19. Chapter Nineteen
19
Ryker
There’s a club I know of from the few times I’ve vacationed here over the years, and it’s the best option for us if we want a shred of privacy while also being out in public. It’s an establishment that caters to celebrities each weekend, so the chances that we get caught together are less likely.
At least they’ve got great food.
Wren walks confidently through the entrance of the club, the dress I got her clinging to her like a second skin, and I place my hand on the small of her back protectively as we make our way through the crowded room. There’s sweaty bodies in every direction, some already drunker than they should be at ten at night, and others having the time of their lives without almost falling over in the process.
I lead Wren over to the bar, keeping her close to me as we order our drinks and wait for them to be made. A few people stare at me, but they don’t seem as though they’re going to make a scene, and that has me sighing with relief. “Are you a dancer?”
“I’m… something,” Wren says over the music, her chuckle being heard against the loud bass surrounding us.
“Does that mean dancing is out of the question?”
She shakes her head and smirks. “Can’t promise it will be the best, but I’ll try.”
A few of the guys near us turn their heads in Wren’s direction, eyeing her appreciatively from a distance, and I pull her closer to me so that they understand who she’s here with. She’s mine , I want to tell them – I’ve got a feeling that wouldn’t make Wren feel any better from earlier today.
When we get onto the crowded dance floor, the air swirling with the scent of sweat and alcohol that’s been spilled on the floor, I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her into my chest from behind. She pauses for a moment, her eyes darting around like she’s expecting someone to be spying on us, then finally relaxes into me and moves along to the beat of the music.
Her body is tense, like doing this is uncomfortable for her, and I’m more than prepared to take her back over to the bar if that’s what she wants. I follow her movements slowly, guiding her in the right direction, and that helps her get more into the rhythm. As the bass thumps around us, carrying loudly through the building, she shakes her ass against the front of my pants eagerly.
I harden immediately – how could I not when she’s damn near impossible to ignore? She could do nothing but stand in front of me, and all the blood would rush straight to my cock. It’s not just about her body, though.
Ever since I met her, standing on my front porch like she was meant to be there all along, there’s been this gentle way in which she’s approached me. It’s different from what others have done. I’m used to people being scared of me, or backing away like I’m going to lose my shit, but that’s not what Wren has done in all the days she’s been here.
I’m not the lead guitarist who has problems when she looks at me – I’m just Ryker James to her, the man before all the fame caught up to me.
As I look around, there’s heated gazes trailing over her body, but she’s got her eyes closed as she loses herself to the beat of the music. The fact that she’s oblivious to their stares only makes me want her that much more.
When the song comes to an end, I pull her back to the bar where we left our drinks and wave a hand in the air for more – I’m not about to trust that no one came over and put something in her drink.
The restrooms are close, so I tap my hand down on the bar to her attention and give her a small smile. “I’ve got to go to the restroom. Will you be okay out here by yourself?”
She shrugs as she takes a sip of her new drink. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, it’s only about ten feet away.”
I know she’s right, but the way these guys are looking at her – like they want to devour her for themselves – makes me nervous to leave her alone and vulnerable to them.
She says she’s okay, I should listen to that.
My mind goes back to what she said to her brother, how she let him know that she's capable of taking care of herself, and that’s the only thing that has me rising from my seat without her following me.
It takes a few minutes to take care of business, but my steps come to a grueling halt when I notice a tall guy standing next to Wren’s chair as she leans away from him. Even from a short distance away, I can tell she’s not into him, and it’s only confirmed when she shakes her head at him.
Instead of walking away like most men should do, the guy chuckles as if her answer is funny and angles himself closer to her while placing his hand on the back of her chair. The blood in me heats up, hating that he’s close to touching her when I should be the one doing it, and I clench my hands together at my side.
I’m doing my best to think about the first yoga session when Wren had me let my anger free, but it does nothing to curb the craving to push the stranger away from my girl.
He says something else to her, leaning in too close for my liking – and hers, since she pulls away from him with a frown – and I quickly head in their direction with my eyes narrowed on his frame.
There’s a small tattoo on his forearm, but aside from that, he looks like the typical rich playboy who doesn’t like when women reject him. That much is apparent when he scowls at her, which happens at just the right moment because I come to a stop at Wren’s back with my arms crossed in front of me.
“Is there an issue?”
The guy glances briefly at me, then rolls his eyes. “Not really the time, man.”
His response is not helping. “Oh, I think it’s the best time,” I grind out while pulling Wren into me.
He watches my movement and smirks. “I get it. You want to take her for a ride yourself. You can have your chance when I’m through with her.”
“Excuse me?”
At this point, there’s no taming the anger coursing inside of me, and I know before I’ve done a single thing that it’s going to get bad. Wren senses this, too, because she places her hand gently over my arm, shakes her head with a frown, and looks at the guy before bringing her attention back to me. “Let’s just get out of here, Ryker.”
I hear what she says to me, but it doesn’t translate because as soon as she says that, the guy reaches over and grabs hold of her arm.
Hell no.
Within seconds, I’m standing between the two of them and knocking his hand out of the way, and a finger pointed at his face while mine grows hot with anger. “Touch her again, and that will be the last thing you do.”
He blinks, clearly not taking the hint that I’m about to kick his ass, and chuckles. “Come on, man, there’s nothing wrong with sharing.”
When he takes a step closer to her, I block his path and push him back. “There is when she doesn’t want anything to do with you. She’s said no, so walk away and take it like a man.”
“Ryker,” Wren says, her voice soft and angelic, like she’s hoping it will tame the anger inside of me. “Please, let’s just go.” She tries to pull me, but my feet are rooted in place as I stare down the man in front of me.
“You should listen to her,” he says.
“And if I don’t?”
Much like they do in the cheesy movies, he brings his hands up in front of him and cracks his knuckles while smirking at me. “I’m not sure you want to find out.”
Would it still be considered me snapping if he’s the one who throws the first punch?
We stand there staring at each other, both eager for the other to make the first move, and I’m brought to sweet relief when he slams his fist into my jaw.
He has no clue what he just did, but he’s about to find out.
Before he blinks and gets his bearings, I’m already throwing the next punch and landing it on the left side of his face. His head snaps to the side dramatically, indicating how hard the hit was, and he rubs at the spot before stumbling into the bar. From the corner of my eye I can see someone rushing around, but I don’t bother paying them any mind as I throw another punch to his eye.
Maybe if it’s swollen shut, he won’t be able to look at Wren again and make moves on someone who’s clearly not available or wants his advances.
“Ryker,” Wren hisses beside me, her voice breaking through the red haze clouding my vision, and she tugs my arm harshly. “We’ve gotta go. Now .”
I can sense the panic in her voice, and just like that, all my attention goes to her before falling over her shoulder. There’s two large men, the security guards, who were standing at the entrance, and they’re pushing through the opening as they head straight for me.
Wren darts her gaze around, the fear in her eyes becoming more apparent, and I follow her attention to the phones being pointed at us.
Well, this isn’t good.
“Shit,” I mutter just as the security guards come to a stop in front of us. They glare at me, one reaching to grip my arm, but I pull away from his touch and throw my hands into the air. “I’m leaving.”
They cross their arms, eyebrows raised in disbelief, and I saunter out of the club with them following behind me and Wren closely.
This was supposed to be a good idea. Wren was meant to feel better about our situation, but there’s no denying that what everyone witnessed tonight will be all over social media by morning. All it takes is one person to share it. I can guarantee it’s already been posted.
What the hell am I going to do now?
It was much easier when I was able to act as though no one saw us together, but there’s no way Mack won’t see what happened tonight.
***
The house is silent when I lift from the bed the next morning, not a single sound echoing throughout, and I worry that Wren may have left without saying anything. I grab my phone in hopes that she may have texted me that she was going out for the morning, but instead, I find a dozen or so missed calls from Mack – along with voicemails following each.
How am I going to pull a lie off right now?
There’s no logical reason why I’d be standing in a club with Wren, not when she’s only supposed to be my therapist. Mack’s going to put two and two together quickly if he already hasn’t, and I’ve no clue what that means for Wren.
Did he already fire her?
I shake my head at the thought and frown.
No, he couldn’t possibly do that.
Knowing Mack, he would’ve called me to get the details before resorting to firing the woman who was supposed to be making my anger better.
Is that how he’s going to see it, though?
When it comes to Wren’s job, there are certain ethics she has to abide by, and one of them is forming an intimate relationship with her patient.
There’s a chance Mack didn’t need to confirm everything with me before kicking Wren out of my place.
She can’t be gone.
I find Mack’s name in my phone and immediately dial the number. It rings once before he growls, “Finally.”
“What the hell is going on, Mack?”
“Well, by now, that wellness coach should be far off the property, and in the next few hours, you’ll be on the private jet back to New York City.”
“You can’t force me to get on it,” I grind out, that anger I’ve been able to tame bubbling in my veins.
Mack chuckles. “Oh, that’s what you’d like to believe.”
“I’m going to see her again before I leave, Mack.”
“No, you’re not.” He clears his throat and says, “Because if you do, I’ll report her to the ethics board and show them everything I’ve got on the two of you.”
What?
“Everything you’ve got on us?”
“You thought I wouldn’t have you monitored while you were there?” He sighs heavily. “Every day, I’ve been getting updates, pictures sent to me by the security posted outside the property, and the images are very telling.”
What the hell?
“That’s a breach of my privacy, Mack. You had no right to do that.”
“You have a choice,” he says calmly, not bothering to respond to my statement. “You can either get on the jet, or you can risk ruining Wren’s career if you so much as look at her again – and, believe me, I’ll know if you do.”
This is insane.