Chapter Fifteen
Ryder
T he first big meeting with the board went well and things are good. I’ve been busy, but not too busy to lose track of my goals. Everything I want is there, just in reach. All I need is to get through the next three weeks.
Get through them and a little time after, because I’m not stupid, and I’ll be golden. I know my mother, and my father, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have built in some weird clause as each step for me and my brothers keeps getting more intricate with more at stake; and my mother because she’s a sneaky woman and is not only carrying out dear old father’s ghostly orders but has her own agenda.
The stakes keep climbing and I don’t know why. But what I want keeps me grounded, focused.
I just need to behave for the next handful of weeks.
It’s why I have Elliot.
After the meeting I head home and work from there because I have fewer distractions there.
I don’t even realize I’m running late to Mag’s place for drinks—the one thing he and Zoey haven’t yet worked out is where they’re living, so they split time between his place and hers above her store, which makes me laugh, thinking of my ruthless brother in such small digs.
Then again, there’s nothing to laugh about, not really. They’re disgustingly happy, just like Scarlett and Hud.
My phone rings and something lights up in me when I see Elliot’s name. “You’re late,” I say, closing down my computer and pushing back my chair.
She laughs softly, that low sexy voice with the smoky depths washes through me. Without her there I can immerse in it. The woman should make recordings. “Nice greeting, Sinclair.”
“I try.”
But the laughter stops.
“Ryder, I’m sorry, I can’t make it. I’ve some work and—”
“With what I’m paying, how the hell do you fit anyone else in?”
“For you, idiot,” she says, “but I have an unexpected family thing I can’t get out of.”
The light sinks. “Not a problem.”
We ring off and I don’t know why it leaves me feeling a little empty. Probably because my cager is also a crutch. I can trust Elliot to keep me on the straight and narrow. Not that I’ve had time for anything else. And tonight’s it’s drinks with my brothers. They want to know how the meeting went.
So I head on out.
I’m a grown man. I can do this myself.
I have drinks with my brothers and their significant others, and we discuss the meeting. There’s nothing much, no giant signs about what’s going on, but the word on the street, or boardroom as it were, is they’re happy.
The board and my brothers? They’re just intrigued and King wants the money. He’s got plans but he won’t really discuss them as he has to head out early to take care of shit in his business life, and me? I’m fucking tired. So I make my goodbyes.
“You all right?” Magnus asks as he walks me to his door. “It’s not the bet is it?”
I give him a filthy look. “You guys are still doing that?”
“Of course. And you know the stakes are going to rise since your Elliot didn’t show. You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”
“No, I did not.”
“That unattractive?”
My hand curls into a fist and my brother’s gaze drops to it and he grins.
“Oh, God,” I say. “You have a side bet on that, don’t you?”
He shrugs. “Come on. It’s fucking you. And while she doesn’t come across all flash and tits and sex, she’s passable.”
“Elliot has something you don’t understand. Class. I mean, sure, you’re marrying class, but you’re an asshole and you don’t get it. I don’t know what Zoey sees in you.”
“My brilliance.”
“You lied to her.”
“Water under the bridge.” He waves a hand. “And we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you. Namely, have you nailed her yet?”
“Don’t talk about Elliot that way, and I answered.”
“You talk about women like that all the time.”
I just shake my head and leave.
Seriously, me? Talk about women that way? I’m pretty sure I have more imagination than that.
I get in the car service I called. The night is mine, I realize. Mine to do with how I see fit and as I head home, I’m aware there are too many bars and clubs and places to be. And trouble to get into.
I’m tired but now I’m feeling restless. A drink somewhere dark and anonymous appeals and I can do it. Right? I’m sure I can.
But the closer we head to TriBeCa the more people are out and about and the more I begin to not trust myself.
It’s been a little bit since I’ve had sex. And more than a week is a hell of a long time. It’s like dying of thirst.
I’ve got too much riding on all this for me to slip up. I lean forward. “A change of plans,” I say to the driver. “Prince Street.”
Elliot buzzes me in. She looks soft and sweet, her hair pinned back but in a looser style, with red locks escaping. She’s in a pretty enough dress and has one low heel in a hand. “Don’t tell me you were tempted.”
As a greeting goes, it’s not the best, but it could be worse. I close the door and lean against it and fold my arms. I’m in jeans and a cashmere sweater, as it’s warmer tonight.
“Okay, I won’t.”
Thing is we’ve spent other nights together since those first two. The rest at my place where she had her own room. For some reason, I prefer this.
Elliot takes off her other shoe and sets them down. “Well, at least you came to the temptation-free temple.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
She just shakes her head and sits on the sofa, rubbing her feet. “You’re incorrigible.”
“How about I get us a drink and do that for you and you can tell me all about your day.” I don’t give her a chance to argue. Instead, I go to the kitchen—I know my way about the small space by now—and pour some whiskeys. Then I hand one to her, take a sip of mine, then set it on the coffee table and sit.
I ease her feet into my lap and start to massage them. She makes a surprisingly erotic sound in her throat as I do so.
Elliot has surprisingly pretty feet. They’re long, elegant, delicate, and there’s something intimate about what I’m doing. I look up and she’s got her lip caught between her teeth, eyes closed as she leans back, one hand clasped about her glass, the other gripping the sofa.
Fuck. My cock stirs and I make sure her feet are nowhere in that vicinity.
I shouldn’t be turned on, but who wouldn’t be at that sight? It’s orgasmic, the pleasure of my touch an electric beacon in her and that turns me on. The fact I’m doing that to her, just by touching her feet is hot.
And maybe part of it is her seeming lack of interest in me. I say seeming because, damn it, she kissed me the other night.
Then she ran away.
Still, it’s a little disconcerting to have her rebuff me every time I try and compliment her. It doesn’t help I keep getting things wrong when I do that.
I shove it all away. I like women. End of story.
“Well?”
She opens an eye. “Well what?”
“Your day? Your evening?”
“Work. For you. And don’t worry, no splashy articles or interviews or declarations of love or the new your kinda deal. It’s just all the boring mechanics of making sure what is out there or will be is tweaked our way. And you’ve been behaving.”
“I mostly do,” I say, ignoring all the times I don’t. “Also I’ve been busy.”
“And I haven’t let you spend the night alone.” She opens her other eye and takes a sip of her drink, making no move to pull her feet free.
“I’m not a total lost cause.”
“The jury is still out.”
“It’s a bogus jury.”
She laughs. “The evening wasn’t exciting. Just being the dutiful daughter for my great aunt’s eighty-sixth birthday. I forgot.” Elliot glances down into her glass, the light from the lamps making her hair gleam. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Me.”
“Don’t make yourself more important than you are.”
I rest my hand on top of her feet and pick up my glass. “Perry, that was cold.”
“That’s me. I’m like ice.”
“I’m thinking more like there’s a river of lava in there, not ice.”
She shifts and pulls her feet off me, but rests them against my thigh. I like the heat and the pressure. “What are you going to do if we can’t pull this off?”
“By that, you mean me.”
I take a swallow of the drink.
She sighs. “Ryder, I only meant—”
“I know what you meant.” I say this quietly. “If I fuck up by fucking someone inappropriate. By doing something they don’t like. By being me.”
“Ryder—”
“I like me,” I say. “I’ve told you this shit shouldn’t matter.”
“But it does, because you deemed it so.”
I take another swallow of the amber liquid. “Because it’s a connection to my past, my heritage, like I told you. And the company means something. I fucking hate the fact the stakes keep growing since this all started, and I don’t want to lose it.”
I stop and meet her gaze.
“Thing is, Elliot, it means more to me than the others. It’s part of me, you know? The others, they see it as our heritage, too. And no one wants it to go public, and I can’t be the catalyst for that.”
“You don’t want to be the fuck up.”
“I know what people think of me. Eternal playboy, the guy who likes fun and fucking women more than anything else, and maybe they’re right. Life is short. It’s there to enjoy when you can. But I’m more than that. I made my own fortune. This…the jewels…they were always talked about as a symbol of the Sinclair name. And to me, as a kid, they seemed impossible. I believed in them, always, and now they’ve turned up, I want mine.”
She nods and sips her drink. “The legendary value? The monetary value? Are they important? You can’t wear them.”
“I think I could pull it off.” I slide my hand over the silk of her calf, her skin smooth and warm beneath my palm. “There’s a romance to them, a history I want to know. I want to see them all together. I know they were made as a gift for my great grandmother. And…it’s like how you love all these art deco pieces. They’re beautiful. The two pieces I’ve seen are that, beautiful. I want to see them all.”
“You haven’t seen them?”
“No. There aren’t pictures, they’re rumors. Stories. Lore. And that’s worth more. That, and not being the fuck up who ruins the family company.”
She doesn’t respond for a long time, but finally she says, “There’s a lot more to you, Ryder. And we can do this.” Elliot stops, and her gaze catches mine and it burns, making something twist deep inside me. “You can.”
“I got you.” I grin at her and she turns red and returns her gaze to her drink.
“Ryder.”
“Hey.” I wait until that pretty and vulnerable and fierce gaze returns to me. “It’s true. I don’t know if I can do this without you. It’s nice, you know? Having someone in my corner.”
“Even if you’re paying them.” She lifts her drink and takes a sip.
“Even that. And you’re right, I can do this.” I’m not sure if I’m telling a lie with that, because pretty is pretty and need is need and I’m not used to denying myself. All it would take is a slip… “But you help me. More than just hiring you. I don’t want to lose the company, my connection to the past, to my family’s history.”
“You can do anything you want, Ryder, even get your urges under control. If urges is the right word,” she says. “I’m here to guide and rebuild your image in a subtle way that backs up what you do. After you get what you want, you have to decide what you’re going to do.”
“Yeah, well, conservative and staid and picket fences aren’t me and they’re never gonna be me. I like freedom. I like thrills. I also like hard work. And this whole thing is stupid, but I’ll do it.” I sigh and rest my hand against her feet. The connection soothes and riles all at the same time, all in a good way. “Short answer is I’ll find a way.”
“It’s only a few weeks, then you can get back to your hot women.”
“I have one here.”
She raises a brow. “That’s a little rude, sneaking one in.”
“There you go again.” I give her a contemplative look. “Deflecting the soft flirt, the attention.”
“You don’t mean it and I don’t like it.”
“Which part? Flirting or attention? I know you hide, and I told you why I think you do it, but what happened?”
“There are a lot of us who let the others shine. They like that light, like you. I don’t. And people…they don’t see me because they expect the flash and dazzle. I’m not that. I’m good behind the scenes and I’m good at guiding and fixing and that’s why I’m excellent at what I do.”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me, Sinclair?”
My skin starts to heat. I don’t know how she does it, how she gets me in knots when usually I’m smooth as silk. “I know you’re the best at what you do, otherwise I wouldn’t have hired you. I just mean it’s bullshit about not being seen. I see you.”
Elliot sighs. “Only because I’m working with you. You’d never give someone like me the time of day, otherwise. And I’m not complaining. Things are as they are, that’s all.”
“Of course I would,” I say. “I don’t discriminate, I told you that.”
“Being a man whore isn’t the same as seeing someone for their worth, Ryder.”
Her words strike some place deep inside me. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about sex for sex’s sake there, Perry.” I drag in a breath because that thing inside hurts. Not for me. For her. I somehow hurt her and I don’t know how or why.
“Really?”
“You know, I’ve never had a female friend. They usually want something from me, which is fine, I usually want something from them. But you…you don’t want anything from me, and I enjoy spending time with you. I’ve never met anyone like you before, Elliot. Not once in my life and I think I’d have seen you. And maybe there’s more to it.”
“Ryder.”
I ignore the warning because I want to see if the sweet, evocative taste of her is everywhere. I want to see where this goes. I want her.
I set my drink down and take hers, moving up over her and looking down. Her eyes are big and dilated and that need and want that flashes in them transforms her somehow.
“Sex,” I say, “can be all sorts of things.”
I lean down to kiss her, but her hand comes up on my chest and my heart’s beating hard and fast and uneven.
“It’s not a good idea, Ryder.”
“Why? I think there’s chemistry here, begging to be explored.”
But Elliot pushes me and I fall back. “No, it’s because you need a woman, Ryder, but I’m not willing to just be a notch or to fill in until something better comes along.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Who said life is? You have a hand. I have a bathroom. Make yourself at home.”
I stare at her and shake my head. “You want me to jerk off?”
“If that helps,” she says evenly as she gets to her feet. “I—you know where all the bedding is. Goodnight.”
And just like that, Elliot turns and walks away.