“No!” he says, shifting in his seat. “I am the one dealing with the Anderson file, and it hasn’t even gone to auction yet. The date is still out a month …”
“No, babe.” I shake my head. “I’m not a hundred percent sure when the date is set for, but it’s done with.”
“Who bought it?” he growls.
“They wouldn’t tell us,” I say, lowering my head.
“How long do you have?” he demands.
“The doors close after today.”
His hand softly grabs my chin, and he lifts my head to where I have to look up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his brows pulling together.
“I wanted to. But you came home and had just found out about Maggie …” He closes his eyes and sighs. “Ever since then, things have been nothing short of chaos.” We both know that he hasn’t been in the best of moods since he took over the company and found out about his little sister. Me losing my job was the last thing he needed to worry about.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, looking back at me. “But that doesn’t explain why that guy mentioned Seattle.”
I take my hand from his. “He runs the Mason Gallery here in town, and Thomas was able to get a job there. So he got me an interview. But they aren’t hiring anyone else. But they do have a spot open in their sister gallery in Seattle—”
“Absolutely not!” he interrupts me.
“Let me finish,” I snap.
His jaw is set in a hard line, and he turns to look straight ahead, staring at Milton’s head as if he can really see where we are going. “I told him no.”
He turns back to face me. I reach out and grab his hands in mine. “I told you I love you. I told you that I’m all in. Hell, I moved in with you, and you still doubt how I feel?” I ask in complete disbelief. “When did the roles reverse?” I ask, trying to smile and lighten the mood.
He sighs. “Babe.”
“I’m trying not to make things more difficult for you, Ryder, but you’re making things hard for me. I’m trying to handle this on my own, so it’s one less thing you have to worry about. Please, trust me.”
“No,” he says.
“No?”
He gives me a soft smile. “No,” he repeats as he cups my face. “I won’t let you do it on your own because part of my job is to take care of you. And I hate that you didn’t come to me.”
I shrug. “I just thought you bought Talia’s and forgot to tell me through all the chaos.”
“But I didn’t buy it. But you can bet your ass I’m gonna find out who did,” he assures me. “I will find you another job.”
I sigh. “I’ve been calling for days now, and no one is even hiring. Thomas told me today that it’s bad. In his search for another job, he was informed that other galleries are closing as well. That due to the easy access of internet, no one is going to the galleries anymore. They prefer to buy them from their phones or at home from their computer. He just happened to get lucky.”
“We’re here, Mr. O’Kane,” Milton announces.
“Give us a second,” he calls out.
Milton doesn’t respond, but I watch him get out and stand over on the sidewalk in front of Talia’s. I turn my attention back to Ryder, and he leans close to me. “Don’t worry about anything. Okay? I will take care of it. I promise.” I open my mouth to argue, but he places his finger over my lips. “The only words I want to hear are yes, Ryder.”
I laugh and pull away from his finger. “Yes, Ryder,” I say with a smile. It’s crazy how this man can make me happy when I should be freaking out.
“Okay, so I lied. I want to hear one other thing,” he admits.
“What is that?”
“I love you.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and place my forehead on his. “I love you.”
His hands slide up my ribs, and he gently presses his lips to mine. “You’re mine, baby.” I nod then give him a kiss of my own. “And I take care of what is mine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
RYDER
I walk back into my office and find my assistant sitting behind her desk on her office phone. “Kelly,” I say, slamming my hand on her desk.
She looks up at me wide-eyed and whispers, “Gotta go,” into the phone before hanging it up. “Yes, Mr. O’Kane?”
“Get me the Anderson file,” I order. “Somehow, the auction has taken place without my knowledge.”
She looks up at me. “They called.”
“What?” I snap.
“The other day, I tried to tell you that you had a call on line four, but you ran out of here …”
“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me it was for the gallery?” I snap.
She opens her mouth and then closes it before opening it again. “I …”
“Ryder?”
“What?” I snap, turning around to see my father’s assistant, Jackie, flinch from my harsh tone. “What?” I demand again when she just stands there staring at me like a deer in headlights.
She holds out her hand. “I got some more information on that business for you ...”
“At least someone is doing their job around here,” I growl, yanking it free of her hands, storming into my office, and slamming the door behind me.
ASHLYN
I walk into the apartment and sit down. The silence of the room is deafening. I got a text from Ryder earlier that he would be working late just as I expected.
Harry meows as he jumps on my lap, and I rub his back. My phone lights up, and I pick it up to see a picture from Becca. It’s a bottle of wine and a plate of spaghetti.
Becca: Hungry?
I let out a laugh and reply.
Me: Be there in two.
“I’ll be back.” I kiss him on his wrinkly head and place him on the ground then make my way down to my old apartment.
“Hey,” I say as she opens the door for me.
“Hey,” she says softly, and I hate that she too is still upset.
“How are things? Better?” I ask with hope.
She hangs her head as she walks over to the couch. “Not really.”
I blow some blond strands off my face as I plop down beside her. “It can only get better,” I say with a smile.
She laughs at me. “Since when did you become so optimistic? I don’t remember you being that way.”
“Since I had no other choice,” I say truthfully.
“What do you mean?” she asks slowly.
I pick up the bottle of wine and pour some into one of the glasses already sitting on the coffee table. I hand it to her and then fill the other. “Since I lost my job,” I say, lifting my glass in salute to her.
Her eyes widen. “What? When?”
“Today was my last day,” I tell her.
“Oh, my God, Ashlyn. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “I’ll find another one.” Then I tip the glass back not really sure I believe that statement.
I don’t know how much time passes, but Becca and I are currently on our third bottle of wine. After we finished off her second one, I had to go up to my and Ryder’s apartment to get another one.
We lie on the floor of her living room—why, I don’t know—laughing when we hear the front door open. I know it’s not Ryder because he doesn’t have a key.
“Found them.” I hear Jaycent’s voice.
Becca and I both sit up and look over the coffee table to see Ryder and Jaycent both standing in the entryway.
“Hey,” I say, raising my glass in salute. And Ryder surprises me by smiling at me. Maybe he ended up having a good day after all.
He walks over to me. “Having fun?”
I take a gulp of what’s left of my glass in answer. He chuckles. “Come on; let’s go home.” He yawns. “I’m tired.”
I say my goodbyes, and Becca tells me that we are going to hang out tomorrow since I have no other plans. Like a job. Ryder helps me up to our apartment, and I’m laughing when we walk through the front door.
“I’m g
uessing you had a good day?” I ask as the room tilts a little bit.
He bends down and sweeps me off my feet, and I squeal at the sudden movement. “Nope. It was pretty shitty.”
I frown as he carries me off to our bedroom. “Then why are you smiling?” I ask when he lays me on the bed.
He falls down beside me, and his hand comes up to cup my face. “Because you were smiling.”
I lick my numb lips and give him what I think feels like another smile. He laughs before leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on them. Then he lifts my shirt and flattens his warm hand on my stomach. I lift my hips off the bed and his fingers dip inside the waistband of my shorts, teasing me.
I close my eyes and say, “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” he asks, and my eyes are too heavy to open, but his voice sounds rough.
“Because you’re tired,” I remind him.
He pulls his hand away, and I let out a moan in protest. “Are you tired?” he asks, and then I feel his hands undoing my button and zipper.
“No,” I whisper.
I lift my hips as he pulls my shorts down my legs, and then I hear them hit the floor. I jump when I feel his lips on my hip. “Then neither am I,” he whispers against my skin as they trail lower.
With my eyes still closed, my hands run through his thick, spiked hair as my pussy tightens, knowing where he’s heading. “Please,” I beg.
He pulls my panties to the side. “I love when you beg for it, darling.”
I grip his hair and lift my hips, but his hands push them down, keeping them in place. “So greedy,” he whispers.
“I need you,” I say, opening my eyes for the first time, and the room sways. Closing them again, I hear him chuckle.
I feel him sit up, and my hands fall from his hair. I lie there refusing to open my eyes, not wanting to get sick. He slides my panties slowly down my legs, and it feels like the delicate fabric is burning my skin.
“Ryder …” I pant, running my hands up my stomach and lifting my shirt in the process to expose my breasts. I have a bra on, and I feel him pull it down right before his lips touch my nipple. I gasp as he sucks on it, making it harden. Then his teeth nibble on it, and I moan loudly.
He pulls away, and my body feels cold. His hands grip my hips, and his fingers dig into my skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you tonight, baby, and love you.”
**
I spent most of the week with Becca. And it felt like old times again back when we lived in Seattle. We had school and work back then, but we would spend every free moment we had with either my parents or just chilling at our apartment. But since we moved to New York six weeks ago, I’ve spent all my free time with Ryder—besides that week we were apart. And she spends all her time with Jaycent. It was nice to have my best friend around. Even if I was jobless.
Friday finally came, and it was time to head to the Hamptons for their cousin’s wedding. Ryder had somehow managed to take the day off since it was also Fourth of July weekend.
We woke up early Friday morning as if it was any other day, got ready, and was out the door by eight, luggage in tow.
We make our way down to the lobby, and I start to walk toward the front door when he takes a left. “Where are you going?” I ask, coming to a stop.
“To the parking garage.”
My eyes widen. “There’s a parking garage here?”
He chuckles as he waits for me to catch up with him. “You didn’t know that?”
“I don’t have a car.” Why would I need to know that?
We take another left and walk down a long hallway. At the end, there’s another elevator. “Thought we were going to the parking garage?” I ask as it opens, and he steps into it.
“We are.” He scans his key card. “There is not much room for parking in New York, so the buildings that do have them are underground.” I nod as if I knew that.
We go down a few floors, and the doors slide open when we reach the parking garage. I step out into the brightly lit garage and follow him since I have no idea where he is parked.
Then I see the SUV, but he walks right past it. “Aren’t we taking the Escalade?” I ask, running to catch up with him.
“No. Milton will need it this weekend.”
I frown. “Where is he going?”
“To see his family.”
“How will he get it? Do we need to take it to him?”
He looks at me over his shoulder with a smile on his face. “He lives here in the building.”
Of course, he does! I roll my eyes at myself. That makes total sense now.
He turns to the left, and I see his apartment number written in white paint on the concrete wall in front of a white car. “What kind of car is that?” I ask, looking at the sleek thing. It sits low to the ground with blacked-out windows and big black rims. My first thought is that it matches his private jet.
“It’s a Bugatti Veyron,” he says as if I should know what that is. I’ve never heard of it before.
He opens the passenger side for me, and I bend down, sliding into the white leather seat. He closes the door, and I feel like I’m sitting in the cockpit of a plane. The dash is solid black with a few silver accents in the center. It smells of expensive leather and brand new. He climbs in beside me. He starts it up, and the car hums from the deep sound of the exhaust.
A screen pops out, and he pulls out of his spot. “How often do you drive this?” I ask as he maneuvers us out of the very tight parking garage. It makes me nervous he’s gonna hit a concrete barrier.
“I’ve driven it like twenty times.”
“Did you just get it?” I ask.
He shakes his head as we start to climb a small hill, and I see a red gate ahead of us. “No. I’ve had it a little over two years now.”
“Why even buy it if you never drive it?” I wonder.
He stops in front of the gate and reaches out, pressing a few numbers on a keypad. The gate rises, and he proceeds into a back alley. “You’ll see,” he says, looking over at me with a smile on his face.
Traffic is a bitch. I guess I never really pay attention when I’m in the back seat of the Escalade while Milton drives us around. But it’s bumper to bumper for as far as the eyes can see. It is Fourth of July weekend, after all.
But I like that he is driving. I haven’t seen him behind the wheel of a car. He has a baseball cap on backwards, just like the first night I met him in Panama. His hair peeks out from the sides, and he wears a pair of Aviators. His right hand is on the stick shift while his left lies carelessly over the steering wheel. He looks so carefree. So not the Ryder I’ve seen the past couple of weeks. He’s got a pair of holey jeans on with tennis shoes along with a light blue t-shirt. The way the color makes his skin glow has my mouth watering. And every time he shifts, his arm muscles flex, showing me how defined they are.
The windows are down, and the radio is up. He comes to a stop at a light and looks over at me. Reaching over, he turns the radio down and smirks. “What?”
“Just admiring how gorgeous you are,” I say, making him laugh.
“You’re the only gorgeous one in this car,” he says, reaching over and grabbing my hand from my lap.
“I’m pretty sure those are the same sunglasses and hat you were wearing the first night I met you on the beach,” I say.
He smiles, not taking his eyes off the road. “Remember what you said to me?” I frown. “I told you that I could be anything you wanted me to be …”
“I said I wanted you to be mine,” I say, remembering with a smile.
He brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
I go to open my mouth, but his phone rings through the speakers. He presses a button on the screen, and the sound of a woman fills the car.
“Mr. O’Kane?” she asks nervously.
“Yes,” he answers, rolling up the windows as the light turns green. He shifts, and we start to move forward through the intersection.
You can hear her take a
deep breath. She seems nervous. “I know you have taken the day off …”
“I have.”
“Yes, sir, but I have finally got a hold of those papers you were requesting.”
“Email them to me.”
He places his blinker on, switches lanes, and the roar of the car as he speeds up vibrates my seat. I refrain from moaning at the feel of it. I’m so turned on right now it’s not even funny.
I reach over and place my hand on his thigh and very slowly move to the center of his legs. I feel his cock start to harden, and I smile to myself.
He clears his throat as he shifts in his seat. “Thanks, Jackie. Have a great weekend.” Then he reaches over and presses end. The music once again fills the small car. “Ashlyn,” he growls in warning.
I don’t stop. “How long is it to the Hamptons?”
He clears his throat again as I squeeze him through his jeans. “On a normal day, two and a half hours.”
I smile to myself as I remove my hand. He looks in his side mirror and changes lanes again, getting onto a highway. Perfect! Undoing my seat belt, I shift to my side and lean over. My hands pull his shirt up, revealing his defined abs, and I quickly undo his jeans.
“Babe …” he groans.
“What?” I ask innocently, pulling him through his boxers and wrapping my hands around the base of his beautiful cock. “We have plenty of time.”
Realizing I’m not gonna give up, he sits farther down in his seat and throws his right hand over the back of my seat before I lean down and take him into my mouth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RYDER
She sits next to me, a smile on her face as she sings along with the radio. She bounces up and down in her seat. I have the windows down and her blond hair blows around her face wildly as I drive through the Hamptons. And I smile at her. I’ve seen an entirely different Ashlyn than I knew. So much has happened in the past few weeks, yet she seems freer than before. It’s almost if she has no cares in the world.
I slow the car as I come to a driveway. I pull into it, and she leans out of the car window. We pull up to a gate, and I punch in the code I was given. Once it opens, she gasps. “This is where the wedding is?” she asks in awe.
Selfless (Selfish Series Book 3) Page 18
