my bedroom for the second time that day, I set aside the Hoover and fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
The suites provided daily room service, but I'd needed something to occupy me. While the apartment was mostly spotless, it was also so huge that it had taken me the entire day to cover it. I had never been more grateful to wash the dishes.
But now, there was nothing left for me to do.
Nothing to keep my mind from obsessing over Ryland freaking Wyatt and how I'd made a fool of myself.
Again.
Groaning, I pulled a pillow over my face. What the hell had I been thinking?
No, strike that.
I hadn't been thinking, that was the only explanation for how far I'd allowed myself to go with him.
My years of carefully erected walls, demolished just like that by a cocky asshole's smirk—and his fingers.
Even now I was growing wet just thinking about how he'd pleasured me so hard I'd nearly blacked out.
God, I was so pathetic.
I groaned again, shoving the pillow harder into my face. Maybe if I used enough strength, I could smother myself.
The one debatable silver lining was that I had gotten the last word in. Ryland's incredulous expression as I left the greenhouse had been priceless.
What, did he expect me to stay pining for him while he was free to see other women?
Jerk.
I was an idiot to think that anything was different just because of a few conversations and a kiss.
It shouldn’t even matter that he’d upped his donations. That kind of money was spare change to him anyway, a drop in an ocean of immeasurable wealth. It didn't mean anything to him, and so it wouldn't mean anything to me either.
“Are you dead?” Karin's voice floated into my bedroom.
“No.” My voice was muffled against the pillow. “But I wish I was.”
“Why?” Sounds of rummaging came from the dresser. “Did something happen with Ryland?”
I sat up so fast that the pillow tumbled off my face and onto the floor. “Why would you say that?”
“You clean the place whenever you break up, like with Brandon last year. And since the only guy you're spending time with now is Ryland…” Karin shrugged a shoulder and continued her search amongst my makeup. “Love does strange things to you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “His name was Bronn, and we broke up over two years ago. And I wasn't in love with him. Or Ryland,” I added quickly.
“But you did clean this apartment twice over,” Karin pointed out, “so you have to like Ryland at least two times as much as you liked Bronn.”
“I'll never get your logic,” I muttered.
“So, do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Like Ryland.”
“No,” I said emphatically. Then I paused. “Maybe? Oh, I don’t know!”
“Come on, spill.”
I groaned as I fell back on the bed. “The two of us are from completely different worlds. And you know I don't do hook-ups. I can't, physically and emotionally, but that's all he has to offer.”
My sister's eyes widened. “You talked about it already?”
“Yeah,” I said sullenly. “Guess how that turned out.”
Ryland Wyatt, in a relationship. Ha.
I would have better luck waiting for the Atlantic to freeze over.
“It's his loss,” Karin said, resuming her search amongst my things, “and when he sees you again in the future with someone else, he will regret not snapping you up when he could.”
“The opposite will happen first since he's the famous one,” I muttered. Then I frowned. “What are you looking for?”
“Your body mist, the lemon-flavoured one. I want to wear it to the club tonight.”
“Second drawer on the left. And I thought you hated lemons. You said it made you look more like an orange.”
“I still hate it, but it seems to be more effective than my vanilla one.” Karin located the glass bottle with a triumphant Aha!
My eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Effective in what way, exactly?”
“Seduction.”
I choked. “What?”
Karin arched an eyebrow at me. “You came home last night looking like you were mauled, and you have a hickey on your left shoulder.” She pointed a waggling finger. “It's at the back. Betcha didn't know that.”
I slapped a hand over the spot. “Nothing happened between us!”
“Uh-huh,” Karin said dryly. “Anyway, I'm hoping this will do the trick for me. My dry spell has been going on way too long.”
I totally didn't need to know that.
Karin got busy with marinating herself in lemon mist. “Hey, maybe you should come with me and the girls. You know what they say, the best way to get over a hot guy is to make out with other hot guys—”
“No one needs to get over anyone, K.”
“—and we're headed to Club Palais, so you know there'll be plenty for you to choose from.”
I blinked. “Did you say Club Palais?”
“Yeah, the one owned by—”
“—the Brazilian Heir,” I finished with a frown.
Marlon da Silva was the son of land mogul Hugo da Silva, who was to Rio de Janeiro what Thomas Wyatt Jr. was to Manhattan. That made Marlon Ryland's equal where status and power were concerned.
And how did I know that?
Because Ryland was also headed to the very same club tonight for a meeting with him.
I fiddled with the covers on the bed guiltily, already knowing what my answer would be.
“When do we leave?”
It was nearly midnight by the time our taxi pulled up to the sidewalk outside Club Palais. Thumping bass music drifted out from within, and a queue of partygoers snaked from next block all the way up to the entrance manned by four huge bouncers.
“The girls are already inside,” Karin told me as we joined the back of the queue. “They're getting beers and shots for us.”
We got admission shortly, and the pounding music grew louder as we made our way through a short, darkened hallway. By the time we got to the atrium, the bass was so loud that it reverberated in my bones and teeth. The place was filled to the beams with partiers dancing to the latest Calvin Harris hit, and I was blasted by a wave of body heat as we pushed through the crowd.
My gaze darted to the glass grand staircase that led upstairs to private rooms overlooking the club.
That must be where Ryland would be later.
“I see them!” Karin screeched, grabbing my hand and dragging me towards the crowd on the dance floor.
Her half a dozen girlfriends screamed when they saw us, and after a round of drunken hugs, a bottle of ice-cold beer was thrust into my hands.
My sister grabbed my arms, forcibly waving them in the air and spilling some beer in the process.
“Dance!” she hollered.
I looked around one more time, but I didn't spot Ryland.
Then again, I wasn't here for him.
Not at all.
Forcing a smile to my face, I took a swig of beer and tried to lose myself in the music.
***
I was in the shittiest mood.
Cam and I had spent the entire evening at the private VIP room in Club Palais with our lawyers, going through a thousand ways to counter Estelle.
And the conclusion?
Nothing.
We had nothing that would ensure a hundred percent win on our end, only advice to compromise or reach a settlement outside of court.
I didn't want to compromise.
I didn't want to reach a settlement.
I wanted that bitch behind bars, but apparently, even the top lawyers in the country had trouble making that happen.
And the fact that Allie had ditched me half-naked in a greenhouse last night didn't help my mood either.
Standing by the railings that overlooked the club, I surveyed the scene before me.
In the two years since Wyatt Corp and da Silva Realty had partnered to develop the nightclub, Club Palais had flourished under Marlon da Silva's management to become one of the most highly-raved luxe clubs in Manhattan. And as much as the Brazilian heir bugged the hell out of me, I couldn't deny that he knew what he was doing.
That, and the fact that I had free use of his VIP rooms whenever I wanted, free booze included, was the only reason why we were still allies and occasionally friends.
I took a drink from my glass, blindly watching the partying crowd.
It was just past one in the morning, which meant it was almost time for my meeting with Marlon.
It was also the worst possible time to be drinking. Going toe-to-toe with him could get damned exhausting, and I needed all my wits about me.
On the other hand, I needed the drink.
Because no matter how I tried, I couldn't get Allie Beckett’s face out of my head.
Or the throaty way she had moaned last night.
Or the feel her hot, tight pussy riding my fingers, squeezing me as she came.
I knew a sexual encounter with her would be hot, but I hadn't expected to come so close to creaming my pants like a teenage boy.
Case in point, my cock was already growing hard.
Thank fuck it was dark in the club.
“That your fifth glass?” Cam suddenly asked beside me.
I frowned. “Third. Why?”
“Because you look like shit.” He tossed back his drink.
I raised my eyes to the ceiling.
People who knew us both sometimes said that Cam and I shared similar traits, and that was bullshit. I didn't have the temperament of a hungry polar bear, and I didn't feel the constant need to piss on everything to mark my territory.
But Cam had proven to be a stand-up guy and loyal friend over the years, and any disagreements we had were usually smoothed over without issue on both sides.
Keyword: usually.
“Any updates on the favor I asked from you?”
“You ask a hell lot of favors from me.” Cam handed his empty glass to a passing waiter. “But if you mean pressing Finnigan for payment last night, then yeah, it went like you predicted. Poor bastard was ready to piss his pants by the time I was through with him.”
“And?”
“And so you should get that contract ready.” Cam shrugged his massive shoulders. “It's not every day a Lancaster threatens you with a multi-million dollar debt. I’m guessing that he'll receive your purchase offer on his knees, with both hands, like it's a royal decree.”
I nodded in satisfaction and tipped my glass in thanks. “Owe you one.”
“And I'll be cashing in real soon.” Cam grinned. “Don't worry, it's nothing you can't handle.”
“You have your eye on a property for a new hotel,” I said dryly. “It's not that hard to figure, asshole, you've got a one-track mind.”
“At least one of us does. How's it going with your new PA?”
“You mean the one you were supposed to pick up but pushed to Gabriel instead?”
“Something cropped up. And come on, have some trust in Gabe.”
“The only thing I trust him to do is hit on her,” I said curtly.
“Gabriel hits on anything with two legs and a pussy. It's not personal.”
Then Cam gave an exaggerated frown. “Why are you taking this so personal anyway? And from what I recall, all you did last night was stare at Alecia like a dumbass when you should have been networking. Then the two of you disappeared for the rest of the night.”
I levelled a direct look at him. “Get to the point. What are you trying to say?”
“Is there something going on that we should know about? AKA, are you fucking her?”
“Allie left early during the party,” I lied smoothly, “and I was giving you space to work on Finnigan.”
Cam smirked at me. “Even after all these years, I can't tell when you're lying. But this time, I have a verbal statement from my housekeeper that you came to my residences last night, asking to loan a shirt.”
My jaw ticked.
“What would you need a shirt for?” he cocked his head. “Unless the one you were wearing had something happen to it.”
“Piss off,” I muttered into my drink.
“Be careful with her, Ryland,” Cam said casually. “She could screw us over if she wanted.”
“She could, but she won't.”
“You can’t be sure. Look what happened with Valentine.”
“Allie's loyal to a fault. And she's innately good, which can’t be said for either of us.”
I took another swallow, bracing myself for what I was about to tell Cam next. “Speaking of which, this shit with Estelle isn't going anywhere, so I'm considering another option.”
“Am I gonna like it?”
“Nope.”
“What is it?” Cam frowned.
Then his face twisted in pure fury when he caught my meaning. “No. Fuck, no.”
“From Estelle's reaction during our meeting, I'm eighty-percent sure that Theo isn't working with her.”
“But he did back then.” Cam looked at me incredulously. “The hell is wrong with you, man? Did you forget how he screwed us over?”
“No, but at this point I'm willing to pay even him if that means taking Estelle out. That bitch isn't getting shit from me.”
“Or me, but there's gotta be a better way than teaming up with that lying sonofabitch!”
Feeling weary all of a sudden, I tipped my head back and drained my glass in a single swallow. “Let me know if you have other ideas. Because at this point, we've got jack.”
“This is bullshit.” Cam shoved off from the railing angrily.
“Is that a yes to go ahead and contact Theo?”
“No,” he snarled.
“I'm gonna do it anyway, you know that right?”
“Fuck you, Wyatt. Seriously, Fuck. You.”
Cam turned and stomped away, toppling one of the guys he shoved past.
I squeezed the bridge of my nose.
This was bullshit, but hell if I could see another way out of this.
Estelle's plan was laughingly simple, and yet it was watertight from every angle. The only person she would possibly let close was Theo.
The question now was, would he work with us, and if so, could we trust him?
Probably not, to both.
I exhaled harshly. I rarely allowed myself to get backed into a corner, but now here I was, between a rock and a damned hard place.
Not to mention the unexpected distraction that was Allie.
“Have a nice weekend,” she'd said. “I know I will.”
Irritably, I wondered what she was up to now. Probably reading a book in bed, or watching some Netflix.
I found myself wanting to join her.
As if on cue, I heard her voice in my head again—a loud laugh this time.
Shit, I really was going crazy.
Then I stilled.
I’d never heard her laugh this way before.
Glowering, I spun around to search the dance floor for a skinny, stubborn brunette who seemed hell-bent on driving me to my limits.
My gaze sharpened when I spotted Allie’s face in the crowd, dancing near the DJ booth.
Her head was thrown back with a wide smile, and she looked smoking hot in that tiny scrap of a dress. And she was…
Grinding on a guy?
And was that his hands on her ass?
I stared in disbelief. What. The. Fuck.
I made my way down the stairs and was in front of her in thirty seconds flat.
Allie gasped when she saw me. “Ryland?”
“Don't act so surprised, you knew I was going to be here. And you,” I snarled at the prick who was subtly backing off with his hands in the air. “If you lay a hand on her again, trust me, I'll make you wish you didn't have hands.”
“I didn't know she had a boyfriend,” he protested.
“Now you know,” I snapped at the same time Allie burst, “I don't!”
But it didn't matter, the guy had already disappeared.
“Come,” I clipped, taking her hand.
“No!” She yanked it back. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Yeah? Well, I have plenty to say to you, and you're going to listen. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Choose.”
Allie glared at me, her chin setting stubbornly.
I scowled right back. “Five. Four—”
“At least let me tell the girls first,” she snapped. “They'll be worried.”
“Fine.” I was only slightly mollified that she wasn't that senseless as to come alone.
I watched as Allie headed over to where Karin was dancing with a guy and generally doing a crap job of looking out for her sister. They exchanged a few words, and as Allie made her way back to me, Karin gave a thumbs-up that only I could see.
The fuck?
I grasped Allie's hand the moment she came back to me, striding away from the dance floor as she stumbled to keep up behind me.