’t sleep with the woman in the photo? I look like a douche. Explain that having a secret lover means a relationship? Douche.
So I don’t explain a thing. Elliot can believe me or not. I have no reason to lie, so I say that. “This is just someone riding on the coattails of the other scandal. There’s no reason to lie to you. I hired you to fix things for me. I’m not into hiding anything.”
“I’ll see what I can do and get this to go away. In the meantime, you now also don’t do anything outside of work without me knowing. Is that clear?”
“Like glass.”
“Good. I think we should come up with an itinerary—”
“Excuse me?” I call a car on my phone and give her my most neutral look. “I’m not a child.”
“You want to change or at least appear to change, or what?”
It takes less than a minute for one of the Sinclair town cars to pull smoothly up to the curb and I open the door and gesture for her to get it. She’s tall, so she doesn’t have to lift her chin too far to meet my gaze. And hers is positively straight from the darkest period of the ice age.
I don’t answer and it’s a silent battle of wills. Normally, I’d go the charm route, a little smooth talking, compliments, warm glances. She doesn’t like those and I’m not here to seduce her—whether it be out of her panties or me into her good books. So I wait. Behind us horns honk and people scream abuse as they want the parking spot, which is a coveted thing in this city.
“What I want is for you to get in the fucking car.”
She’s about to say something, but Elliot shakes her head instead and gets in and I take a moment to admire her ass as she does so. Her outfit doesn’t do it justice, but the way her trousers stretch across it does.
I follow and clip my seatbelt on. Then I tap my fingers against the door’s armrest. “I don’t need an itinerary. This isn’t political, this isn’t even me trying to win the favor of the public—”
“No, but you’re trying to win favor and prove you’ve changed, so to do that, you have to. Appearance wise and behavioral. If it was going to be easy for you, you wouldn’t have hired me, Ryder.”
“You got that right. But I don’t need an itinerary. My life is ruled by that bullshit enough.”
Her glance is long and thoughtful and she crosses those long legs. Because even in the trousers, her unflattering trousers, they’re definitely the mile-long type of leg. “Structure, Ryder, is important here. It’ll keep you out of trouble and your life ordered.”
“Order is the bane of the gods.”
Her mouth twitches a little as she clearly tries not to smile. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Well,” I say darkly as the world of Manhattan shifts past us in the window of the car as we make our way to SoHo. I’m assuming she’ll want to be at her office. “It should be.”
“I’m not the enemy. And all my clients have an itinerary. It helps.”
“Thing is, I have meetings that pop up, events. There are impromptu meals and drinks that are basically meetings in disguise. Many deals are lost or made over a drink or three.”
“And in a strip club, no doubt,” she mutters. “Which are off your schedule.”
I open my mouth to say I don’t go to places like that, but it’s a lie. I joke about them with my brothers, but there are plenty out there who want places like that, and I go when I have to. There’s an underlying sleaze to many, and there’s also an honesty. Again, it’s not something I’m about to say to this woman.
“You’re in luck. I don’t have anything like that penciled in on my dance card.”
This time she does smile. “Or high class places where the waitstaff are barely clad.”
“Now you’re trying to ruin my life.”
“Four weeks, Ryder. I’m sure you can manage.” She pulls out her phone and mine pings a few seconds later. “Go through that. Places to keep away from, places you can go.”
I look at my phone and shake my head. Her list is long. “Half the board of Sinclair’s go to these places.”
“Half the board isn’t trying to keep Sinclair’s within their namesake family’s grasp.”
“If it’s fine with you,” I say with heaping amounts of sarcasm, as if she hadn’t made a salient point, “I have a whole bunch of meetings today—”
“Wear your most conservative suit.”
“—and then I have to meet my brother and then go home.”
We pull up outside her office, double parking on Prince Street, and she opens the door and gets out. Then she turns and bends to look at me. “Report in after.”
As she slams the door and disappears into the building, I’m unsure whether she’s serious, but I find myself smiling.
“You walk and talk like Ryder,” Kingston drawls, “but the way you dress and who you were in there…have you been body snatched?”
I give him my filthiest look as I pull at the most boring tie I own. I look like a banker.
We’ve just come out of my fourth meeting of the day. My actual business where I make my money—as in mine and not family—was conducted before that redheaded Elliot demon with the intriguing mouth, terrible suit, and long legs turned up at my door. Then I had meetings for that.
The rest of my day’s been spent on business here and there and finally this meeting with the board. It seemed regular enough, but I know our mother and she watched like an evil hawk. I’m leaving with Kingston; the others are gone already for their various duties before we meet about this whole thing.
“Ryder?”
I stop as my mother’s voice holds a certain tone and Kingston slaps me on the back. “Meet you at Hud and Scarlett’s.”
“Asshole. Turncoat. Benedict Arnold of the real estate world.”
He just waves a hand and saunters out of the Madison Ave office building that’s been in the family for a couple of generations.
“Mother,” I say, giving her my most charming smile, one she refuses to be charmed by. “You bellowed?”
“You haven’t changed that much, even if you’re dressed up.”
I bite down on a sigh. Of course, Elliot’s right in the clothes she went for. But me, not. This is pure not. But I keep this suit for funerals, court cases when and if they happen and…well, this.
“You’re taking a huge interest.” My gaze flickers to the door where Jenson stands, on his phone, making it clear he’s not looking, which says he’s paying attention.
She purses her lips. “I always take an interest in family business.”
“A little closer than usual, I’d say.”
“Ryder, everyone saw all that stuff today. The board won’t say it, but they’re not happy.” She draws in a breath and glances at Jenson, then back to me. “I’m going to be a bigger part than usual in this.”
I narrow my eyes. “What’s your interest?”
“You.”
“What is your real part in all this, mother?”
She smiles sweetly. “It’s in that word. I want to make sure things are done right by my sons and your scandals haven’t helped. The company could be lost, Ryder, if you don’t clean up your act. Your father built that clause in to make sure you flew right. And…and I shouldn’t be telling you this, but there will be four meetings of the board. The last one is where the decision is made. If you have the capability to truly change. Which is why I’m there. I know you best. I’ll know. And I can’t go easy on you.”
My mother rises up and kisses my cheek. “I have faith. So don’t let me down.”
And as she leaves with Jenson, I wonder what her agenda really is.
Because she’s the one woman I can’t hoodwink.
“Really?”
My so-called siblings grin. I’m with their better halves who look both embarrassed and annoyed.
“What?” Hudson looks at the board and at me. “Too ornate?”
“No, it’s fine. Top quality chalk. Maybe if we got him some strippers to carry it…” Mag says, earning an elbow to the ribs from Zoey. “Ow.”
I point at Hud. “You’ve changed.” Then at Mag. “You haven’t.”
“Here,” says Scarlett. “Have a drink. It’ll cheer you up. I’m on your side.
“Me too.”
I throw myself in a seat and take the proffered drink and glare at the chalkboard. “You’re actually taking bets?”
“Well, you look like a terrible banker, but you also apparently have a secret lover, so I’m saying the odds are on our sides.” Kingston grins. “I want the money.”
“You’re betting on the least amount of time.”
“I know you, Ry.”
The rest join in and they give me hell. But my outrage, while real, is only half there. Along with my attention. My mind keeps going back to the mouthy redhead.
“It’s going to be boring,” says the evil Magnus.
“But it’s four weeks,” I point out. “I can stand being bored that long.”
“No,” says King, “you can’t. You can barely stand being bored for four minutes. The money is all mine. Double or nothing, guys.”
He’s right. I hate being bored. Who doesn’t hate that? I like stimulation, interesting things and this should be heading right into the most boring four weeks of my life, but… I don’t know. There’s something about Elliot that says I won’t be bored in the slightest.
And it’s got nothing to do with the fact she doesn’t like me. Okay, she’ll warm to me, but she’s not about to eat out of my hand, even if I turned on the Ryder charm. That interests me. Almost as much as the fact she’s going to make sure I save the company and get my Sinclair jewel.
Eye on the prize.
When my phone buzzes with a message from an old college buddy who wants to meet for a drink and discuss a real estate opportunity, I text back where.
Eye on the prize. I can do this.
I agree to meet up in the Meat Packing district, the area full of high-end designer stores and places to be seen. The drinks and conversation are about what I expect when I meet Jaden. I’m not interested in the deal, and it’s nice enough to meet up with someone I don’t have to impress, but I stay on my best behavior. I even turn down a proposition and make Jaden’s night by turning one into his.
I’m feeling good when I leave.
Right up to the moment I’m grabbed by someone. I get an impression of platinum blonde hair and a familiar, strong perfume.
“Lacey—”
That’s all I manage before she kisses me and the world lights up in a series of flashes.
Oh fuck.
This is bad.