Chapter 4
June
Maybe this was all a terrible idea.
This thought has been popping up inside my head ever since he took me with him. I wanted this; I planned for this, but now that I’m here, I’m crippled with fear and doubt. And when I get uncomfortable like this, I make dumb jokes. Silliness has always been my way of coping with difficult situations, but that trait could get me into serious trouble with him. It’s just so hard to shake off my defense mechanism.
I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of his office, hands folded in my lap and my heart pounding, while I watch him work at his desk. He hasn’t looked in my direction once since he sat down, keeping his eyes glued to the documents before him.
The interior of his office is upscale but minimalistic. The furniture is sleek, dominated by the large dark wood desk that starkly contrasts with the light floor. Behind Ryker, floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city skyline, twinkling like distant stars, while my boredom wraps its weary arms around my shoulders.
I expected him to search my things, so I didn’t even try to bring my phone with me. It wasn’t easy to leave it behind and be cut off from the world, even if it might just be for a couple of days. Though my roommate Tracey is probably the only person in the world who is aware of my absence, since I’m not working at the moment. For the past year, I have been living off of my father’s money and the payout of his life insurance, which he set up when I was still a baby. He prepared for his death long before it happened, and he made sure I’d be okay. I’ve been taking in a roommate to cut down my cost of living, but Tracey and I never became close. I told her I was going on a quick trip and might be hard to reach, but I doubt she even cares.
When I first plotted my revenge, I approached the Reid brothers intending to hire them to kill Ryker, even though a part of me knew I could never be a murderer, even if I was just the person to commission the kill order. It didn’t feel like the right way to spend what’s left of my inheritance. As I talked to them, we came up with a better plan—something that wouldn’t have to involve murder.
And now I’m here, watching him as he occasionally twirls a silver pen through his fingers, seemingly deep in thoughts. His desk is remarkably uncluttered, with only his laptop, a few stacked files, and something that looks like a black jewel—probably a paperweight.
I can’t stop myself from studying him, noting the sharp line of his jaw and the casual fall of his dark hair. He combed through it with his fingers several times since we got here, so it’s a lot more ruffled than it was a couple of hours ago—and I hate how good that looks on him. He’s disturbingly interesting.
Still, I hate him with every fiber of my being. It doesn’t matter how good his fucking hair looks, or how well defined his upper arms appear to be, stretching the material of his shirt as he supports himself on his elbows. It doesn’t matter that his smell made me dizzy with confusion when he bent over to fasten my seatbelt—such a ridiculous move. It felt protective, but I know it wasn’t. He just wanted to take control of the situation. Men like him always do.
I let out an audible sigh, and he arches an eyebrow as he looks at me from under his brows.
“Yes?” He asks.
I retort with an innocent look.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just bored, I guess.”
“You’ll get through it,” he murmurs, lowering his gaze on the papers again.
“It would be much easier to stay quiet if I had my e-reader, you know,” I say.
“Nice try,” he says, without looking up. “I won’t be long.”
“How long?” I dare to ask.
“You’ll see,” he returns.
“Very fun—”
“The more you talk, the longer this is going to take,” he says, now looking up to meet me with a stern expression. “Do you really want to test me this early on, Grace?”
I hurry to shake my head. “No, sir.”
He freezes and looks at me with a blank expression, as if I’d just struck him.
Does he enjoy being called sir by me? If he does, maybe I should keep doing it. Making him like me might make this a lot easier. If he trusts me, he’ll be careless. And if he’s careless, there will be more opportunities for me to…
“About half an hour,” he cuts into my thoughts. “I should be done in about half an hour.”
“Okay,” I say in a low voice. “Thank you, sir.”
“Stop calling me that,” he says, but his voice lack conviction.
Oh, but I won’t. I will call you sir until you’re dumb enough to think I actually respect you, you handsome piece of shit.
He goes back to focus on his oh-so-important work. Work that destroys lives, work that helps criminals like the Reid brothers—work that kills people.
Work that killed my father.
But soon, he will pay for it. He will pay for everything he has done to my family.