I indulged in the real Ryleigh – the raw, sensitive survivor who resides beneath that strong, tough fight that approaches any manner of situation with poise and indignation.
I was yet to find an angle to this woman that I hated.
So, for today only, I play the dutiful male, and here I am holding her door open as she climbs out of my Maserati.
“I’m going to make you eat pancakes more often if this is the man who comes from it,” she mocks me, teasing so playfully as she waits for me to shut the door and grab our bags. “You seem to like taking me to places with little explanation,” she comments as we walk toward a building.
We drove for a little over thirty minutes before I took us from the highway and started to head back toward the outskirt downtown Brooklyn. Where the buildings started to get taller, the architecture started to add value, and where life was vibrant.
“This one is pretty self-explanatory,” I comment, remaining evasive on the matter. “It’s where we’re going to stay for a few days. I just want some of the dust to settle over what that cunt did, and I want to work it out so you never have to go near that club unless you’re hanging off my arm.”
“We’re staying here?” she asks, looking up at the building in front of us. She seemingly glazes over my comment at the end, but I’ll let her have it. “How many apartments do you own?”
“I only have two,” I state dryly, placing a hand onto the small of her back to force her to look forward and walk. “The Clock Tower is where I live, but this I inherited after my parents died. I come here very rarely, but it’s where I come to recoup.”
“So you decided to bring me here?” she asks, her tone aghast.
“We’re going to live a little,” I merely suggest. “Now, come on...” I trail off, giving her another small push. With our bags in one hand, I’m at ease to guide her while finding the keys. “It’s getting breezy out here.”
“Mmm, definitely getting you on a pancake diet.”
I laugh but unlock the main door and usher her away from the chilly Brooklyn street. As I walk in, I allow the door to shut behind me and push the button for the elevator. The doors open with ease and Ryleigh walks in. She places herself in the far right corner, waiting for me to enter. I do so, pushing the button for the apartment on the tenth floor and watch the doors glide shut. I take a moment to watch Ryleigh in the stainless steel reflection. She’s trying to take it all in, but while looking at the small box, she catches me watching her.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I comment, offering the tiniest of smirks. “You’re just a very beautiful woman, cara. You’ve not taken a moment to put any makeup on today and I haven’t seen a more stunning sight than you look right now.”
From the way she smiles, I’ve made her bashful. It’s further affirmed when she bows her head momentarily before looking back at me. She’s grinning brightly now, and while our reflection isn’t sharp and distinct, I can tell she is rarely paid a genuine comment.
I lead the way this time, forcing her to trail behind me. I don’t walk her far, merely a few steps, before stopping in a grand doorway. Unlocking the door, I throw it open and step aside to allow her entrance. She does so without an order and I follow. I place our bags down, using my foot to kick the door closed. I watch her walk into the apartment a little more, looking around as she advances further. This place, unlike my other place, is far homier. It has a large couch surrounding a television with throws and cushions in preparation for movie nights. The kitchen is stocked and ready to cook a feast. There’s no minimalism here, no large open windows for walls. It’s much more private here, far cozier.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she muses, turning back to me. “It feels like a home.”
“Was always my home away from home,” I comment, smiling as I remember a few memories from this place. “Don’t get too comfortable. I want to show you something.”
“What now?”
I smirk, not speaking. I take her hand, drawing her away from the middle of the apartment and toward a door to the side. She protests, but I remain silent as I drag her behind me. I open the door, flick the switch to reveal a staircase, and continue to pull her forward. We rush up the stairs until I only let go of her hand to fight with the stiff lock of the door. As it comes free, I step aside, one hand on the handle, and allow her the first view.
“Welcome to my heaven on earth,” I say, throwing the door open.
She steps forward, allowing the atmosphere created up here to swallow her. She waltzes out, her steps slow, and I can tell she’s overwhelmed when she stops mid-step.
“I didn’t think the cityscape could look more breathtaking than it does right now,” she gushes, her voice stolen in awe.
I walk out behind her, allowing her to walk further out. She stands staring around at the rooftop, every viable inch covered with all kinds of flowers and plants. It’s like a rooftop jungle, one my father prided himself on. It was his greatest achievement besides his wife and children; I couldn’t allow this to disintegrate like his memory.
“My father made this happen, and I made sure it had some upkeep.”
“Dante,” she says, her voice still weak as she reaches out to touch petals and leaves. “It’s absolutely beautiful up here.”
I lead her to the side of the building, presenting her with the entirety of Brooklyn and decide to tell her what the importance of this place is to me.
“My father owned this entire building. He kept it solely as the place he would bring my mother when he wanted to romance her.” I smile sideways, feeling nostalgia wash over me. “She loved flowers and he knew that about her. Our home always smelled of fresh flowers that he’d only bring her from here. He kept this place immaculate, and he would bring her here when he wanted to cherish her. He may have been involved with some corrupt shit, but he never let my mother suffer for it. It was the same with my brother, sister, and me. We were very sheltered from what he did for work.”
“Your grandfather changed that I’m guessing?”
“Yes,” I comment, allowing her the insight. “He took over as my legal guardian, and he never sheltered me from anything but a free life. I grew up scrutinized from every angle. I stood no chance because, by the time I was old enough to understand, I was already groomed and working by his side.”
“And now?”
I grin, not out of enjoyment, but more to solicit the irony that has so vehemently swamped my life.
“I use the power to my advantage,” I say, gloating some. “I kill those who I feel deserve it, I take back what was taken from others, and I involve myself in the deals and kills my grandfather issues. I’m like the devil and angel in one,” I joke, laughing at myself. “I’m too good for hell but too bad for heaven.”
“Mmm, purgatory never seemed so good,” she teases, giggling lightly. “Guess we’ll both end up there together now.”
“Couldn’t imagine anyone else to be my queen in the afterlife than the girl I’ve chosen to be by my side in this life,” I tell her, taking a step forward.
Placing a hand on her hip, I draw her close so we’re almost chest-to-chest. I gaze down at her, but I sense her derision. I caress her body closer to mine, enjoying the closeness of her body. I’ve run far too long from this woman, but she’s breaking me down. She’s my kryptonite, and I don’t think she even realizes it.
“You know this is temporary,” she declares, hesitating. “Your rules, not mine. What we have will end because you and I both know I won’t be able to withstand everything you bring to the table. One day I will reach my breaking point. You’ll find my Achilles’ heel, and I’ll be old news.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make you old news.”
“But you and I both know you can’t keep me around forever,” she states, her voice lowering some. “We didn’t make a forever pact.”
I feel my confession involuntarily ball in my throat, causing a rock, and the words refuse to budge
from it. Instead, I gaze down upon her, drinking her in but remain silent until I can find the words that will speak freely.
“I think you’ll take a long time to break, little wolf,” I muse, bringing a hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face. “But there will be a day when I have to set you free, for your own good, not mine.”
“It won’t ever be for my own good,” she replies, seriousness masks her face. “You’re skin deep and you don’t even realize it. It won’t ever be for my own good.” She now steps away from my hold and my touch, forcing space between us. “It’s the one thing you fail to realize.”
“Ryleigh.” I try to stop her.
“Haven’t you realized that in all my life, I haven’t found someone like you,” she considers, forcing me to take notice. “I searched, God did I, but I never found someone who would offer me something meaningful and purposeful. I know how crazy that sounds, but I know you’ll be the only person who understands what I mean.” Her eyes twist, the light becomes dire. “And the sad truth is that you’ll be the only person to offer me that.”
I feel uncomfortable under her gaze, but I can’t move. My body and my gaze freeze upon her, unable to look away. She captivates me in so many ways that I only ever vie for her to continue dazzling me. Even after what happened that night at the fight club, I still can’t stop myself from coming back to her.
“I could kill a thousand men and never change in your eyes. You would always see me as Ryleigh, that girl who drew you in and pledged herself to dance solely with the devil. For once, I don’t care if that’s how you see me. I know no one will make me feel so alive in the most deadly of ways.” She gulps, her eyes settle on me. “Is that a cross you’re willing to bear, Dante?”
“I think it’s too late to ask me that question.” I don’t bristle; I just remain stoic. “There is so much I could teach you, Ryleigh, but not enough time, so I intend to give you these next few days and hit you hard and fast.”
She laughs, a dirty octave hitting the delightful notes of her laughter.
“What’s got you laughing?”
“Your choice of wording,” she mutters, cocking a brow before turning to face the skyline. “You’ve already hit me hard and fast.”
I chortle; my agreement is thick as I mirror her. I prop my arms on the wall of the rooftop, my hands clasped in front of me, hanging over the edge a little.
“You know,” I start to say, leaning sideways a little. “I’m not as I appear, and I hope you’ll start to notice,” I jest. Truthfully, I’ll hope I’ll build the courage to present the real me to her, just as she has bared herself to me. “I’m not about the money,” I tell her, offering another piece of me. “There’s more to me than I make people believe. Only a few know what.”
“Jackson and Jodi?” she asks knowingly. “I’m learning a few things pretty quickly.”
“Good,” I murmur in relief. “I want us to get back to that point we were before. Where you would mirror and match me, Ryleigh. When you’re like that, I feel invincible. If that means we have to be all cards laid bare, then so be it.”
She doesn’t respond; she nods but doesn’t give me a proper response.
“Ryleigh?” I ask, mustering the strength and courage I need. I decide now is my chance. “There’s something I ne-” I cut off when I see her arms wrap around her body and she shivers. “Shit,” I mutter. “Let me grab you a sweater.”
Avoidance is a marvelous fucking thing.
“No, no, what is it you wanted to say to me?” she says, disregarding her shivers. “I want to know.”
“No, it can wait,” I say, taking a step back. “Stay here and I’ll grab you a sweater.”
“Okay,” she says, sounding almost deflated. “It’s in the bag I brought with me.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, quite literally running from her.
As I rush through the door, I cuss myself! I’m a fucking cowardly cunt and this is proof. I could’ve told her that she was more to me than a challenge. She needed to know she was more than some game to me, but she presented me with an opportunity to evade, and I ran away with it.
I go inside, prepared to find her a sweater she can put on to keep her from catching a chill. I catch sight of her black duffle bag by the door, and I know that’s my best bet. I grab it by the handles and toss it onto the kitchen counter. I unzip it and force it open. At first, I start to search for the sweater, but my hands hit something hard and I grab onto it. Pulling it free of the bag, I realize it’s the file she kept well hidden from weeks ago. A part of me wants to delve into it and another wants her to bring it to me. The angel that exists within forces me to put it down, but as it hits the granite countertop, the contents spills out.
“Fuck,” I swear, forgetting about the sweater for two seconds to clean up.
However, as soon as I focus on it, I realize there’s a photo of my grandfather in there, paired with an old family photo taken a few weeks before my family perished. I look over my shoulder, checking to see if Ryleigh has followed me in, but she hasn’t, and I revert my attention to the paper folder. Opening it up, I see her family’s murder file, but directly underneath it is the Valens family crest, and my heart starts to race.
Messy handwriting narrates the theory that Ryleigh Turner is one of two sole survivors linked to the Valens murder. After discovering it’s me, her private investigator found out that I was a part of the last family attacked. The file details the theory that targets and incriminates my grandfather, but it still – twenty years later – doesn’t hold enough evidence for a conviction.
Everything I felt for Ryleigh quickly disintegrates. The barely there beat of my heart stills, reverting to a non-existent thud in the background of my hollow soul. She knew how intertwined our lives were and neglected to alert me.
I throw the file back down, sickened by it all.
I knew her family was stolen from her, but I never thought my own blood played such a vital role. Of course, I know my grandfather’s involvement in it all; it’s why I’m still such a loyal servant to him. My knowledge will get me fucking killed. Now knowing Ryleigh’s involved in the corruption that left me torn and broken, I fear the demons that haunt. Not because they’re louder, but because the woman upstairs waiting for me shares the exact same ones. But she knows and I didn’t.
And my heart stops all in one – is this a game to her?
That’s what it has to be. I have enough proof that she’s using me to get to my grandfather, that she’s come back to reap revenge and I was just a poor and pathetic pawn in all of this. She never felt a damn thing for me when she had an ulterior motive carrying her forward.
I was a perfectly placed stepping-stone in her master plan.
With that thought in mind, I turn away from the offending information and race toward the stairs. I take two at a time, skipping them hastily.
“Did you find me one?” she asks, innocently spoken as she turns to face me. She must have heard me.
I don’t move from the doorway to the roof, watching her intently through the flower garden. Her hair blows in the wind, the Brooklyn skyline twinkling behind her, making her look ever more beautiful, but the sight of her sours what little life she ignited in my heart.
“Dante?” she asks, her gaze dropping to my hands, but she notices I’m empty handed. “I definitely packed one.”
“Oh, you packed it all right,” I grouse, finding anger wrapping around my veins like venom. “But I’m going to be packing it back away.”
“Why?” she asks, her brow furrows as confusion smothers her face. The perplexity melts away, leaving space for worry and she looks alert. “What’s happened?”
I laugh, scoffing at her ignorance. “As if you don’t know...”
“I don’t know!” she says, exclaiming with her protest. “What the hell has happened, Dante?”
“When were you going to tell me you were just using me?” I ask her, finally stepping out into the rooftop, dusk setting in. “Bef
ore or after you got what you wanted?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I bellow. My voice shatters the calm between the breezes. “I’ve just seen that file you’ve kept so well hidden from me.”
Understanding befalls her face. Her cheeks flush and her lips fall open. “I can explain...”
“I don’t want you to fucking explain anything to me,” I tell her, venom viciously ravages my tone.
“Dante,” she tries, reaching out for me as she does so.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I say. The moment her fingers brushed across my skin, I felt burned. Not allowing her a second chance, I grab her by her wrist and throw her back toward the doorway. “You’re leaving.”
“It’s not what you think!” she says, tears starting to well in her eyes. “Please,” she says, not cowering to me as I leer at her. “I can explain. I really can.”
“I don’t care,” I say, my hand tightening on her tiny wrist. “You’re just like everyone else in my life!”
“I’m not!” she cries, not willing to give in.
With that, I snap.
Rage blinds me. It begins to suffocate me as if my entire chest becomes alight with the flames it’s burning with me.
"I trusted you!” I yell, releasing her so I can throw my hands into my hair with dismay. “I began to give you the rawest parts of me! The parts that no one... and I mean no one, was ever meant to see and you repay me with this." I laugh, the sound so full of anger and rage. "You were nothing but trouble from the start. Now I wish I had killed a thousand people to prove to you I could easily wrap my hands around your pretty little neck and strangle the life out of you." While disbelief rivals my rage, I do stalk forward, almost threateningly. “I promised you it once, but you blinded me! I allowed you to blindside me and I now see you were more of a devil in disguise than I ever can be!”
She shakes her head, not willing to agree, but doesn’t find the words to offer a verbal argument.
“Do you know what I hate most in this life, Ryleigh?” I ask her, indignation laces into every syllable. “I despise liars. They’re the vermin that walk the streets that only look out for number one. You, though, you’re the most despicable of them all. You’re not only a stone-faced liar, but you’re a manipulator as well. You lure people in to get what you want.”
Trigger (Pericolo #3) Page 22
