“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ryker asks Bruce in a tone so polite it contradicts the content of his question.

  “You must be talking to yourself,” I answer before Bruce has to. “Because I don’t think you are my date to the party.”

  Alright, ‘date’ might be a bit much, but that’s just how you say it!

  “Oh, my,” Robyn fills the ensuing silence. “I underestimated you, Sienna.”

  “So, they’re not here to arrest you?” Paul asks with relief.

  “No, they’re not AFT, Paul. Don’t worry,” I say and then shift my view to Ryker. “But what are you doing here? Aren’t you busy?”

  Ryker adjusts the shirt against his neck a little. “Busy, yes, very,” he answers. “I just wanted to make sure you had a way to get to the party.”

  “She does. I offered to take her,” Bruce responds with a smile, begins to walk again, and pats his brother on the shoulder. “See you at Roman’s?”

  The two of us exit through the doors and the last thing I hear is Robyn asking Ryker whether she should get dressed to make me jealous.

  It takes a bit to reach the building where the party is supposed to take place. His driver drops us off and, to my chagrin, we’re standing in front of another skyscraper.

  “13,” Bruce says when he sees me bending my neck.

  “I can make that,” I answer as we head inside.

  And we do make it all the way to the entrance of the stairwell before we discover Ryker, who is already waiting for us. He drops a pair of sneakers at my feet.

  “Put them on,” he growls, crosses his arms and avoids both mine and Bruce’s gaze. “They should be your size.”

  They are, and they’re really comfortable and pretty too.

  Which, for whatever reason, annoys me as much as it makes me happy.

  He’s nice to me, then he disappears for days, then he shows back up and does cute stuff like this?

  What an asshole.

  I hate to admit that the gesture makes me more emotional than I would like. I am not a crier. Last time it took a very sad video of a one-eyed cat for me to cry. I definitely don’t cry because of something like this, no matter how thoughtful it might be.

  So I wipe away some unrelated moisture from my eyes before anyone can see, and we continue up the stairs. It’s a lot of stairs. This building must have high ceilings, which leaves me with a lot of time to think.

  Yeah, this is bad.

  Not the high ceilings, or the stairs, but my hyperemotional mood.

  Because that’s what this is. Just some unusual mood swings, not… actual feelings. Feelings for Mr. One Date And Separate.

  When we make it to the 13th floor, all of us are a little out of breath. I leave my high heels by the door and we enter Roman’s apartment. When he spots the three of us, he comes over and gives me a hug while ignoring both his brothers. The hug only lasts a fraction of a second, but I know how hard it is for him to bring himself to do things like this. Behind me, I can hear Bruce mutter, ‘What the fuck was that?’ as Roman leads me through his living space. It’s a bit like stepping into the mind of a mad scientist who has just discovered he’s rich. There’s a telescope that’s almost as tall as me, a wall of what appears to be rare salts from around the world, and some portraits that are flipped upside down.

  I spot a few people who are dancing on a make-shift dance floor to no music at all. At least that’s what it looks like until I realize all of them are wearing headphones.

  “Silent party,” Roman explains, and hands me a pair as well. “There are a couple of channels you can choose between. I suggest the whale sound channel.”

  On the kitchen island, there are several snacks, finger foods and drinks. Soggy fries, less soggy fries, dips and an ungodly amount of sodas, beer, champagne, wine and liquors.

  “What would you like to drink?” our host asks.

  “I’ll just have a beer.”

  He points at a big bowl filled with bottles. “Regular, room temperature beer?” He points at another bowl filled with ice and beer. “Alcohol free, chilled beer?” His finger moves to the next bowl. “Room temperature beer that has been violently shaken to get rid of the carbonation? Oooor,” he points to the last bowl, “Chilled coke that has been filled into beer bottles so you can look like you’re drinking without actually drinking beer.”

  “Interesting. You really thought this through,” I say, equally impressed and confused. “But do you also have regular, chilled beer?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would anyone want to drink that?” He looks at me for a second with a sly grin and then opens the fridge. “In here.”

  Ryker is across the penthouse at the moment, putting his jacket on a hanger, but I can feel his eyes on me the entire time.

  “Oh, hey,” I say, “before I forget: your gift.” I reach into my purse and hand Roman a small box.

  “Wow, you shouldn’t have… wrapped it like this.” He looks at the result of my subpar wrapping skills. “Although I do like that you chose the obituaries as the wrapping paper. Nice touch on a day like this.”

  “Thanks, they lie around everywhere where I live,” I explain. “Go ahead, open it.”

  He doesn’t hesitate a second and tears the newspaper apart, then opens the box inside to reveal a pair of sunglasses.

  “They’re called glacier glasses,” I explain. “Some people use them to block bright light, but that’s not really the reason I got them for you. They’re mostly to protect the people around you⁠—”

  “From my mesmerizing eyes!” He tries them on and cranes his neck to look straight into a nearby light bulb. “Wow, it’s like a painkiller for my eyes. That’s such a thoughtful gift. Thank you so much, Sienna!” He takes the glasses off, hisses like a vampire and puts them back on.

  Ryker joins us, pulls a thick envelope from his inner pocket, and tosses it in Roman’s direction. “As long as we’re doing presents,” he says and grabs a beer from the fridge as well.

  Like a kid, he tears Ryker’s gift apart to reveal a pair of socks. I recognize them immediately. They’re the ones that were lying on the rocking chair by the fireplace.

  Roman laughs out loud and holds one in each hand. They’re yellow and look like a bunch of fries, with the birthday boy’s face on the sides.

  Roman is speechless and just stares at his brother.

  “It’s vicuña wool. A small, wild camelid that lives in the high Andes mountains of Peru, Bolivia, Chile, and Argentina. Softest wool money can buy.”

  Ryker’s brother rubs his face against the fabric, not saying a word.

  “Also, they’re seamless. So you don’t have to turn them inside out to avoid the scratchiness.”

  Since Roman is still wearing his glasses, I can’t tell if he’s as moved as I am. That is until he reaches around Ryker and gives him a hug as well. Judging by the wide-open eyes looking at me, Ryker is even more surprised than I am. A second later, the embrace is over again and I could swear all three of us are about to cry.

  Luckily, Bruce interrupts our little moment, and makes us drink a shot with him. Slowly, more and more people gather in the spacious penthouse and, apart from the lack of noise, it looks to be a pretty normal party. There are video games, bottles clinking, some people smoking on the balcony and others dancing to the different beats. I try to keep my distance from Ryker, but whenever my gaze wanders through the room, it’s him who I zero in on automatically. It’s like we’re back to our game from the wedding. Our eyes are going for another round. Though I am not sure if it’s still fighting that we’re doing here.

  Eventually, I find myself outside to cool off a little when a charming voice interrupts my intrusive thoughts about broad shoulders, hard abs and an even harder⁠—

  “Ah, my fair maiden,” the voice says merrily. “Did you escape your captor then?”

  I turn around and look at Ben’s perfect smile, and maybe it’s the second bottle of coke I’ve had, but an unexpectedly honest answer leaves my lips. “Actually, I’m not so sure if I even want to escape anymore.”

  He raises his eyebrows and leans against the window front that separates us from the small crowd inside, waiting for me to explain.

  “Maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome. That’s a thing, right?”

  He nods with a gentle grin. “Sure is. But I think, statistically speaking, people just regularly fall in love more often than they experience the emotional bonding with a kidnapper.”

  I grumble and peek through the window to Mr. Handsome Who Is Intently Staring At Me.

  “You already sound like him too,” Ben remarks with a laugh. “For what it’s worth. Ryker is a lot nicer than it would seem at first glance, or even second, I guess.”

  “Yeah, that does seem to be the problem,” I answer, still staring inside. My phone beeps in my purse and interrupts the current round of eye-whatever-this-is. A message by Earnest pops up.

  Good news! Robyn is in the clear. Her debt has been paid. In full. Eviction averted.

  My eyes shoot back up to the person I know immediately to be responsible for this, and for some reason, I am mad. Mad at him, mad at the situation, mad at myself. Mostly mad at him though, so I stuff my phone back into my purse and excuse myself. “Sorry, Ben. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got a captor to shout at.” I hand him my bottle of coke and go inside. When I reach Ryker, his eyes narrow as if he’s uncertain why I am fuming. For a moment I consider kissing him, then slapping him, then climbing into Roman’s fridge to cool off and get my head straight. “Did you pay off Robyn’s debt?”

  Ryker grabs my arm and leads me off the dance floor and into a less populated area. “You got a problem with that?”

  “No,” I say out loud and slap the back of my hand against his hard chest. “I’ve got a problem with you.”

  A man and a woman step out of a small closet near us. I use the opportunity and push Ryker inside the now vacant room. He opens his cocky mouth, but I shut him down immediately. “No, you don’t get to speak right now. You’re going to listen.” The door closes behind us and I push Ryker against the wall. “How dare you? How dare you do something so nice for someone you don’t even know? How dare you be so nice, and adorable, and thoughtful, and not at all what you’re supposed to be like?”

  Ryker opens his mouth once more, but I am not done yet. “You are rude, and grumpy, and heartless, and exploitative, and you fire people because you’re a terrible human being. And, also, you fuck everything that moves, only to never call them again after. Which, technically, is perfectly alright if both parties agree to it, but it still annoys me.” I give Ryker a little shove he barely notices. A millisecond later, the floor underneath us rumbles and my heart drops about twelve and a half floors. The lights flicker and I finally notice where we are. With a loud screech, the tight enclosure moves and immediately comes to a stop again.

  Fuck.

  My heart skips a beat. Then another. Then it pounds like a hydraulic sledgehammer. I reach behind me. Wall. To the left. Wall. All around me are walls and there’s no way out. I pace from here to there. But there’s walls everywhere. And they are closing in on me. I gasp for air.

  From afar, a sound breaks through. “Calm down. It’s okay,” the stupid voice says and continues with more useless phrases like, “Nothing is going to happen”.

  Suddenly, Ryker stops me from pacing. I could swear the entire floor shakes whenever he moves. He grabs my head and forces me to look at him. “Sienna de la Vega! It’s okay. You’ll be fine. Nothing is going to happen and I am not going anywhere.”

  I reach around his wrists and grip them tightly. “No shit, Sherlock. That’s exactly the problem. Neither one of us is going anywhere. Because we’re trapped! Inside! A fucking elevator! Fuck!” I try to pace away but can’t. He’s holding me tight, his stupid eyes drilling into me. My grip tightens even more. “DO SOMETHING!” I shout as a shiver travels up my spine.

  “ALRIGHT!” Ryker shouts back and pulls me closer. “THIS IS YOUR WARNING SO YOU DON’T GET SURPRISED, I AM DOING SOMETHING!”

  26

  SIENNA

  The next thing I feel are his lips on mine.

  He is kissing me.

  It’s not a forceful kiss, not the longing, I-can’t-wait-another-second-to-finally-ravish-you kiss. It’s careful and gentle and calming.

  Our bodies aren’t even touching, except for his hands that are embracing my face, and my hands that are clawing into his arms. And now our lips. He’s even softer than I remember.

  Time seems to slow down, creating a bubble of intimacy around us as the outside world fades away. My senses awaken to the intoxicating taste and scent of Ryker Please Never Stop Grayson. His body leans into mine, mine into his, seeking safety and comfort, and ultimately finding something even more profound.

  Carefully, his tongue searches for mine, and, once they meet, my burning anxiety is swept away by a warmth that I’ve never felt before, one that’s so fulfilling, the anticipation of it eventually fading already hurts.

  He pulls me in. One hand in my neck, the other on the small of my back. He leans over, making me acutely aware of how tiny I feel at this moment. I feel protected. Like nothing could ever happen to me.

  His stubble tickles my cheeks and causes me to giggle.

  “That bad, huh?” Ryker asks with a smirk on his face.

  The ground underneath us shakes gently, making me realize we had been moving once again.

  “Terrible,” I lean into his arms to kiss him once more, “but it’s alright. I’ll allow it.”

  Both his hands dig into my ass, lift me up and press me against the wall. I can feel his cock. I love how hard he is for me, because of me.

  The elevator door opens and Ryker carries me out, then pushes me up against the wall in the empty lobby and kisses my neck. The sensation of his soft lips, his rough stubble and his maddening scent make me moan louder than I probably should in public.

  He stops for a second and stares into my eyes, still pinning me against the wall with his heavy body. “Your bathroom or mine?”

  I chuckle. “Both. Both sound good.”

  “Your place first then, it’s closer.”

  With our hands interlocked, we rush to his car and have Miles take us to Haven. When he drops us off, Ryker tells him to take the rest of the night off. I add that he can take the next two days off as well and then race My Mr. Grayson to the apartment.

  The door closes with a loud thud behind us and I find myself once again staring into his dark eyes. The mood shifts instantly. We couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves during the car ride here, but now that raw sexual energy has shifted to something more profound, something more deliberate. This isn’t just our bodies doing what they can’t help doing like when we first met, this is us deciding to be here, to do this.

  Ryker is the first to close the gap between us. Using two fingers, he moves a strand of hair from my face and tugs it behind my ear. “I love your wild sex curls.”

  “Thanks,” I gasp with anticipation. “I usually just call it my hair.”

  He grins, his face moving toward mine until the tips of our noses are touching. “And I love that adorable button nose of yours.”

  My cheeks burn up at his words. “I fell on it really hard when I was like 12. Pretty sure it stopped growing afterwards.”

  “It’s perfect.” He gives me a nose kiss and lets his forehead touch mine. We breathe each other in as we slowly begin undressing. I take my time to open each button on his shirt individually, slowly revealing his heaving chest. He showers me in kisses while caressing my body, before unzipping my dress and letting it fall to the ground. When he sees me in nothing but my lingerie, a low rumble travels from his exposed chest to mine. It’s like my body picks up his frequency and matches it, ready to become one. We step out of our shoes, Ryker picks me up, then gently places me in the center of my bed.

  “I don’t usually do this,” he says and spreads my legs apart to make room for himself.

  “Do what?”

  “Fuck the same person twice.”

  “We’re not fucking,” I say and follow up by wrapping my legs around his hips to get him closer to me.

  He leans down and grunts as his cock twitches inside his pants and against me. “We really aren’t, are we?”

  I shake my head and kiss him once more. “No. If that scares you, we can still stop.”

  “Nothing about you scares me,” he whispers into my ear and gently nibbles on it, which sends shivers all the way to my toes.

  A moan escapes my lips. “How dare you insult me to my face while kissing me like this?” I unbuckle his belt and use my legs to pull down his pants. “You could at least pretend to be a little scared.”

  Ryker’s mouth smirks as it slowly travels down my neck. He stops at my collarbone, making my eyes roll back in my head. As his teeth graze my neck, he opens my bra, pulls it off and mumbles how he loves the way I feel to his touch. His trail of kisses moves further down to my tits, and I get the sudden urge to smother him. I don’t know why, but I crave to pull him against me tightly. As tight as possible. So I do.

  When I don’t stop, Ryker lifts his body back up and, since I still don’t let go, me with him. I squeeze even harder, then drop back down onto the bed.

  He takes a deep breath and looks at me with a grin. “What was that?” he asks, propped up above me.

  “Just felt like hugging you. Don’t know why.”

  With a smile, he starts playing with my breasts again. They’re more sensitive than usual for some reason, and I moan loudly when he twists them gently. “Probably because you’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time now.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I admit and observe as his mouth slowly closes around my nipple while his eyes stay zeroed in on mine.

  He is reading me, learning what makes me react, absorbing how my body works. His attention turns me on even more.

  It’s not just that he is objectively flawless on the outside, it’s also that he is incredibly loving, and compassionate, and observant.

  God damn it. I really like Ryker Fucking Grayson. Like, really like him.