Could I do this and have my heart remain intact?
Staring up at Ryland, I saw the face of a guy I both hated and liked. A guy that confused the crap out of me and made my blood pound, and my heart race.
The answer was no.
No, my heart was would be completely smashed to pieces if I ever got involved with Ryland, because no matter how hard I'd tried to keep him at a distance, no matter how many times I told myself he was a dangerous, he was already taking hold of me in ways I didn't expect.
I drew in a breath to reply when Ryland's attention suddenly fell to a point behind me.
His gaze hardened instantly at what he saw.
“Ryland,” came a cold voice.
I turned around and found myself staring up at a distinguished-looking older man.
White dusted the temples of his thick black hair, and his features were cold and angular. While he wasn't as tall as Ryland, his military bearing made it seem like he was.
Two other men stood at his sides, and I recognized the bespectacled one as Johnson Colt, the CFO of Wyatt Corp, and the slim one as Neil Wright, the Managing Director..
Which would make the first man…
“Dad,” Ryland greeted coolly. “Johnson, Neil.”
Thomas Wyatt Jr. didn't return his son's greeting, instead regarding him with a cold look.
I had never met Thomas before, since he’d spent most of his time in LA when we were back in San Juan, but there had been rumours about his strictness and cold demeanor.
Evidently, they weren’t just rumours.
My startled gaze flitted between the father and son.
Ryland and Thomas didn't look much alike at first glance, but the proud way they held themselves was the same. From afar, they might have looked like mirror images staring each other down.
Their eyes were the same as well, I realized.
Icy blue irises like glaciers, lighter than any I'd seen before.
But while Ryland's warmed with humor whenever he smiled—rare as that was—Thomas' looked completely incapable of thawing. His stare chilled me to the bone, and he wasn't even directing it at me.
“I was just looking for you,” Thomas told Ryland, his voice sharp. “Johnson here was telling me about the latest updates on the Brooklyn project. Looks like you were wrong about Fletchers after all.”
I snapped my brows together, looking at the CFO who was now shifting uncomfortably.
Why was he reporting behind Ryland's back?
And more importantly, why didn't Ryland seem surprised by it?
“It’s nothing we weren’t prepared for. You already knew that.” Ryland’s tone was calm, though I could sense the ripples of tension just under the surface, as if he were bracing himself for a fight.
Thomas' eye contact didn't break. “I did. But if you got rid of them when I told you to, we won't be having this delay now.”
“And like I said, if we broke the contract without warning, we'd be slapped with a lawsuit, and Smithson would not be working with us.”
Thomas gave a bark of laughter. “We're Wyatt Corporation.” He spread his hands as if stating an obvious fact. “They will work with us.”
Ryland smiled coldly. “We’re not the oligarchy like back in your day, Dad. Now there are rules that even we have to play by.”
Thomas went still at Ryland’s insinuation of his ignorance.
“Don't get so cocky, boy,” he sneered. “Everything you have now was built by me, you hear? You were nothing before I raised you up.”
My mouth fell open.
“That's not fair,” I cut in. “The company is doing so well under Ryland, everyone knows that. Isn't this what you wanted from him in the first place?”
Thomas Wyatt turned his full attention to me, and I actually took a half-step back from the sheer hostility in his expression.
“Alecia Beckett, was it?” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “You remind me of your father.”
My heart slammed against my ribs, but I couldn't look away from Thomas' cold eyes as they bore into me.
“Yes, I knew Horace very well. Worked his way up with nothing but his silver tongue.” He smiled coldly. “Your old man was good with words, but unfortunately, he never knew when to stop talking.”
I paled at his meaning, and Ryland tensed beside me.
“Enough,” he growled.
But Thomas didn't stop there.
“A word of advice to you, young lady,” he sneered. “When your betters are speaking, you keep quiet, and you pay attention.”
To my horror, my eyes began to prick with heat, and Thomas smiled with satisfaction.
“Now be a good girl and fetch us something to drink.”
My feet moved—with the intention to run, not to be Thomas Wyatt's retriever—but Ryland's hand took my arm in a firm grip.
“She's my assistant, not your servant,” he clipped, his voice tight with fury. “You’ll get your damned drink yourself.”
I swallowed nervously.
Around us, curious onlookers had begun to gather, hoping to get a glimpse of the heated exchange between New York's most famous father and son pair.
Thomas' smile was cruel. “Do you really want to do this now, boy? With so people many watching?”
Then he gave me a sidelong look. “Go on,” he ordered again.
Ryland's hand tightened on my arm as he stared down his father. Every muscle in his body was tense, but I still caught a hint of uncertainty in his fierce expression.
A pang twisted my chest.
How many times had his father played the same sick power game in front of an audience?
And how many times had they taken his father's side against his?
Thomas looked determined to prove that Ryland's authority was just an illusion, and I never hated anyone so much at that moment that I hated him for trying to undermine a proud guy like Ryland.
I gazed up at Ryland's tense profile. “I'm sorry, Mr. Wyatt,” I said.
A flash of hurt crossed his face, but he remained unmoving as a statue.
I turned back to Thomas and continued my address. “But I'm not going anywhere. Ryland's my employer, and I answer to him, not you.”
The looks of shock and disbelief from three of the most powerful men in the company were downright intimidating, but I forced myself to stand my ground.
Ryland looked surprised too, but his expression warmed as he gazed down at me.
“You heard her,” he said, his voice softening with a note of pride. “We'll continue this conversation another time.”
Johnson and Neil murmured their agreements, but Thomas took a step closer to Ryland, his eyes burning with barely-leashed anger.
“Congratulations,” he growled. “You've finally found yourself a pet. But don't forget that everyone has a price.”
“This one doesn't,” Ryland smiled faintly. “Trust me, I tried.”
Thomas' glare didn't waver. “You watch your back, boy. You're getting too cocky for your own good.”
Spearing me with a final look of animosity, Thomas spun and strode away, his two lackeys following close behind.
Ryland took my arm and deftly guided me out a side door to an empty hallway outside.
“You okay?” he asked in a low voice.
“About my dad? Yeah.” I swallowed. “I'm sorry, the words just came out before I knew it. Will this cause any trouble for you?”
“Probably,” Ryland said easily, humor gleaming in his eyes. “But if you hadn't done that, it would have gotten way uglier, trust me.”
“You'd think he'd be proud of what you achieved,” I said in bewilderment. “Isn't that what he wanted from you?”
Ryland paused. “He was for a while, years ago.”
“Until you became a threat to his ego?”
“Knowing him, yeah, but he'd die before he admitted it. If it's one thing we have in common, it's pride.”
Ryland’s gaze turned heated then, and my breath caught as he reached out and
brushed my lower lip with his thumb.
“A Beckett saving a Wyatt,” he murmured. “Who would have thought?”
Voices came from around the corner then, and Ryland gave me a grin. “Come on. Let's go someplace quieter.”
I blinked. “Aren't there people you need to meet with? Business partners and future clients?”
“Yeah, but right now, there's some other place I'd rather be, with someone else.”
Before I could eke out a reply, Ryland took my hand.
“Come,” he said in a low voice.
I was helpless not to follow.
“A greenhouse on the top floor?” I stared wide-eyed at the three-story high glass atrium Ryland had taken me to.
It was so large that it could probably fit a few of Ryland's penthouses comfortably. The lush greenery of the plants formed a winding garden within, complete with seating areas and reading corners.
“It's for private use for the Lancasters and the VIP residents,” Ryland said, “but since they're all at the dinner downstairs, we'll have the place to ourselves.”
“Amazing.” I looked around again, then up at the dark sky beyond us. “I didn’t know this place existed.”
We wandered around for several minutes, and Ryland waited whenever I stopped to poke at a flower or plant.
“What's that smell, by the way?” I asked, inhaling a deep breath of the warm air in the greenhouse. “Is it lemon?”
“Close. It's the citrus trees, in the orangery at the back.”
I followed as Ryland led me out to a back wing filled with flowering trees. The scent of orange and lemon was so intense it was like someone had spilled a concentrated bottle of the smell around us.
I picked a loose white flower from a low branch and brought it to my nose.
“Oh, hey,” I blinked. “It's sweet. I thought it would smell like lemons.”
I held it out to Ryland, who raised his brow.
“I'm not gonna stand here sniffing flowers from your hands,” he said archly.
“Your loss.” I dropped the flower and dusted my hands on my dress.
Ryland slipped his hands into his pockets and took a considering look around. “I was thinking of installing a similar greenhouse in our next project.”
“Really?” I smiled in surprise. “I think it would be a hit with your residents. At least, I would like it.”
“You think?” Ryland angled his head, looking around the glasshouse thoughtfully. “What kind of plants should we have?”
“Hmm.” I looked up at the trees around us. “Definitely these.”
“Noted. What else?”
I strolled past the trees, running my fingers on their waxy leaves. “Roses,” I suggested, “and maybe some orchids. Anything with flowers really, then you can bring in butterflies.”
“A butterfly garden at the top of a building.” Ryland nodded slowly. “That should get us some decent media coverage.”
“You're such a businessman,” I remarked. “Most people would be thinking about how pretty it would be. Your mind goes straight to the money.”
“Occupational hazard.” He tipped his chin, gesturing at me to follow him.
I trailed behind him as he led me to a glass door at the back of the greenhouse.
My eyes widened when I saw what lay beyond the glass walls. “Is that what I think it is?”
“See for yourself.”
Ryland opened a door, and a crisp wind blew in immediately, pinning my dress around my legs. I stepped out onto an open-air terrace made of rough-hewn stone. It opened out to the night city, and beyond that, the waters of Upper Bay.
I was at the top of Manhattan.
“It's even better in the morning,” Ryland said, resting a forearm on the stone parapet. “The sun reflects off the water, and the bay becomes this golden mirror.”
“I can imagine,” I whispered.
I'd never felt more alive than I was at this point. Every detail hit my senses keenly, from the cooling surface of the stone parapet against my fingers to the saltiness in the breeze that swirled around us. This high up, I could hear nothing but the wind in my ears.
The dizzying height should have made me afraid, but Ryland was a warm, steadying presence beside me.
It was just the two of us atop the city, but at that moment, it felt like there was only the two of us in the world.
I looked up at Ryland, my throat tight all of a sudden. “Thanks for bringing me here. It's amazing.”
My words died in my throat the moment Allie stared up at me with that smile.
Being me, I hadn’t come up here with the sole intention of showing her this—I had a business agenda that Cam was taking care of downstairs.
But now, I was damned glad I chose this spot.
“What about our suites?” I said, trying to regain my bearings. “It has a better view of the city and Central Park.”
“Yeah, but you're also hogging the penthouse.” Allie patted the parapet. “So I like Cam's more.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“Are you?”
“I don't fall for that kind of shit, Allie cat,” I informed her.
She grinned as she leaned over the parapet, arching her body to the city. “Those buildings look so small from here. How long does it take to build one of them?”
“Shorter than you'd expect. The Chrysler Building there,” I pointed at a tower with lights at the top in a scale formation. “That took two years, starting 1928. And the Empire State Building took only one year. The one we're constructing over at Brooklyn will be breaking ground soon, and assuming Smithson cleans up Fletchers' mess in time, we’ll be done in three years.”
Allie looked impressed, which I'll admit, felt pretty damned good.
“What is it like to own so much?” she asked curiously.
“Good,” I said, seeing no reason to lie. “I like the money, and I like the power that comes with it.”
“Are those your words, or your father's?”
I looked at her sharply, but there was only quiet interest in her expression.
I turned back to the city. “Mine. My father may have shaped my early years, but my ambitions are mine. My achievements are mine.” I paused. “And my mistakes are mine.”
“Your mistakes? Did you just say that word?”
“I'm not perfect, Allie cat. Don’t be fooled by my exterior.”
“Oh, I believe it,” she retorted. “Just not the fact that you're admitting it.”
I grinned. “Wanna know something else?”
She gave me a questioning look.
“In all the years I've known my father, no one, and I repeat, no one has ever gone against him. Whether it's our employees, or our business rivals, everyone treats him like he's some sort of king.”
Everyone except Allie.
The funny thing was that she was the only one who was unaware of what she’d just did.
Other than me, she was the first person who ever stood up to Thomas Wyatt, which meant that she was also first person who had ever taken my side.
It had shocked the hell out of me earlier, but more than that, it scared the hell out of me. I didn't know how to react to this any more than I knew how to handle my growing obsession with her.
“He sure thinks he's a king,” Allie muttered. “I hate the way he stares, like...like he knows exactly how to cut you down, but is deciding whether he wants to or not.” She rubbed her hands over her arms. “Like he's judging you for everything, and he finds you completely worthless.”
I smiled without humor. “Trust me, I know that feeling.”
Then I shrugged off my jacket and placed it on her shoulders.
“Thanks.” Allie didn't meet my eyes as she pulled the lapels closer about her neck. “I can't believe you had to deal with that for years.”
I stared out at the city, feeling strangely relaxed for the fact that I was about to tell Allie the one thing I never shared with anyone, alive or dead.
“Have you heard about my mother?” I said.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Allie turn to me.
“Your mother?” she asked hesitantly. “No, only that she’s passed. And that she and your dad were separated.”
I nodded once. “I never met her, but I tried. I was six when I first saw a letter from her. I was up to something in my father's study, chasing the dog or some shit, and then I saw my name on an envelope on his desk. I couldn't read everything at that age, but I understood some meanings.” I drew in a deep breath. “And I knew the word “cancer”.”
Allie's hands went to her mouth, but I couldn't stop even if I wanted.
And I didn’t want to. For some reason, it was easier to keep talking.
“I went to Worthy with the letter, and he read it out to me. She’d asked to see me. She didn't want to take me with her when she left San Juan, but I guess death changes some things.” My lips twisted. “I still hated her, obviously. But I wanted answers.”
And just maybe, I’d wanted an apology.
My jaw tightened.
“I went to my father and asked to see her. Begged until my throat was raw. Promised to pull my grades up, fuck, to do anything. But that only got me this look from him, like I was the biggest disappointment. I never got to see her, and that was the last time I asked anything of him.”
“I'm so sorry,” Allie whispered.
“If you’re pitying me, stop,” I said tightly.
Allie was silent beside me.
Then: “I really, really hate him.”
Her unexpected growl made me grin.
Fuck, but Allie looked hot as hell when she was pissed.
If someone had told me that one day, a five-feet-five brunette half my weight would be defending me against Thomas Wyatt Jr., I'd have told them to get high on something else.
Not even in my dreams had I expected Allie Beckett to be her.
“Don't laugh, this isn't funny,” she muttered. “There's no excuse for the things he does. It's horrible.”
“If you're trying to make me like you, Allie cat, it's working.” I reached out a hand and caressed her waist suggestively. “All the things you're saying right now are turning me on.”
She swatted my hand away. “I'm serious. My father didn't care much about us either. We were practically invisible, though now I'm not sure which of us had it worse.”
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