Chapter Twenty-One
Ryder
I don’t know when I pass out. But when I wake, it’s quiet and the bed is empty.
That’s fine. Great. It’s how I like it. No complications. No one needs to know and my asshole family can keep having their side bets and no one needs to know about this…this…this glitch.
No one at all.
Of course there’s me. And the lovely Elliot. We know. And we’ll have to deal with it.
Knowing her, she’s going to pretend it didn’t happen.
I’m home free.
I lie back for about two seconds before I’m up and yanking on my clothes, shoving my feet in sneakers and out the door.
It’s quiet, cold at almost five a.m. in TriBeCa and I march the streets, cutting off cars as I cross the roads until I’m at her building.
I ring the damn buzzer, pressing down again and again until she answers.
“Let me in, Perry, or I’m going to cause such a scene you won’t be able to appear on the streets of this damn fucking city for a week.”
She buzzes me in.
When I reach her apartment, I storm past her into her space and slam the door. Then I glare. “What the actual fuck?”
“I went home, Ryder. Why are you here?” She crosses her arms and glares back. “And I should have let you cause that scene you so charmingly threatened. You’d lose your little dream.”
“So?” Right then I don’t care. “It would be worth it to piss you off.”
“I don’t see why you’re so angry. I just took the awkwardness out of it. Of course, until you turned up here, bringing it with you. Are you the only one allowed to bow out, that it?”
I point a finger at her. Because I am angry. I’m furious. It bubbles up, lava hot and I don’t know if she’s right or wrong here, only that I didn’t want her to leave.
More. I wanted more. Want more.
I point a finger at her and say, “You wouldn’t let me do that.”
“That’s your response, is it? I wouldn’t let you ruin the effort I’ve put into trying to make you a decent human?”
“Decent?”
Okay, so I hadn’t meant to say that to her, but what am I meant to say? I didn’t want her to go? I stare at my finger, at her, and then I breathe out and push my hair back from her face. “What are you wearing?”
“Things to sleep in, Ryder.” She waves a hand over the T-shirt and the boy shorts that show her long, shapely legs off.
“You usually wear ugly pajamas.”
“My apartment’s warm tonight and—” She stops and comes up to me and pokes me in the chest hard. “You’re a total ass, Ryder. You don’t know how to talk to women beyond seduction and sex.”
“That’s a lie.” The words come out a little uncertain.
“You know it’s not. Think about it. We had a moment and that was fine and now you’re back to judging what I’m wearing and being…actually, I don’t know what you’re being. It’s not abandoned. Because you don’t get abandoned. You usually do that. I just went home. I figured you’d be happy about that and we could move on.”
Something dark and cold moves through me. “Is that what it was? A moment?”
“Yes. Wasn’t it?”
I don’t know what to say. We have two areas. The uncharted waters that state There Be Dragons for me, waters I never wade into. Or we have the safe and familiar, the what it is, just move on and pretend it didn’t happen. She seems great at that. I should be even better. I’m not sure I am.
Because Elliot’s different from everyone and anyone I’ve met.
“It was a moment,” she says, voice flat. “And it was done, so I left.”
“You can’t leave.”
“I did.”
“I mean, you can’t walk out on me. I need you there. By my side. I’m paying you.”
Everything in her face shuts down. She’s a wall of spiked brick. And I immediately know it was the wrong thing to say. I want to pull her into my arms and seduce her. I want to taste those lips, have all that warm, soft flesh pressed against me. I want to drop to my knees and explore her sweet, hot pussy with my mouth.
I want a lot of things that her stony, barbed expression says I’m not getting.
“Elliot—”
“Go home, Ryder. I’m taking the problematic element out of this thing. We had sex. That’s it. We don’t talk about it. We pretend it didn’t happen. You get the best of all the worlds. Sex with no complications, and that should hopefully be enough to tide you over, because it’s not happening again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“A repeat performance? No.”
“Elliot, you’re twisting this, I want—”
“I know what you want. You got it. We get through this by forgetting tonight. We get through this by you doing what I say. Now, there’s an opening of an arts foundation that does a lot of charity work coming up. You’re going, it’s the kind of thing up the alley of the Sinclair board. Keep it in your pants, and try not to fuck someone on your way home.” She marches past me, opening her door.
We look at each other and I’m not done. Her body, her face, every charged ion in the air says she is.
“Goodbye, Ryder.”
I start to say something but think better of it, and head back out into the very early morning without a backward glance.
After all, she’s gone and saved me the trouble of getting out of whatever this is at a later date.
And I tell myself that’s a good thing. A very good thing, indeed.
“I’m not in a fucking mood,” I say, glaring at Kingston, who’s currently haunting my Park Avenue office.
He stares out the window at the bright afternoon, then turns back to me, sliding his hands in his trouser pockets. “You never could lie for shit, Ry,” he says. “I’ve a mind to up the stakes and take it all. You slept with her.”
“When has anyone in this family become so obsessed with my sex life?”
He shrugs and grins and comes over to the seat opposite my large wood and steel desk, a sleek thing that’s a masterpiece in modern design. “Since you stopped really having one.”
“So has the side bet become the top bet?”
“Not really, but I could make it that. You know I don’t care about tricking the others out of their money.”
My phone buzzes but I ignore it. I know who it is. And that I haven’t seen her in a few days annoys the hell out of me. It annoys the hell out of me even more that I’m annoyed.
“You’re fucking loaded, like the rest of us, you dick. Why do you want money that means nothing?”
“Money always means something,” he says, reasonably. “Small or large amounts. It adds up.” Then King pins me with a hard look. “When’s the next board meeting?”
“I’d prefer it if you were all there.”
“Our father had a sense of humor.” He puts his feet on my desk and I send him an irritated look, one he ignores. “Who knew?”
“I’m not sure it’s a sign of a sense of humor to fuck with your kids after you’re gone. And you three are on the board, so…”
“Stipulations. We’re not invited. They want to see you handle yourself without our guidance. Pity the old man never cottoned on to the fact we have no say over what the fuck you do or how you do it.”
Yeah. Our heritage in my hands. “So you care?”
“The company is worth a fortune, and also a fortune beyond money on paper. It if goes public, then who the hell knows who’ll get their grubby hands on a piece. Plus, it makes us look weak and that’s across everything.”
I nod slowly and slump back in my seat. “Just because I like sex, women, and a good time, I have to become a conservative asshat to show I can do what I already do.”
“As I said, sense of fucking humor.”
“Jesus.” I get up and start to pace, and my phone buzzes on my desk again. “No one has faith in me.”
“We do and you know it. It’s not about that. It’s about a game. And I really wouldn’t give a flying fuck if we weren’t dragged into this with the family business being dangled as some kind of bait. Shit, I’d let the jewels go—my piece—if I didn’t think they’re worth a fortune. They’re already the stuff of legend and lore, imagine if we had them all together on display, and sold them to the highest bidder.”
I wince. “You have no soul, and no one else will do that.”
“So, I’ll sell mine.” My phone buzzes again. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
“Nope.”
“I knew you fucked your make over artist.”
Heat rises along the back of my neck. “Elliot isn’t a make over artist. And it’s none of your business.”
“Is that all?” I add, suddenly done with the conversation. “I’ve got an event to go to.”
“That thing tonight? I’ll see you there.” He gets up and heads to the door. “And your Elliot.”
“Not my anything!”
He’s lucky I like my shoes enough I don’t launch them at his smug head as he disappears.
Elliot’s waiting for me when I get home. She follows me in without a word and I dump my coat on the sofa and deposit myself next to it. “I can do this myself, you know.”
“No,” she says, “you can’t. That’s why you hired me.”
Shit. I know she’s right and that’s not what my problem is. My problem is her.
She’s acting like nothing happened between us and for some reason I can’t do that thing I do, which is just go on like it didn’t happen. Or go on like it happened and nothing changed.
It happened.
Everything changed.
I’m not sure how, because I’ve had hot sex before. I’ve had times where I’ve lost track of the time I’ve spent with a woman. But for some reason, Elliot is different. I want her to acknowledge the buzz in the air, the awareness that flares bright and hot between us. I want her to say her world changed, too.
I want to do it again.
“Elliot, listen.”
Her flick of a gaze is a warning. “I’m not sure I can make it tonight, so I figured we’d go—”
“Why? Because of the other night?”
A blush blooms on her face. “No. I just don’t know if I can.”
“It happened. Call it a moment, pretend it didn’t happen, but it did.” I get to my feet. “And this thing isn’t part time. I’m paying you a lot of money to be there.”
“Ryder, I’m not your slave.”
“I know that.” How the fuck do I keep getting things wrong when it comes to her? Anyone else and they’d be eating out of my hand. I open my mouth with her and all the wrong things come out when all I want to do is make things better.
Maybe I’ve been body snatched.
“What I’m trying to say is I need you.” I approach her, but I don’t touch. I get the feeling she won’t welcome that right now. “I need you, and I want you, Elliot. I want you there with me.”
“Ryder…”
“I want you with me because outside all of this, outside of the job I hired you for, I think you’re good for me, and I like you. And you’re also way prettier than you think.”
Those last words are inspired because yes, I mean them, but she seems to believe she’s plain and no one sees her. But I do, and I want her to know that. I want—
“Gee,” she says in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks, Ryder. Now that you, God of Beauty, have spoken, I’ll go to the ball. Sing songs. Believe in myself.”
“You know what I meant.”
She sighs. “Yes, I think I do, and I also think you need to pack up your shovel and put it away before you get into all kinds of horrible trouble with that hole you’re digging.”
Elliot has a point. I’m not being inspired. I’m being an idiot. I’m mangling an already mangled situation.
“Okay,” I say, “so you might not be coming tonight.” I nod. “Let’s focus on the plan…”
The event is as boring and staid as I thought. My brothers are there, and Kingston studies me, but doesn’t say a word.
“Shut up, King.”
He only smiles. That expression tells me way too many things I don’t want to hear. Like the mighty are falling, and where’s Elliot.
She’s not here. And I move past my brothers to the bar, making small talk along the way. My mother is also there, but I ignore her, too. I’m not in the mood for anything other than meaningless small talk.
“Hello,” says a beautiful woman with short black hair. She trails a hand over my suit, tucking something into my pocket. “Call me.”
I’m on my best behavior, I tell myself, watching as she sashays away with that sweet extra swing to her hips.
Sweet, but totally manufactured.
I still appreciate it. Even if it isn’t the compact yet low-key sexy way Elliot moves. I get a drink. I sip the champagne, figuring that if I just keep to myself I can be on my best behavior and not get into trouble.
To help me out, I pull out my phone and scroll through work emails, which is the perfect crutch and excuse on multiple levels.
“Ryder!” Leah something or other that I slept with a few years go bumps into me and she’s all smiles and secret looks. “Long time.”
There’s a big diamond ring glittering on her finger and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Off limits. “How are you?”
“You know.” She waggles her hand at me and then smooths a hand over my lapel. “He’s very nice, very rich, and I probably won’t introduce you to him.”
“I’m happy for you. He’s a lucky guy.”
She makes a small sound as she sips her champagne. “You know, it’s a pity I love him or else I’d be tempted.”
“I’m not offering.”
Leah looks at me and curls a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I’d be asking, but…that’s interesting. Oh, hang on…”
She opens her small crystal encrusted clutch and pulls out a card and hands it to me. “My number. Not for that, but my cousin is looking for something wonderful in the West Village and I thought of you. If you have anything, call my work number or email. It’s there.”
Then she pulls me down as she goes up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Talk to you soon, Ryder.”
She leaves and I stare after her, the card still in my hand.
I’m feeling good at how I handled that. Of how it went. I didn’t flirt, I made sure she knew there wasn’t a chance in case that’s what she was looking for and no one got hurt.
It’s then that I look up.
Elliot.
I shove the card into my pocket and smile, trying to tamp down the sudden panic at having numbers I didn’t ask for.
“I thought,” she says, sliding in next to me at the bar, the shimmery green dress that skims her sweet body and flares to just below her knees in a swirl of material as she does so is deceptively sexy, “I should come and make sure you were still alive.”
She gives me a glance over her shoulder, her red hair falling in loose waves around her as she asks for a drink.
How the fuck I ever thought her plain is beyond me. Elliot isn’t. She’s absolutely stunning.
She gets her drink and turns to face me. “You look good. The picture of what the board wants.”
As her gaze moves over me, she frowns. And panic starts to throb deep in me. She’s staring at my pocket.
I look down.
Fuck.
Right there is a cream corner of cardboard.
And without another word, she reaches over and takes it.
Not just the card from Leah, but the other one, too.
Fuck.