Selfish

by Shantel Tessier

  “Okay, everything is put in your room,” Ryder says, coming up to me.

  “Thank you,” I say although I shouldn’t have let him do it.

  He waves off my appreciation as he looks around the apartment. “Where are Becca and Jaycent?” he wonders aloud.

  “I don’t know,” I say turning back to look out the window. I stiffen when I feel his hand on my shoulder.

  He notices it and turns me around. “Hey, you okay?” He reaches up and places his hand on my face. I want to pull away but find myself leaning into it.

  I nod. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

  He smiles softly. “You need to get some rest. You have an interview tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Somehow, I had forgotten that until just now.

  He pulls away from my face and grabs my hand. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”

  I allow him to lead me out of the living room and down a short hallway. He opens the door to the right, and I gasp at what I see. “This is your room,” he says, clearly unaffected by what I see. “I put your bags in your closet.” He points over at the door to the left.

  I take a step into the bedroom, as I look around dazed. A four-post bed sits up against the far wall. To the right, where a wall should be, is nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows. Lights from the surrounding buildings light up my room just as they did the living room.

  “There are so many windows,” I say more to myself than anyone else.

  Ryder comes to stand beside me. “You don’t like them?”

  “The city is beautiful; of course, I like them.”

  He chuckles as he goes over to the far wall. “Well, just in case. I can fix that.” He presses a button, and a soft humming sound fills the room. I look up and see a set of dark gray curtains move from side to side as they meet in the middle, covering us in darkness. Ryder then flips a light switch, lighting up the room.

  “That better?”

  I turn to face him. “Thanks,” I say, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. I nervously push some loose blond hairs behind my ear. “Thanks again for the help,” I tell him.

  He leans up against the wall and places his arms over his chest. His muscles in his upper arms stretch his already tight white button up shirt, and I can’t help but look at the way his black slacks hang low on his narrow hips. A black belt holds them up, and I feel a blush creep up when I realize it’s the one from Florida. “Are you okay?” he asks, his green eyes searching mine.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, swallowing nervously.

  He pushes off the wall and walks to me slowly as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction to him. I want to fan myself but refrain; I don’t want to look like an idiot.

  He stops in front of me and looks down at me. He leans down, and I hold my breath thinking that he’s gonna kiss me again. If he kisses me like he did at the airport, I’m fucked. I’ll throw him down onto this perfectly made bed and rip all the sheets off of it to have my way with him.

  Instead, he leans down and kisses me softly on my forehead. “Get some sleep, Ashlyn. You have a busy day tomorrow,” he whispers and then he walks out of my bedroom without looking back.

  ***

  After I called my mother and listened to her cry about how much she missed me already, I thought about going to bed. But even though I was tired as shit, I stayed up all night on my laptop Googling Ryder. I’m not sure why I did it, but it was bothering me. Him all of a sudden so close. So affectionate. I wanted to know who I was dealing with. A player? A manwhore?

  What I found was worse than that. I saw pictures of him at events his company throws. Pictures of him doing charity work at shelters. Pictures of him in front of construction sites where I’m guessing his dad’s company had bought property and was either tearing a building down or about to build a new one. In every one, he was smiling and always without a beautiful woman on his side. And I hate that fact. At least if he was a player, I would know how to handle that. But it seems that his job takes up his entire life. I thought he was exaggerating when we were up late talking in Panama City about him traveling the world.

  Now, I’m not sure how to handle myself around him. It’s like, within a second, he became this billionaire sex God and he can’t keep his hands off me. I’m afraid that I’m not gonna be able to keep mine off him and that is a big problem.

  I decide to look up their parents. I’ve known Becca for four years, and we’ve lived together for three of those. But we didn’t have a high-rise apartment. We shared a tiny apartment on campus. I knew she was rich but only because of Conner. That little bitch would throw her last name around all the time to try to get his way, even though it rarely worked. Some looked at him like he was making it up, and others looked at him like he was drunk. Bradley and I had gone out to eat with them one night; our waiter sucked, and our food was cold when we finally got it. He stood and threw his plate to the ground, yelling out and I quote, he was there with the Becca O’Kane. I rolled my eyes while Becca silently cried in embarrassment. What did he expect? For them to kiss his shoes cause his girlfriend’s father was a billionaire? I really think that’s the only reason he was ever with her, but I’ll never tell her that.

  I’ve never asked Becca about her family’s finances. I know she and Ryder both have trust funds from their late grandfather, but they both still work. I decided to look up their father’s net worth and found he is five hundred on the Forbes list. I’m not surprised by that either. They’re billionaires, after all. And when I say billionaires, I mean worth a little over three billion, to be exact. My parents are not poor. They do pretty well for themselves, but they’re nowhere near as well off as her parents are.

  I place my hand over my mouth to cover up my yawn. I’m so tired after staying up all night. I lie in my new bed as I stare up at the ceiling, thinking over what I learned throughout the night. My eyes are heavy, my mind still turns over what I learned, and it makes my stomach turn. I had opened my curtains after Ryder left last night ‘cause I wanted to see the city that I’ve always longed to experience. Now, the sun shines in through the windows.

  I sit straight up when I hear someone in the kitchen. I jump out of bed and make my way through the massive apartment, just looking at places for me to dirty it up with my laundry and other crap. I find Becca in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand.

  She looks up at me and yawns. “Excuse me?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about our apartment?”

  She sighs heavily. “I didn’t want to scare you off, and you leave,” she answers quietly. “I’m sorry; I should have told you.”

  I run a hand through my hair as I look around the place that I’m going to call home for the next few months. It’s the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen, yet it makes me sick to my stomach. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “I can’t afford this, Becca.” I sigh.

  “You don’t have to pay for anything,” she assures me.

  “So what?” I raise my arms out to the side. “I freeload off you? I’m not like that, Becca.”

  She places her coffee cup on the counter and smiles softly. “I know you’re not, Ashlyn and that’s why I wanted you to live here with me.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Her shoulders slump. “He just called me one day last month and said he bought me an apartment.” She tells me the same thing that Ryder told me last night. “I couldn’t tell him no. And he wouldn’t have let me anyway. I didn’t wanna live here alone, so I asked about having a roomate. He said as long as it wasn’t a guy that was fine. I knew I wanted you to be here with me. You’re my best friend, Ashlyn.”

  “Why would he spend so much money on an apartment that you wouldn’t want?” Sounds like a waste of money to me.

  “That’s how my dad works. Ryder has an apartment here, and I knew he would want me near him.” She shrugs.

  I had somehow forgotten that Ryder also lives here, bu
t it makes me smile. No! I must stay away from him. “So your dad bought your brother an apartment here, and he wanted you to live next to him?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Ryder bought his own apartment two years ago. But yes, I guess that’s why my father wanted me at this location.”

  “And what are the odds that one just became available the same time that you were graduating college?”

  She laughs. “The odds are non-existent. No one sells once they have an apartment here at the Q’s. Even when they pass away, their apartment goes to their next of kin.” These apartments go anywhere from one million to twelve million dollars. I also looked that up last night. I’m just full of information now.

  “So what? He paid someone to make them move?” With three billion dollars, I’m sure you can get whatever you want.

  “No.” Her eyes fall to the counter and then she looks over at the formal dining room area.

  “What is it?” I ask, taking a step toward her.

  “The building … my father owns the building, Ashlyn,” she says softly.

  “Oh.” Should have seen that one coming. When I was digging around on the web last night, I saw where he owns pretty much half of Manhattan.

  “I’m sorry I never told you, but I knew you’d hate living here with me and find another apartment before I could explain myself.”

  I sigh. “And you would have been correct.” I spread my arms out wide, gesturing to the apartment. “What am I supposed to do about this?”

  She gives me a soft smile. “It will be fine. I promise. You don’t need to worry about money. Or paying any bills. I have them covered.”

  “I don’t understand what that means exactly. I’m not going to live somewhere for free, Becca. When you told me you had a place and wanted me to move in with you, you told me that my cost was going to be five hundred a month.”

  She bites her bottom lip as her green eyes dart around the room. “What?” I growl.

  “That was a lie too,” she whispers.

  “Of course, it was,” I snap. “Because five hundred dollars won’t pay for anything in this place.”

  “It’s free for us. My father is taking care of it.”

  I’m not one to live above my means. I wanted to move to New York more than anything after graduation, and I was fully prepared to live in a small ass apartment. But this? An apartment that was bigger than my childhood home …? “I don’t know …”

  “Please,” she begs as she comes around the kitchen. “Please, stay here with me, Ashlyn. Conner is gone. I’ve been gone for four years and haven’t kept in touch with any of my friends from here because Conner didn’t like any of them. And honestly, they were never friends to begin with. Please tell me that you will stay here with me.” She drops her eyes to the floor. “Because I’m not ready to be alone.”

  I let out a sigh as I run a hand down my face. I’m not a freeloader. I believe in paying my part, but I do have some money saved up. I have twenty five thousand dollars to be exact. Selling my car helped with that. I won’t leave her, and she knows that. I just wish she had told me what I was walking into. “I’ll stay,” I say reluctantly. She looks up at me and smiles. “On one condition,” I add.

  “Name it,”

  “No more secrets.”

  “Deal.”

  I sit down on the barstool in the kitchen and place my head in my hands. “What does your father like?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I lift my head and drop my hand. “Alcohol. What kind of alcohol does he like?”

  “Scotch. But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “I wanna buy him a bottle for letting me move in here with you.” It’s the least I can do for him giving me a place to stay. Not to mention it’s better than anything I’ve ever seen before.

  “You don’t wanna do that,” she says slowly.

  I frown. “Why not?”

  “It’s like forty thousand dollars.”

  My eyes bug out, and my mouth falls open. “For scotch?” Where the hell does he get his scotch, for Christ’s sake?

  She smiles softly and speaks. “I’m sorry. It’s a fifty-year-old scotch. His taste is very expensive in all areas.”

  “I’m starting to see that,” I mumble to myself.

  She reaches across the counter and grabs my hand. “You don’t need to get him anything, honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

  I’m not the kind of person who lets others give me things without returning the favor. I squeeze her hand back before I release it, get up, and walk back to my room. I’m on a mission.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  RYDER

  I sit behind my desk and pull my phone out of the pocket of my slacks. I send a quick text to Ashlyn.

  Me: How did you sleep last night?

  She reads it and responds almost instantly.

  Ashlyn: I didn’t.

  I go to text her again, but my door opens. My father walks in, running a hand through his hair. “I just got a call from St. Claire. He just got word that Westcott is looking for a buyer for his hotel in Miami.”

  My brows rise. “Why would St. Claire inform us? He’s competition.” St. Claire and my father go way back. They went to college together, and just like my father owns half of Manhattan, St. Claire owns half of Chicago.

  He shakes his head as if confused by the information as well. “Not sure. But I’m sending you to Florida.”

  “When?” I ask.

  “In two weeks,” he states and then starts to walk out.

  “Why not today?” I ask confused. “If Westcott is looking for a buyer, we need to hit before others find out.”

  “No. We wait for it. Let him decide that he is a hundred percent sure he wants to sell. If we move now, others will find out that we gave him an offer. If what St. Claire said is true, he’s not a hundred percent yet. We need to hit when he’s desperate, not just considering it.”

  I nod in understanding. “Okay. Two weeks it is then.”

  “Did you pick up your sister and Ashlyn last night?” he asks, changing the subject.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did Becca like the apartment?”

  “Loved it,” I lie. I know that’s not my sister’s idea of an apartment. She hates high-rises. She also hates the fact that my father spent one point two million dollars on a place for her. And not to mention how Ashlyn reacted.

  “Good. I’m glad you’re close to her in case they need anything,” he says.

  He goes to speak, but my phone dings, letting me know I have another message. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he states before turning around and walking out.

  I look down at my phone with a smile, thinking it is Ashlyn, but frown when I see it’s not.

  Vicki: Hey, babe. Haven’t heard from you since your birthday. How about we do dinner this weekend?

  I sigh as I sit down in my chair. I type back a short but to the point response.

  Me: Can’t, have plans.

  She texts me back, but I don’t even bother to take the time to read it. It’s just gonna be a message with her picking another date. And no matter when it is, I know I’m busy. She needs to get the hint. If a man doesn’t message you, he doesn’t want to be with you.

  Instead, I lean over and pick up my phone on my desk and dial a familiar number. A voice that I’ve known all of my life answers. I smile at her voice and lean back in my chair. “Hey, beautiful. It’s been a long time.”

  Laughter follows. “Ryder. What are you doing?”

  “How did you know it was me?” I ask in surprise.

  “I would know that voice anywhere. What can I do for you?”

  I smile. “Funny you should ask …”

  ASHLYN

  I place my phone in my purse as I come up to the smaller brick building. It just so happens that our apartment building is only three blocks from Talia’s Gallery.

  I open the glass doors and smile as I look around the building. Bright white walls with black pil
lars support the structure. A winding staircase is to the right. A desk is to the left, and I walk over to it. A man with blond hair that is slicked to the left looks up and sees me.

  “Hello, ma’am.” He smiles as he folds his hands on the desk. “How may I help you?” he asks sweetly.

  “Hello. My name is Ashlyn Whitaker. I have a ten o’clock meeting with Lauren.”

  “Oh, yes.” His face lights up even more. “Ms. Whitaker. Please, have a seat”—he gestures to a bright red leather couch—“and I will notify her that you have arrived.”

  “Thank you.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, placing my purse on my lap. I grip it tightly and notice that my hands are sweaty. I rub them on my black pencil skirt, hoping that it helps. I’d hate to shake her hand and have mine feel sweaty.

  “Can I get you any coffee or a water?” the man behind the desk asks me. “Maybe a cappuccino?”

  “No. Thank you. I’m fine,” I assure him.

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. She will be down momentarily.”

  I start to dig into my purse as I hear my phone going off. I see Bradley is calling me. I ignore the call and send him a quick text.

  Me: Can’t talk right now. At my interview. Will call you afterward.

  I place my phone on silent and then throw it into my purse.

  “Ms. Whitaker.”

  I look up to see a woman walking down the winding staircase. She has her dark red hair up in a tight bun. She has on a black dress that reaches her knees and a pair of black and white bowtie heels that I would love to have.

  She reaches the last step, and I stand. “Hello, Mrs. Mills,” I say, meeting her halfway and reaching out my hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

  She nods her head. “Absolutely,” she says, smiling warmly. She places her hand in mine and then looks at the guy at the front desk. “Thomas. Please hold my calls.”

  He nods, and then she gestures to the stairs. “Please. Let’s take this to my office.”