A fucking orgasm or two so I can focus on other things again.

  I shake my head. “Maybe a whiteboard?”

  Barbara nods slowly. “Sure, not a problem. Up here every office is occupied, but I think we have some room down on 42.”

  “Have them put it right there.” Ryker nods at the corner in his giant office that houses a mini-golf course.

  “Or I could set her up in the conference room if that’s prefera⁠—.”

  A single glance from Ryker cuts her off immediately, then he nods at the corner again. Barbara understands right away and disappears from his office. Or I guess our office, because it would appear we’re office buddies now. Which is great. That certainly takes care of my plan of silently slaving away without being seen or heard until I’ve made enough money to pay for Robyn’s debt and our emergency fund.

  Ryker’s eyes finally let go of me when the phone rings. To my surprise, I am almost a little sad. Which doesn’t make any fucking sense. I mean, he is right there. He’ll look at me again, but for some reason I enjoy being the center of his attention. Naturally, I hate it just as much. Which is perfectly normal. All of those are perfectly normal emotions to have, I tell myself.

  He answers the phone without a word. I can hear a muffled voice on the other side, but I can’t decipher what they’re saying. Without uttering a word, Ryker hangs up. Then he gets to his feet, straightens his shoulders and adjusts his tie. “Let’s go,” he says and walks out of the office.

  I follow right behind. “Where are we going?”

  “Out.”

  “But I just got here.”

  “So?”

  We walk down a hallway and stop right in front of the elevator. I sigh and consider my options. What is he going to do when he finds out I don’t like elevators? Lock me in one? Maybe.

  Then again, that might be good, actually, because I could sue him and save all of Haven with the settlement money. The doors open and Ryker steps inside, then holds them for me.

  His questioning expression makes him look almost harmless. “Coming?” he asks.

  “Ugh, sorry, but I can’t. If you must know, I am scared of elevators,” I admit and scratch my head in embarrassment. “You can go ahead. I’ll be there in about 45-60 minutes.”

  Ryker processes my words for a moment, then, without a snide comment, exits the death trap. He opens a door to his left and waits for me to come. “Alright,” he says, “let’s literally go then.”

  “Down the stairs?” I ask like some kind of moron.

  “I will check to see if it’s feasible to have a slide installed. Maybe Paul was onto something with that idea, but until then, yes, I guess we’re taking the stairs.”

  “Cocky doesn’t suit you,” I lie and squeeze myself through the frame of the door, which is largely occupied by Ryker’s broad body. Of course, he doesn’t even try to give me enough space. I catch a whiff of his scent. Today it’s the same one that already drove me crazy when we first met, and I know it could cause similarly bad decisions right now. Trying to get rid of it, I exhale deeply and start jogging.

  It takes about 13 floors for Ryker to catch up. I can already feel my legs get heavier and heavier and I am not sure if walking down is actually easier than up. When we reach floor 42, I am pretty sure someone spots Ryker coming and quickly vanishes back into the office.

  I inquire why he chose to walk with me when he could have just taken the elevator, but all he answers is that cardio is good for you. By floor 24, my legs are jiggling jelly. We rest for a minute or two before going on. Ryker notices that I am slowing down and does so as well, which I appreciate. This way at least I get to stare at his butt while mine is already thinking about where to buy steroids for the upcoming days.

  Finally, we make it to the ground floor, which has me moaning with pain and delight in equal measures.

  Ryker huffs in response. “Three more to go,” he scoffs and points towards the parking garage.

  I groan, throw my head back in desperation and miss the second to last step. Ryker’s back doesn’t exactly cushion my fall as much as it makes for a great object to hang onto. Which is what I do when I slam into him. I hold tight for dear life.

  Ryker barely moves, instinctively reaches back, puts his hands under my butt and lifts me fully onto himself. “Look, I am still not calling you fat, but you have to stop falling like this.” His eyes peek at where my head is resting on his shoulder. Involuntarily, I inhale every last bit of him. Because I am exhausted and in need of air, not because I want to smell him. I smile from all the pain in my legs.

  Okay, fine. Maybe I do want to smell him a little. It’s not my fault he is the best scented human alive.

  I’ve also come to terms with the fact that his hands are not at all dainty. They’re strong and strapping, pulling me tight, making sure I can’t move away from him even if I wanted to.

  Which is fine. All of it. I just have to heed his advice: I can not keep falling like this.

  22

  RYKER

  “Oh,” Sienna says when we finally make it to where my car is parked, “already there. That was quick. You know this is great training for when you’re going to carry me all the way to Cloud 9.”

  “The fancy restaurant on top of the highest skyscraper in town?” I ask.

  “That’s the one. Always wanted to go. If it wasn’t for the actual going part, of course.”

  When she slides off my back, she is still shaky on her feet, so I open the passenger door and help her inside.

  “And here I thought I was in the best shape of my life,” Sienna groans and massages her thighs.

  “I guess having a nice ass does not make one a professional stair athlete.” The words escape my mouth before my brain can catch them. “Stairmaster? Is there a term for someone who walks stairs semi-professionally?” I try to distract her with more nonsensical chatter.

  Fuck me.

  It’s hard to stay focused with her around.

  Before she can answer, I shut the door and circle the car until I notice her expression. I can’t tell whether she is angry or amused or both. For a moment, I worry about how she is going to respond, but when I take my seat, I am met with silence. Her lips are pursed. She’s looking at me, but apparently, she’s not sure how to respond either.

  “Where are you taking me then?” Sienna finally asks when I steer my grandpa’s old-timer onto the road.

  “You haven’t eaten yet.”

  “That’s okay, I am not hungry.”

  “Alright, you can just watch me eat then.”

  When we get to Cereal Killers, my favorite place for breakfast in the city, Sienna sits across from me and makes a point of letting me know that she might be hungry now, but that the view is ‘sort of ruining her appetite’.

  Considering the fact that I find her staring at me somewhat frequently, I doubt the validity of her statement. Unable to keep myself from reciprocating her glances, we spend most of breakfast imagining feasting on something other than the intricate bowls of cereal we are served. At least that’s what I do. I don’t know what Sienna is thinking.

  Even now, almost two hours later, I can still feel her weight on me. Her boobs squeezing against my back, her hair tickling my ear and her warm breath causing the hair on the nape of my neck to stand at attention. The more I am looking at her, the more I crave to be near her, to touch her, to feel the warmth of her presence enveloping my every being. If I had to, I might even consider carrying her all the way to Cloud 9 for it.

  When I lean back, I notice other things are standing at attention as well. Which makes me believe what I really need is some medical attention. How is it possible to be turned on 24/7 just by looking at someone? Sometimes all it takes is a mere fleeting thought. This morning, I got aroused by thinking about Sienna sleeping in the same house as me. It’s like I’ve found the secret to eternal youth. The only issue is that being a perpetually horny 16-year-old is the worst part of the whole eternal youth deal. Especially when you can’t act on it.

  “How did you know that this is my favorite breakfast place?” she asks once she has finished her bowl. “I love their⁠—”

  “Brad, can we have two wafflesaurus, please?” I shout into the back where the owner is usually lounging and watching his shows.

  “How did you know I love their wafflesaurus?” Sienna’s eyes narrow with suspicion and I think my plan of forcing her to have a good time with me might actually be working.

  She doesn’t know what to make of all this. Although, frankly, neither do I. It is a coincidence that we both love eating here, but then again, this is one of the most popular hidden spots in town and whoever knows about it, also knows about their waffles that come in different dinosaur shapes. And who wouldn’t love that?

  I don’t answer her question. Instead, I make her tell me about how she’d approach revamping my public image. She begins rambling and goes on a long rant about crisis management, strategic partnerships, branding and messaging, and how it is possible I don’t have an entire team doing this already. It’s captivating how professional and serious she can get in an instant. I honestly don’t care about the content, because I couldn’t care less about what other people think of me, but I could listen to her for hours. I guess I do because it’s almost afternoon when we finally leave Cereal Killers. We walk back to my car and I take us to another place that I worry might be a little too familiar for Sienna, which could ruin the surprise. So I decide to park two blocks down from our destination and to walk the rest. When we get to the building, Sienna is limping ever so slightly. She looks at me with a glassy stare when we are standing in front of the stairs that we have to climb.

  “What floor and why? Is it worth it? Can’t we just⁠—”

  “Come on.” I turn around and kneel. “It’s either this or the elevator,” I say when she doesn’t hop on my back.

  A moment later, I can feel her familiar shape against me again. It’s… nice. I try not to touch her inappropriately, but there’s no way around some contact. She does have a fantastic ass.

  “What’s the deal with you and elevators, anyway?” I ask as we make it to the fourth floor.

  “No deal. Just not too fond of them. Every year, up to 30 people die in those metal prisons.”

  “Cars kill a lot more, but you don’t seem to have an issue with those metal prisons.”

  We make it to the fifth floor where I had Barb book an Airbnb for the day. I punch the code into the lock and enter. The rose petals on the floor and bed make the apartment look a little more romantic than it did in the pictures, which causes Sienna to walk right out again.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Back when I said you’d have to pay full price from now on, I didn’t mean an actual salary. I will not fuck you on my very first day at work.”

  Right. I can see how she would be confused by this.

  “Hold on, let me explain,” I try to stop her by the stairs. When she doesn’t let me, I —without giving it a second thought— throw her over my shoulder and carry her back inside. “It’s not what it looks like,” I assure her.

  She doesn’t fight back. Instead, she waits for me to put her down to her feet. It is then that she lands a jab right to my stomach. I am unprepared and hunch over with slight discomfort.

  “No one ever taught you that you can’t just abduct people without asking?”

  I take a deep breath and use my hands to prop myself up on my knees. “I really wish you’d use pillows instead of your fists from now on.”

  Sienna doesn’t hesitate for a second. She steps over to the bed, grabs a pillow and starts whacking my head. “Happy to,” she says and swings once more.

  Not wanting to lose a second round of Pillow Fight Club, I reach around her and press her against my chest. She’s facing the same direction as me, so trying to hit me with a pillow is a rather clumsy endeavor.

  “Please stop and hear me out,” I say, and wait for her to calm down. “I assure you, I didn’t bring you here to have sex, and I am under no impression that you would have sex with me on your first day of work. That’s more of a third-or fourth-day activity,” I joke, which elicits a grumble and more pillow fire from my captive. When she stops, I carry her to a window and put her down.

  Sienna gasps when she discovers what I brought her here for. “No way,” she whispers. “Is it Monday?”

  “It is.”

  “Is it almost showtime?” she asks, pressing her nose against the glass.

  I get two chairs and place them in front of the window, then gently guide Sienna to her seat. Her eyes are fixed on the office across the street. The clock says we have a few more minutes. Barb did a thorough job, as always. We have popcorn, nachos and two pairs of binoculars.

  “I am sorry I hit you,” Sienna says eventually while reaching for the popcorn. “I promise not to do it again if you promise not to spring any more surprises on me.”

  “Sure, I promise to communicate any future surprises well in advance. I wouldn’t want you to get excited about⁠—”

  She shushes me when a row of skimpily dressed women enters her former boss’s office. I pull out my phone and play some Joe Cocker.

  “I am so happy right now,” Sienna gushes and reaches for my hand, then looks at me with wide eyes and an even wider grin. Then she goes back to observing the show through her binoculars. “This is better than anything they have at Holes & Poles and The Pearl Necklace combined.”

  I am not interested in the women getting undressed across the street, but I can’t pry my eyes off the fully dressed woman sitting next to me. She whistles at a girl who, according to her, has ‘a fantastic wiggle wiggle’, she lets out an excited wohooo-sound when another performer does a split on top of two other girls, and she gives a standing ovation once the show is wrapped up almost three hours later.

  “That was worth every last cent of your money,” Sienna says with glee.

  It’s getting dark outside, but her smile is lighting up the room.

  “Luckily, I have some more lying around,” I respond. “But I am glad you liked it. I was kind of hoping for him to get fired right then and there to be honest.”

  “Liked it? I loved it. Almost makes me reconsider my stance on sleeping with my boss on the first day of work.”

  “So you’re finally admitting that I am your boss and not just a client?”

  Sienna shakes her head and expels a quick breath. “I am glad that’s what you took from that. Anyway, thank you for an entertaining first day. I do wonder how long it will take for word to travel and for Pete to get into trouble.” She looks around the room. “I also wonder how you set all of this up on such short notice.”

  We stay behind for a little longer, chat, eat more popcorn, and eventually, very slowly, make our way out and down the stairs.

  “To answer your earlier question about how I pulled all of this off: money. You must be unfamiliar with the concept,” I explain.

  “Must be nice,” Sienna answers and I can tell how she disappears in her thoughts.

  “So, if you won’t tell me about you and the elevators, will you at least tell me why you finally caved and ended up accepting my offer to come and work for me?”

  “With you,” she corrects. “It’s because of Robyn. Who you’ve met. She lives in Haven with Paige, Guy, Earnest and me. A couple of months ago, she wasn’t able to pay rent anymore. She had some health issues, medical bills, a bit of bad luck, you know how it is… well, you probably don’t, but you might have seen it in the movies.” Sienna unconsciously interlocks her arm with mine as we walk out of the doors and down the street.

  I can feel myself blushing.

  “Anyway, the owner of our building has been trying to evict a bunch of residents for some time now, so one unfortunate event led to another, and here we are. The guys and me have been pitching in so she could make the minimum payment each month, but she got the eviction notice nonetheless. And now with myself unemployed, which in hindsight was kind of reckless of me…”

  “I see.”

  “Yeah, plus she was too proud, tried to take care of it herself for the longest time. We only found out when it was too late already. We tried getting legal counsel. We also tried… some other things… but the only way to help her, it seems, is to pay off her debt.”

  “Hmm,” I grumble and scratch my head when I open the car door for Sienna. She really does seem to care about those adorable little weirdos living with her.

  “So your offer came at the right time,” she buckles in, “but let’s talk about something more positive. Like: what would your stripper name be?”

  “Sienna de la Vega, obviously.” I close the door with a smirk and get in the driver’s seat.

  We both check our phones before driving off. There are a few calls from Barb as usual, and a text from her as well.

  They posted again.

  She includes a link to a post from Ryker Rumors, an account dedicated to curating all things Ryker Grayson. They have been around for some time, and, while always being weird, they never posted outright negative content. Until somewhat recently. Recently, their opinions seem to have taken a turn for the worse, which barely ever goes unnoticed by the tabloids and the rest of the rumor machine that pick up the stories, which then gains traction on social media, which is then noticed by my board.

  We tried taking them down once before, but apparently, since I am a person of public interest, they can post pretty much whatever they want. I resisted more drastic legal steps until now since it would likely cause more harm than good.

  The post is about me and another affair. An affair I know nothing about. I haven’t dated anyone more than once in years. Not since Mira. It also includes a picture of me in swimming trunks.

  I zoom in a little.

  “Usually people look at other people’s nudes and not their own,” Sienna says and leans over to get a better look.

  “Not a nude, and also, what would make you think this is a picture of me?”

  Sienna cocks her head and refuses to answer. “Seriously, what are you looking at?”