Chapter Thirteen

Riley

What was Lena thinking?

I throw my helmet to the ground before walking up the marble stairs to the front door. I push them open and walk down the hall in long strides. My pounding footsteps bounce off the glass walls.

I couldn't believe it was her at first, not when I spotted her from across the street as I was about to enter my friend's bar. I didn't want to. But then I never did forget how she looks. There was no way I could mistake that lustrous brown hair, that face, that body for anyone else's.

Just at the sight of her, memories of our time together on the show began flooding back. Excitement sparked in my veins and I almost found myself walking to her. Then I saw who she was with.

She'd already found someone new. Unbelievable.

Yes, I thought that might happen. I thought I wanted it to happen. But seeing her with another man, I just felt irritated beyond words. My hands clenched into fists on their own, trembling with frustration.

How could she find another man so easily or be with another man so soon when she said she loved me?

When they kissed, I almost punched someone. My blood was boiling so fiercely that I could barely contain it. I could barely stand watching. But then they started fighting. Lena started struggling. I just had to do something.

My body moved before I could think. I was back on my motorcycle before I knew it. And I very nearly killed that asshole.

I still want to.

Even now, even though the drive home should have cooled my head, my fists are still shaking, my temper still simmering.

Who does that piece of shit think he is? How dare he lay his hands on something that's mine?

"You're home early," a voice breaks into my thoughts.

I stop as I realize that my father, Harold McAllister II, is in the great room. His back is turned to me as he sits in his favorite chair facing the window, but he must have heard me coming. A glass of cognac sits between the fingers of his right hand.

"So are you," I remark.

He's usually out until past midnight, attending conferences or holding meetings with partners who live on the other side of the globe.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he says as he lifts his glass to his lips. "I can't always work late hours."

I know what he's saying. It's not sympathy he's asking for. Nor is he complaining about his age. He's as fit as a horse and looks well below forty. He's reminding me of the promise I made to him, the promise that I'd help him run the family company.

"Don't worry," I tell him. "I haven't forgotten our agreement. I'll show up for work the day after tomorrow."

The day after my 28th birthday.

"Good. And speaking of tomorrow, Mickey has invited a few important guests."

Of course she has. When has she ever passed up an opportunity to show off? "I'm well aware of it."

"Some of them have been doing business with me for quite some time. It is important that you gain their respect and confidence."

So my work starts tomorrow, huh?

"I understand."

I walk towards the grand staircase.

"Also, Mickey and I have talked about your marriage," he adds.

I stop in my tracks and frown. "And?"

"We think Judy will make the best wife for you."

"You mean she thinks so," I say through gritted teeth.

"I agree with her," he tells me. "The Lawrences and McAllisters have a long history of friendship. It's time we become family."

I turn towards him. "I thought you were considering others."

"Of course, but we both decided that Judy is the best choice."

"And what I think does not matter. Am I not even allowed to choose from a pool of candidates?"

"Judy is the best candidate," my father repeats. "Why settle for anyone but the best?"

My fist tightens. "And if I say no?"

"You can't," he answers. "You promised."

Right. I did. For nearly two decades of freedom, I accepted a lifelong prison sentence. And now it's time for me to serve that sentence.

I knew this day would come. I braced myself for it. But now that it's here, I can feel its crushing weight. I can barely breathe.

"Tell me," I ask him. "Now that I'll be using the McAllister name once more, are you going to start thinking of me as your son? Or will I be just an employee, a pawn in your plans?"

He doesn't answer, but his silence tells me what I need to know.

I nod. "Then there's no more point talking."

I go up the stairs two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door behind me like a rebellious teenager. But it's no use. I'm not a teenager anymore and there's no point in rebelling. I'm doomed to this life in my father's shadow. And the only person who could have made it all bearable will never be a part of it.

~

"Now, now, don't look so glum." Jeremiah hands me a glass of scotch as he finds me in the balcony. "This is a birthday party, right? Not a funeral."

"It may as well be," I say as I take a sip from the glass.

Even though it's my birthday, I don't feel like celebrating at all. I've made polite conversation with my father's 'important guests' and put on fake smiles. I've been on my best behavior. But celebrate? Do I have a reason to?

Jerry places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. "I know you're not used to dwelling in the corporate world, but you'll be fine. You just have to do as your father tells you and learn from him. That's what I've been doing."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Don't worry. No matter how much you mess up, he won't fire you. He can't."

I give the ice cubes in my glass a gentle swirl. "There are worse things than getting fired."

Jerry sighs. "You're just determined to sulk, aren't you? That's weird. I don't think I've ever seen you sulk before."

"I'm not sulking." I lift the glass to my lips once more.

"Is it because of that woman? What was her name again? Lena?"

My shoulders immediately tense at the sound of her name.

"Wasn't it all just a game to you?"

I lower my glass. "I said I'm not sulking. I don't sulk. I'm just... contemplating what lies ahead."

"I see." Jerry takes a sip from his own glass. "Speaking of what lies ahead, I heard my mother and yours--"

"She's not my mother."

"...your stepmother, that is, talking earlier. It seems we'll be brothers-in-law soon."

I turn to him. "You sound happy."

"About having you as a brother-in-law?" He shrugs. "I guess it could have been someone worse."

My eyebrows crease. "You sound like you're the one I'm marrying."

He laughs and puts his arm around me. "Well, I guess it's sort of like that, isn't it? You marrying my sister, marrying into my family."

"Isn't it the other way around?"

He pats my shoulder. "Besides which, I've always thought about you as a little brother, the brother I never had."

So have I. So there was no need for us to be brothers-in-law. But I guess there's nothing I can do about that now.

I sigh. "I'm not sure I want to be related to someone like you."

"Oh, don't be like that." He pats my shoulder harder.

I gaze into the distance. "Does Judy know?"

"No," Jerry answers. "But I'm sure when she finds out, she'll--"

"There you are," Judy's voice rings through the air as she approaches.

"Speaking of the angel," Jerry whispers to me before turning to face her. "Hey."

She turns to me. "I knew I'd find you."

I force a grin. "Don't you always?"

She smiles, then casts a meaningful glance in Jerry's direction.

"And I'm off," Jerry says. "I need another drink."

Of course he's leaving. One look from Judy and he wags his tail. If he wasn't my best friend, I'd punch him. Or maybe I should anyway, just to make him come to his senses.

"What were you two talking about?" Judy asks me as soon as Jerry is gone.

"Nothing." I swallow the remaining contents of my glass.

She leans on the railing. "Enjoying your birthday so far, I hope?"

I don't answer as I set my glass down.

"You know, you never did say if you liked my dress."

She runs her fingers over the blue velvet, down from the beaded neckline, between her breasts, past her belly and over to the slit that reveals her thigh.

"It looks great," I tell her.

And yet I can't help but think it would look better on Lena.

Lena. She just pops into my head at the most unexpected times.

"Really?" Judy's face lights up.

She gives a whirl.

"It took me weeks to decide on this."

Weeks that she could have spent doing something else, like learning how to cook, maybe, or at least how to behave correctly. It puzzles me, really, how Jeremiah's such a good man when his sister has so many screws loose. And yet everyone seems to adore her.

She runs her hands through her auburn hair. "You know, I watched that show you said you'd be on. Only because you were on it."

I should have known she would. Wait. Did that show air this week?

"I was worried, you know," Judy goes on. "I was almost convinced you were a real couple."

She was?

"But then it was all just a game to you, right? That was clear in the last episode." She shakes her head. "Ah, but that girl looked so heartbroken. She really fell for you. Then again, who wouldn't? I almost feel sorry for her."

I say nothing as I stare at my empty glass. I wish it was full again.

Judy clings to my arm. "But she was stupid, right? There was no way she could keep you. I mean, you're not just Riley Boyle. You're Riley Boyle McAllister and she's a nobody. How could she hope to be with you?"

My jaw clenches.

Judy strokes my arm. "She should have known she didn't stand a chance. Ah, but she fell in love anyway."

I narrow my eyes at her. What does she know of love?

"Or was that just acting?" Judy touches her chin. "Maybe she wanted to show off her skills so she could become a celebrity herself after--"

"Lena's not like... that," I blurt out.

I couldn't keep quiet any longer, but at least I managed to change the last part of my sentence.

Not like you.

Still, Judy gazes up at me with wide, confused eyes.

I draw a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm just--"

The phone in my pocket rings.

Ah. Perfect timing.

I fish it out and glance at the number on the screen.

"Excuse me," I tell Judy. "I have to get this."

Actually I have no idea who's calling, but the fact is I'd rather talk to an insurance salesman than Judy right now.

"Riley Boyle," I say as I answer the call.

I'm still not used to adding the McAllister.

"Mr. Boyle, this is Dan Thurman."

"Dan." My eyebrows rise.

The network executive. The one who asked me to be on Wed For A Week.

"Is this a good time?" he asks.

"Yes. Why?"

I hear him draw a deep breath. "There's something important I need to tell you."