by Rica Grayson
I could fall asleep this way.
“You think this isn’t real.” His fingers just barely graze the nape of my neck, and butterflies take flight in my stomach. Is he doing that on purpose? I can’t tell. How can he not even be touching me and make me feel this way?
I try to focus on his words. “It’s not.”
But he ignores me. “And that it won’t last…”
“It won’t.”
He runs his hand through my hair again, the tips of his fingers tracing a path down my back as he brushes down. Goosebumps spread over my skin.
“Don’t you know how those fake relationships in those books you had in your old shelf end, Blaire?”
What? This time I try to think past the mind-meltingly amazing way he’s brushing my hair and focus on what he’s saying.
I puzzle over his words in my head and blurt out, “How would you know what’s on my shelf?”
He stops brushing. His hands sweep underneath my hair, the back of his hands like a caress from the base of my neck to the middle of my back, and then he gathers it in one hand and tugs. I nearly moan out loud. Oh. My. God.
“I remember. And you didn’t answer the question,” he answers. I can feel the heat of him behind me.
“Question?” What question? Why is he still talking?
He chuckles, the sound skittering down my spine.
His hair-brushing technique is drugging. Addictive. I should never have let him do it. I turn around to tell him just that.
Instead, I find him wearing a speculative look, and to my alarm, he starts climbing up the bed.
Instinctively, I move, too, backing up until I’m a safe distance away. When it looks like he’ll follow, I hold a hand up. “S-stay there.”
“But I have something for you,” he replies smoothly.
Oh my God. “If you say you’ve got your magic stick, so help me, Ryan, I am going to kick you.”
He bursts out laughing, the rich sound filling the room. Still guarded, his reaction baffles me. “Filthy thoughts, Red?” He smirks, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing so depraved.” Ahh. This is embarrassing. I fight the urge to bury my face on the pillow. He pulls up something from the ground and rests it on the bed, and my eyes immediately fly to the large box wrapped in plain brown paper.
Oh no. It doesn’t look like another necklace, but… I eye it suspiciously, like it might possibly grow another head. Where did it even come from? Come to think of it, when he brought my bags in the room earlier, he carried an extra one, too.
A determined expression fixed on his face, he explains, “Before you say anything, this didn’t cost a lot.”
Not feeling like arguing, cautiously, I ask, “What is it?”
“Shoes that won’t kill you.” My heart stops.
“I—I have shoes,” I scramble for another reason why I can’t accept more gifts, thinking of another pair I brought with me.
“Then you have another one.”
Oddly touched, I decide, for the sake of my sanity, to just stop questioning it. “Thank you.” I crawl forward accepting his present.
After seeing me with my shoes, he decided to give me something more comfortable to wear. A warm sensation spreads in my chest. It was really thoughtful of him.
But… “When did you have time to get this?” My brows shoot up. Should I even be surprised?
I catch the mischievous glint of his eyes, a shoulder raising up in a half-shrug. “I have ways.”
It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s like this.
But still, part of me holds back.
I rub a hand against my forehead, wishing he would just stop making it so hard for me.
“Your headache better?” he asks, concern etched in his frown.
My headache’s gone, I realize. It melted away sometime within the last ten minutes. I only nod, stunned. “Much better now. Thanks,” I reply, marveling at what he’d just done. His hand now rests on the small of my back, rubbing up and down soothingly in small strokes. My eyes fall shut at the sensation. He smells like spice and pinewood, and entirely all too inviting.
It feels good. Natural. Effortless.
I’m in deep trouble. The tenderness of his touch is enough to make my heart swell in my chest. I sigh, deep, as if it could take away my fears with it.
Because I remember last night, and what those words he threw out cost me. Last night, he made me realize how different our worlds are. He’s a celebrity, loved by many, and admired for his music. His art. It’s easy to forget that and how quickly things could change between us. When this is all over, things would go back to the way they were. And when that happens, I would be lying if I said it wouldn’t hurt. Because the mere thought of it, even now, already steals my breath.
I thought I could be sensible, that I could detach myself from whatever act we put up in front of everyone. If anything, it’s only more clear to me now how much of those feelings still linger. For all the wariness I felt towards him, for all the words I threw at him to push him away, he tore through my guards as if they were paper-thin.
He moves closer, but I can’t find it in me to pull back. His forehead rests on mine. The air is thick, left with words unsaid. “Night,” he says. “I hope you like it.”
I already do, and I haven’t even opened it yet.
Yep, definitely in deep trouble. Not even neck-deep—more like six-feet under. For a moment there, I thought that he would say something else. But he doesn’t, silence stretching between us, until he nods and heads for the door.
Secretly, I almost wish he had.
Chapter 17
Ryan
“Three days?” Mom exclaims. Not a hair out of place, her disappointment is evident in the tight line of her lips. She’s holding a wooden spoon up, tomato paste dripping. “You’re only here for three days? You’re not even staying here long enough.”
“I have to arrange a few things, but I’ll be back next month and stay for a while.”
I made the decision last night.
This makes her perk up considerably. “Well, it can’t come soon enough. Come on, help me stir this.”
I stir the sauce and watch as she chops up vegetables. She pauses mid-action and looks up at me in hesitation. She exhales a breath. “Don’t get angry.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “What?”
“Your father’s having dinner with us tonight.”
My body goes rigid, stirring all but forgotten. “What the fuck? What for?”
“You come home so rarely, and he’s been wanting to see you for a while.” Her hand reaches for mine. “He’s still your father. Maybe hear him out. You don’t have to say yes, but just hear him out. That’s all he wants. And maybe it would make him stop.”
It’s easy to forget because she’s built a spine throughout the years, but she can still be soft when it comes to him, when he tries hard enough. Something that pissed me off, because he doesn’t deserve an ounce of it.
“Didn’t stop him the first time. Or the second,” I say, my voice hard. Blood pounds in my veins, roaring in my ears.
“Ryan, please.”
It’s only because of the pleading edge to her request that I eventually relent. Tempting to refuse outright, but I don’t want to upset her, having just arrived. I’ll give her this—for now. The moment he steps out of line, I’m done giving him chances.
Blaire
“Blaire!” Ryan’s sister, Natalie pulls me into a hug. Chestnut hair chopped to shoulder length, large blue-gray eyes, and an infectious smile. I’ve always thought she was pretty. We’ve maintained our friendship, even with my complicated relationship with her brother. Although we hadn’t talked as frequently as we had in the past, we still kept in touch.
She sneaks a look behind her, making sure no one is within earshot. “Are you really together?” she whispers. “Please say yes. The last girl he was with was a real piece of work.”
She looks at me expectantly. She’s about to
be disappointed.
I shake my head. “No,” I reply apologetically. “We’re just, um…” How am I meant to explain this? “…working together for a little while,” I finish.
Her expression falls. “I wish you were.”
“When was that? The last girl?” I can’t help but ask. I nearly groan out loud. Why did I just ask that? What does it matter?
“Hmm… A year ago? It’s been a while. Probably why he’s so insufferable,” she grumbles.
They’ve always been close, as far as I can remember, but I wonder what happened. “Insufferable? Did something happen?”
She blows out a breath, snagging a glass from a cabinet. She fills it up with some apple juice and collects her thoughts. “I started seeing this guy and I really liked him. I mentioned it to Ryan, and now Markus won’t talk to me anymore. He won’t tell me why, but I know Ryan called him. I heard him.
“And whenever I tried to call Ryan, he would be busy or avoid the topic entirely,” she vents incredulously. “He doesn’t even try to listen. God.”
I try to think of everything Ryan’s done so far, and to go that far, he had to have had a reason. “You’re his only sister. He’s probably just being a protective older brother.”
Her mouth falls open. “Not you too.” She groans. “You’re defending him now. Last time, I remember you two really didn’t like each other, and you were one step from dumping your drink in his face. What happened since then?”
“I don’t even know,” I answer in earnest. “We were just in Tokyo a few days ago and now we’re here.”
She leans forward on the counter, interested. “What happened in Tokyo?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh,” she utters dryly. But she’s looking at me like she knows a joke I don’t.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
A thoughtful look on her face, she reveals, “Come to think of it, I don’t think he liked that lawyer much when he met him last time. Ryan was riling him up and he was taking the bait.”
Mortified, I immediately start to deny it. “He did not.” I don’t recall that ever happening. I know I was focused on trying to avoid him, but no one ever said anything.
Her brows knit. “Oh, come on. You didn’t see that? You guys left early too. Ryan was in a hell of a mood after that. God, I can’t believe I didn’t catch that then. Only makes sense now,” she muses.
My mind tries to process what she’s told me.
She doesn’t get it. I roll my eyes. “You’ve got it all wrong. Ryan… Well, we’ve just become friends. And we don’t even get along most of the time. I think part of him enjoys messing with me.”
Her eyes twinkle, clearly finding humor in this. “You remind me of someone. She thought her best friend only saw her as just that—a best friend, and I told her there was no way. Now they’re married.”
What is she saying? That we’ll end up together too? Like that would ever happen. “That’s them. This is us.”
She draws in a deep breath. “I know he’s been a bit of an ass to you for reasons I’ll never understand. But he’s my brother. Trust me, I know him.”
I’m afraid that she’s right.
A booming voice emerges from their entrance.
Natalie grimaces. “Oh. Dad must be here. He’s early.” She sets her empty glass down in the sink.
Their dad? I know Ryan’s mom and dad separated a while ago, but from what I’ve heard, they didn’t really keep in touch all that often. Maybe they’re closer now.
But… She doesn’t look excited. If anything, she looks deflated. “I don’t even know what to say to him. It’s been so long. Don’t know what Mom’s thinking, agreeing to that dinner.”
“Trying to mend fences?” I ask gently, knowing how sensitive the topic is to them.
“Looks like it.” Eyes downcast, she confesses, “Ryan’s just trying to keep her happy, that’s why he’s letting her have this dinner. I don’t think it can go back to the way it was anymore.”
“At least we can enjoy the food,” I add, trying to lift her spirits up.
She cracks a smile. “There’s that. I just hope it will be over soon.”
He’s intimidating—it’s my first thought. Lines wrinkling his forehead like a permanent mark, his lips thin in displeasure when he looks around the house. He strides in like he owns the place. When he sees Natalie, his lips curl up, only the barest hint of a smile to soften the grim look he wears. Ryan has his eyes. Except Ryan’s aren’t cold like his dad’s. They’re warmer and kinder, framed by a dark slash of brows and lashes that turn them from harsh into irresistibly attractive.
“Gina. Natalie.” His eyes flick to me. “Who’s this?” he asks.
“This is Blaire Mendes, Ryan’s girlfriend,” Gina introduces me. It’s so odd being called that. It almost feels real. I need to stop there, because it’s a dangerous thought.
From beside me, Natalie makes a choked sound, eyes wide in surprise. Oops. I had told her we’re only friends.
Cold disinterest melts into a speculative look. “Huh. I’m Martin.” He holds out a hand and I take it, still feeling a little unsettled. His eyes dip down to my necklace before moving on to Ryan’s mom.
I hear their front door shut, only to see Ryan had arrived. He made it. He left just before lunch, saying he was going to record something in the studio. He kisses his mom’s cheek and then greets Natalie. When his eyes find mine, his lips pull up in a smile.
He tugs me close, a kiss on my temple. “Hey.”
It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just for show. “Hi,” I reply softly. Last night flashes back on my mind, and my heart flutters wildly in my chest. I can’t tell what it is, but something has changed between us.
“Nice necklace,” he observes, voice low. I put it on this morning since it matched my cream-colored top. I didn’t think much of it at the time.
“Dad,” Ryan says, nodding in acknowledgement. Still, I can’t help but notice that he’s on edge.
I slip into the kitchen as they talk. I could help set up the table… and also use it as an opportunity to clear my head. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel this way. I’m not impervious to his charms, but I can’t fall for him again… Because this is starting to feel real.
“Girlfriend? What was that?” Natalie asks from behind me, startling me.
Uh-oh. “Umm… We sort of agreed to do this thing. Now everyone thinks we’re seeing each other. It’s only for a few weeks at most.”
“Hmm…” She considers my statement, pensive. “I think I get it.”
I release a breath I didn’t know I held. “Glad you understand. Me and Ryan don’t really get along.”
A dimple on her cheek, something seems to amuse her. She chooses her next words carefully. “You say that, Blaire, but are you sure about that?” She grabs the drinks from the fridge. “Because it sure doesn’t look like it. If you hadn’t told me about you two, I would think what Mom said was true.”
When she sees my face, she presses her lips together, fighting a laugh. Argh. Why did I agree to do this again? Because if she realizes what this is turning into, I have no doubt Ryan has too.
Gina Carson is a skilled multitasker. If I didn’t know it before, what’s on the table serves as proof now. There’s roast pork stuffed with apple and walnut stuffing, potato salad, some pasta with cream sauce, and a peach cobbler. It’s impressive how she did it in a few hours.
To my left at the table, Ryan is calm. Imperturbable. A cold mask over his face, usually warm and teasing.
Martin’s beady eyes settle on Ryan, strangely reminding me of a hawk hunting its prey. “So, I had a friend call recently. You remember Tom? Came to your birthday before. Well, he told me something sounding real good. I have something you might be interested in.” I’m impressed—he never slowed down, fitting all the words in one breath.
“I already know what this will be about, but humor me,” Ryan responds dryly.
He only pauses
for a beat. “There’s land that’s a prime opportunity for an investment.”
Wow. He didn’t even wait until after dinner. I twirl my pasta around my fork. He never asked about them. No, he didn’t even have it in him to do that.
Ryan lifts a brow. “Do tell. What is it this time? A mall? A restaurant?”
Martin’s lips press into a thin line. “A casino.”
“Fucking perfect. A casino.” Except it sounds anything but perfect.
“Ryan,” his mom chides, her voice strained.
“Dad, can we not talk about business, please?” Natalie says. “I thought we’re here for a family dinner.”
“We are having dinner, Natalie.” He brushes her off, focusing on Ryan again. “They’re building the casino soon. They project to make a huge profit in three years. It’s a great investment.”
Ryan’s and Natalie’s eyes meet, communicating without words. This isn’t a deal Martin is going to end up winning.
“So what do you say? Will you have a look at it? At the documents?” he asks, persistent.
Face as hard as granite, Ryan doesn’t give him an inch. “I’ll have my lawyer read over it, and then I’ll get back to you,” he replies dispassionately.
If Martin is disappointed, he doesn’t let it show. “I’ll let you think about it, then I’ll come back,” he continues calmly.
“Don’t expect anything out of this. Like the last two times.”
Martin’s fingers twitch, but he stands up abruptly. “We’re not done here. I’ll give you a call.”
“I’ll give you a call when I’m ready,” Ryan establishes firmly, not backing down an inch. “And when you decide we’re worth more than your proposals, maybe we’ll talk.”
“Peach cobbler?” Gina asks, her hands shaking. Everyone looks at her. Martin gives it a thought and sits back down the table.
Looks like dinner will be longer than I thought.
After I finish my cobbler, I hear Ryan and his mom arguing in the kitchen. Natalie is playing mediator. I head to their terrace instead, hoping to get some fresh air… Only to find Martin smoking outside. The smoke drifts towards me. I fight the urge to fan the smoke away. He gives me a slow, assessing look. It’s like he’s sizing me up in one glance.