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He returns, shirt tucked back in. He comes toward me, again perching at the edge of his desk. “Are you alright Stella?”
I raise my eyes to his smiling face, but this time I see beyond the façade. And I know, twenty million or not, I couldn’t live with six months of him doing this to me. I would go insane. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Now that that’s out of the way, do you have any more questions about our contract?”
“Um, actually, yes, about that. Yeah, I don’t think we’ll work out after all, Ryan.”
His brows rise in surprise. “You’re telling me you didn’t enjoy that?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was a slice of heaven… but also a bit of hell because it left a horrible aftertaste in my mouth.” The confusion on his face tells me he doesn’t fully grasp what just happened. “I couldn’t imagine having to live the next six months on that. Thanks for considering me, but my pride and dignity are not for sale. I’m going to have to pass on your offer.”
I think of Harriet and tears spring to my eyes. I was close. So very close. But now we’re back to square one. I discreetly catch the stupid tear hanging on to my lash and tell myself I’m crying because of how close I came to achieving my dreams.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Stella. I realize this is a big ask— putting your life on hold to cater to mine—and I know you don’t like losing control. How about this; we don’t have to have sex if you prefer not to, or we could work out something else within each other’s boundaries.”
I shake my head no. My thoughts are all over the place, and now would not be the time to make rash decisions. I need to leave so I can process this properly.
As if reading my mind, Ryan says, “I’ll understand if you need some time to think about it.”
That was a reasonable suggestion, but somehow, I allow the proud and stubborn part of me to respond. “Ryan, I don’t need time. The answer is no. Like I said, I’m not the woman for this.”
I stand, turn around on admittedly shaky legs, and leave him staring after me, too mortified to explain the real reason why I’m turning him down.
Chapter Eleven
Ryan
“Something’s eating at you, Ry.” Xavier drops into the seat beside me. I turn to face my friend, watching as the strobe lights of the nightclub dance off his face.
“Is that so?” I grin. “How do you know that?”
“Come on, man,” Xavier chides. “You really think you’re an enigma because everyone else is fooled by that thousand-megawatt smile? You’re not right, man.”
It’s annoying when your friends know you that well. Xavier and I practically grew up together in Seattle, and our families are still close. “I’m still waiting for you to enlighten me, genius. What makes you think I’m not right?”
“For one, I don’t see you bringing in the women.”
My friends and I make it a habit to celebrate small milestones with a night out. The definition of a small milestone ranges from closing a deal to tearing off a hangnail. So, my send-off to Seattle would be considered a legit reason to get all the boys out.
“It’s my fucking party Xavi, you’d think someone else would be doing the honors for once?”
“Pulling women? No Ry, that’s your specialty,” Xavier cocks his head toward the rest of our friends. “Wyatt is all mouth; he might as well be an altar boy; Ethan and Jordan are retired, and so am I. That leaves you man.”
I snort. I look over to the far side of the VIP lounge where the boys are arguing over a pool table. “Ethan’s getting hitched to Bonnie in less than a month, and Jordan—”
“Can no longer recognize a female species that isn’t Sabrina” Xavier finishes and we laugh.
Jordan and Sabrina have been married the longest among us and we declared that he lost his edge ages ago.
“That leaves you, the life of the party. And you’ve been quiet as a mouse with that strange look on your face since you got that phone call. So, before I freak out and imagine the worst, spit it out.”
I lean back on the box sofa and sigh. “It was my cousin. The guy just undermines me at every turn. What the hell does the fucker want from me?”
Xavier laughs. “Same thing they all want. A piece of you, Ry. Or rather, you, in pieces. Which one of them was it this time?”
“Don.”
“Which one is Don?” Xavier scratches his stubble. “The one whose wife disappeared? Or the one who married his stepsister?” Xavier has always found the Fairchild family’s dynamic extremely entertaining.
