She looks at me. Her demeanor shows no hostility, but it’s not friendly either. “Congratulations, Paige.”
“Thank you.”
“You should come to our engagement party this weekend,” Ryder says. “I’m inviting everyone.”
She nods. “Send me the details, and I’ll see if I can make it.” There is a tiny moment of hesitation. “Is Salazar coming too?”
Ryder answers with care. “I can’t really exclude him.”
“Of course not.”
“But it’s at my place. You know how big it is. You won’t run into him unless you want to.”
“I understand.” She smoothes her dress. “The party should be all about you and Paige.” She checks her slim watch. “My goodness. I’m late for my appointment. Excuse me.”
As she walks past, the air becomes scented with Chanel No. 5.
“Do you think it’s wise to invite them both?” I ask as we step inside the waiting elevator. “They’re getting divorced.”
Ryder shrugs. “They’re both adults. They won’t do anything to embarrass us. If we don’t invite them, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Is your father coming too?” I have to keep talking. Otherwise I’m going to start thinking about my panties, or lack thereof. I want them back, but not right now. There’s a camera. Having video footage of Ryder Reed handing me my underwear in an elevator is not my idea of a good start to the week.
“He doesn’t know about the party yet. And I don’t plan to text him until Thursday. It’s not like he needs to come. All he has to know is that we’re engaged.” Ryder’s mouth twists. “You’re sure about no money for yourself at the end of our marriage?”
I almost choke. The sudden mention serves to bring back the memory of what happened in Samantha’s conference room. Ten million dollars…or a year of that.
If it were any other man, I might’ve just chosen the latter. But he is Ryder Reed, voted Sexiest Man Alive three times over. It seems reckless to open myself up to him, even physically like that.
At the same time… Taking that much money? It seems crazy.
I lick my lips. “Let me think about it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ryder
Let me think about it.
I hate those five words.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I drive us back to the main house. I used to like them. They meant that the speaker wasn’t impulsive. Was capable of considering different possibilities.
Now they sound like a delay tactic.
I can still taste Paige, and the luscious scent of her aroused flesh lingers in my nostrils. I won’t be able to forget it, ever, not even if somebody conks me on the head. My dick throbs, and I breathe through the mouth so I don’t inhale more of her fragrance, except it only seems to intensify her taste.
It might just be wishful thinking, but for a moment there it seemed like Paige was about to reciprocate. That wasn’t why I went down on her, but I’m no saint. Show me a red-blooded heterosexual man who says he’s isn’t interested in a lushly sexy woman offering to pleasure him, and I’ll show you a liar.
Then Samantha had to interrupt, just my rotten luck. And afterward, seeing Aunt Ceinlys did something to Paige, although I don’t quite know what. Did she seem intimidating to Paige? She shouldn’t let my aunt cow her. Ceinlys didn’t grow up rich, although she’s taken on the air of elegant affluence quite well. I’m sure Paige can too if that’s what she wants.
How can you be so certain? What do you know about her?
Nothing, really. Just what was in the background report.
No arrests. Not even an outstanding parking ticket under her name. A good student in college. Majored in English, minored in economics. Unexceptional family background—solid middle class with no hint of scandal or impropriety. To be expected since her stepfather’s a high school teacher, and her mother manages a grocery store.
But the facts don’t tell me anything I want to know. They don’t include her secret dreams…her favorite memories. She never told me any childhood stories or stuff about her step-sister.
Not that I talk about stuff like that or anything, but women love to talk to me about themselves. Besides, half my life is already public knowledge. Google my name and you’ll get hundreds of articles, photos and blog posts.
“When are you going to have your folks flown out?” I ask.
She clasps her hands and rests them on her lap. “I don’t know. A few days before the wedding?”
“That late?”
“Is there any point to bringing them out early? It’s just a logistical hassle. You don’t have to bother…although we should probably call and let them know everything’s fine. Simon’s worried.”