Kyle (Members From Money Season 2, #157)

Chapter 1

The apartment was what could be referred to as 'shabby chic.

' She should know. It was one of theirs, or rather one of hers.

She had picked out the designs personally.

The antique stuffed homely yellow and red sofa settled comfortably in one corner of the room with the rosy, pink and white stucco walls.

Board floors, of the highest quality, shone beneath the chandeliers, also an antique and more like sconces that looked like candles glowing from tapered gold sticks.

There was a functional fireplace, large, taking up an entire section of the wall.

It was what could be called a townhouse and was a standalone one.

The man lounging next to the hearth had one hand draped casually over the translucent blue green tiles and looked anything but relaxed.

Matthew Ryder looked haunted and sad and had a scruff that looked as if it had been there for several days.

Despite that, it did not take away from the finely honed beauty of his face. It only made him more appealing.

His sister doubted very much if that was something he wanted to hear.

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her chic power red tailored jacket, she pinned a smile on her lips as she put aside her leather Romano's briefcase and walked over to embrace him.

He was two years older, and they were close, the reason she had ended her appointment when she received the call.

Without hesitation. Matthew called and she dropped everything and came running.

She loved him, ached for him and would do anything for him.

He returned the embrace one-handed. He smelled of his favorite cologne, 'Simply Man,' a Romano's original and suited him perfectly.

"Thanks for coming." His smile was stilted and strained.

Easing back, she examined his handsome face and lifted a hand to smooth the crease of his brow.

"Was there any doubt I would?" She held on for a minute before letting go. They were not very demonstrative when it came to physical touch, but that was the way it was between them.

"I hope I didn't pull you from anything important."

Taking a seat, she kicked off her Italian leather pumps and watched him. "Oh, just a major deal that I have been angling after for months." Her smile came and had dimples peeping.

He looked horrified as he stared at her. "Just kidding. Got you there."

He cast her a dirty look. "You're such a bitch."

"Now, is that any way to speak to your favorite sister?"

"My only sister." He grumbled.

Walking over, he sat across from her, studying the round face with the flawless caramel complexion. The complicated twist and coils of her locks were tamed and wrapped into a thick coil on top of her head. "And a pain in the ass. She called me."

He leaned back and shoved his long legs out. His usual attire of denims and plaid shirt were wrinkled as if they had been slept in. Detective Michael Ryder was a decorated cop and all about the job. He had often told his sister that he had nothing else, which made him excellent at his job.

"I know." She felt her heart aching. She had received the call as well. A family meeting.

Her mouth twisted bitterly at the term. They were barely a family.

Their parents had been divorced twice, and that was before creating a complete havoc in their children's lives.

It was no wonder they were such screw ups.

Michael was gay and settled in the closet with no plans of coming out, and she, well, she had had three relationships gone belly up.

Her brother's golden-brown eyes met hers in empathy. "I'm not going."

"You have to."

His thick brows lifted. "Or what? I end up risking my inheritance?" He threw one hand to encompass the living room. "Or this place? I can live with that. What he wants from me is not possible. I'm bloody gay. I like men, that's the bottom line."

"Nothing they did, not the endless rounds of therapy or holy water the priest poured on my forehead with the idea of exorcising 'demons,' did any damn good. I will never marry. I cannot be with a woman. My dick never cooperated when I tried to be with a female, and it never will."

His mouth twisted harshly, marring the beauty of his face. "Do you think I want to be this way? No. I've tried to change and nothing works. So." He shrugged philosophically and made Ingrid's eyes burn with furious tears. "I'm not going."

"You don't know what the meeting is all about." She pointed out in what she thought was a reasonable voice. "Grandfather is, can be a hard ass, but he's mostly fair."

A snort was his response. What she had said wasn't exactly true. William Ivan Ryder was a hard ass, and as the patriarch of the family and one who held the purse strings, he spoke the loudest. Her brother had 'two strikes' against him. He was not in the family business, and he was not 'normal.'

Michael had committed the cardinal sin. He had deviated in more ways than one. At the age of thirty, he was supposed to be married with a couple of kids on the way and working at the company, making his contribution. Instead, he had gone his own way.

"You should have been the son." He pointed out bitterly, roaming his eyes over her expensive suit. She was a size twenty but wore it so well, it suited her perfectly. Their mother had picked on her constantly about 'her excess weight' and the fact that she was tall, five foot seven and a half.

In his mind, Matthew thought of her as the bravest and strongest female he had ever met. She was a power source, and with her contribution, she was making a difference at McCreary/Ryder Enterprise.

"I'm not." She stated flatly and decided that it was time to nip the self-pity in the bud. "You're who you are, and I love you. Come to the damn meeting and stand up to him. He'll respect you all the more for it."

A smile played around his lips. She was also one not to pull her punches. "You really have no idea what this is about?"

"None." She assured him but could not help the feeling that it was something major.

"It must have something to do with the company."

"Which doesn't make sense. I'm not part of the company." He pointed out reasonably. "I'm a cop and will remain one till the day I die."

"You're still a Ryder."

"Much to Gramps' distress." He shook his head when she gave him a look. "I'll be there. And I promise to keep my mouth shut, no matter what."

She nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. The weight of family expectations pressed down on both of them, an invisible force that shaped so many of their choices. For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy with memories and unspoken words.

Ingrid glanced around the room, searching for something comforting, a reminder that, despite everything, they still had each other. "We'll get through it," she said quietly, her voice steadier than she felt. "Whatever he throws at us, we'll handle it together."

*****

Ingrid almost turned back twice on her way to the next stop.

Jeremiah Ryder lived a few blocks away in another of their apartment buildings that was complete with all the amenities one could hope for in such a place.

'Ryder's Plush Living' had been created and designed by the best architects money could afford and was home to movie stars, up and coming executives, lawyers, doctors and politicians.

It was located in the uptown area and surrounded by the theater and the latest Colby's gallery.

Trendy restaurants, including a brand-new Italian and French eateries and Kelly Takahashi's fine dining, were within easy reach, and that had been deliberate.

The buildings swept upwards gracefully, a perfect backdrop for the often-icy blue sky.

Nodding to security, she drove inside the pebbled driveway, taking time to admire the lush green palm trees waving in the November breeze.

Water sprinkled and poured clear as crystal into an urn, adding to the atmosphere.

The housing development was aristocratic, like a graceful old duchess aging well, which she supposed was appropriate, since it had once been a mansion owned by an actual duchess.

A valet rushed forward to take her key fob as she exited the vehicle. Smiling at the familiar face, she took the time to have a conversation.

"Ms. Ingrid." The weathered black face creased in a pleased smile, dark brown eyes gleaming. "It's wonderful to see you."

"Jennings. Nice to see you too. How's Mary and the kids?"

The man's smile widened, and he could not help but think that here was a classy woman, not like her mother, who had never taken the time to learn their names.

Ingrid Ryder was one of a kind, not uppity like most people with her kind of money and influence.

No matter how busy she was, she always found the time to chat, and it was not just polite conversations. She genuinely meant every word.

"She's off today with the flu."

A concerned look touched her face. "I hope she's drinking lots of fluid. Let her know I'm praying for her speedy recovery."

He beamed at her. "I certainly will, Ms. Ingrid. Thank you."

With a nod, she approached the glass doors that opened to the gleaming foyer.

She paused for a moment, taking in the subtle perfume of fresh-cut flowers that filled the lobby.

The gentle hum of conversation and the soft shuffle of footsteps on marble created a welcoming backdrop, reminding Ingrid of how much the building had become a refuge for its residents as well as herself.

Each detail, from the art on the walls to the polished brass fixtures, spoke of both luxury and lived-in comfort, a blend she had always admired.

It was a matter of pride for her because she had been involved with the place from the inception, and it was at full capacity.