at the apartment driveway at six-thirty, feeling out of place in my borrowed clutch and evening dress.
The dress was nude number with an intricate lace bodice that I’d purchased in a moment of weakness two years ago.
And like most clothing bought on impulse, I hadn't actually had the chance to wear it since then, and it hung a little loose on me now.
Lesson learned: never shell out money for something I'd probably never wear.
I teetered on the back of my heels as I waited for Cam to arrive, feeling strangely nervous.
It wasn't because of the gala. I'd attended a few back when I was with Bateman & Co, so it wasn't a new experience—even if this one was the most lavish event I’d ever been invited to.
The reason for my nervousness was Ryland.
No surprise there.
I exhaled, idly tracing the beaded patterns on Karin's clutch and wondering what I should say to him when we met again later.
How was I supposed to react to what he did earlier?
Should I thank him?
Should I pretend not to have realized?
I stewed in my worry as I waited.
A full twenty minutes passed before a bright red Ferrari finally pulled up to the driveway.
The driver’s door opened, but instead of Cam, it was Gabriel who got out.
That would explain the lateness.
“Allie Beckett.” Gabriel grinned and threw his arms open like a circus showman. “How've you been?”
Waiting. I've been waiting.
As he rounded the car to open the door for me, I saw that he was dressed in a plum-colored suit, of all things. It would have looked tacky on any other guy, but Gabriel’s face and hair were too perfectly made-up for him to look anything but high fashion.
His car was no different. It was the same Ferrari I saw in the pictures online, except now I could see that the interior was also the same garish shade of fire-engine red.
I forced a smile as Gabriel held the door open. “Ryland told me to expect Cam, actually.”
He shrugged. “Something cropped up at the last minute, so Cam called me instead. You don't mind, do ya?”
“Guess not,” I mumbled, though it wasn’t exactly a great feeling to be passed around like a hot potato.
I ducked through the car door that he held open, sliding into the brightly-hued passenger seat. It was every bit as luxurious as Ryland's was, though it was a confusing experience to have my butt and back feeling pampered while my corneas screamed for mercy.
“Buckled up?” Gabriel flashed a grin at me as he got behind the wheel.
I clicked the seat belt in place. “Yeah.”
He pulled us out of the driveway and began the journey to Lancaster Hotel.
“So. Ten years, huh?” He grinned at me. “You're looking good.”
“Thanks. So do you,” I said honestly.
All four of the guys were unfairly attractive, but Gabriel had been the one with the largest throng of adoring fangirls, with his sandy brown hair and boyish looks. There had even been a rumor back in school that a single megawatt smile from him could soak a girl's panties.
I was presently the recipient of such a smile. While it wasn't exactly a fountain down there, it did startle me for a split second.
Gabriel was a good-looking guy, after all.
“I know,” he said in response to my earlier statement, throwing me a wink.
“Modest as ever,” I murmured, looking out of the car window.
“Not bragging if it's true,” he said cheerfully. “And you know me. If nothing else, I’m at least honest.”
“Actually, aside from the fact that you drink and party way too much, I don't know you at all.”
“Fair enough.” Gabriel took a right turn, handling his car deftly. “You’re not too far off the mark though. I'm a socialite, which means it's my full-time job to drink and party.”
I said nothing to that, so he tried again.
“Look, I know it's been awhile, so why don't we start over?”
He held out one hand to me. “Hi. I'm Gabriel Easton, millionaire playboy philanthropist, heir to Easton Group, and more importantly, the money that comes with it. You are?”
“Both hands on the wheel, please. I don't want my name on the front page beside yours if there's an accident.”
Gabriel whistled, withdrawing his hand. “Ryland mentioned you were wary, but he didn't tell us you were this prickly.”
I blinked. “You were talking about me? Why?”
“Hard not to, with this shit with Estelle going down.” Gabriel gave me an amused glance. “Chill, sweetheart, I'm harmless. And Ryland will have my balls if I don't deliver you safely. I happen to like them where they are.”
I highly doubted his statement about being harmless, though my heart gave an extra beat at the second last one.
“If Ryland cares that much,” I said offhandedly, “why can’t he take me there himself?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Gabriel frowned. “It’s not like he had anywhere else to be. Has something happened between the two of you, by the way?”
I swung my gaze to him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I said something about hooking up with you, and Ryland looked like he wanted to rip my throat out.”
My heart sped up. “He did?” Then, “You said what about me?”
“Hooking up,” Gabriel said helpfully. “I told Ryland that I was thinking about fucking you.”
I stared. “How were you the most popular guy back in San Juan?”
“So many reasons, babe.” He winked at me. “Want me to demonstrate?”
“Only if you're fine with Ryland ripping your throat out,” I muttered.
Gabriel laughed at that. “I have a feeling you'll be worth it,” he said with a lingering look.
I knew enough about him to know that his flattery was exactly that, so I didn’t acknowledge it, turning to look out the window instead.
The hotel soon came into view, a behemoth of a skyscraper built on a stretch of prime property near Broadway. It was an opulent, palatial building that bragged a history of housing celebrities from the silver screen.
And I knew those facts only because Karin had regaled me with them last night. She had been more excited than me, and made me promise to take pictures with any celebrity who let me.
I peered out the window as we pulled into the spacious driveway of the hotel. It was already lined with luxury cars of every make and color, and the perimeter around the driveway was surrounded by velvet cordons that kept the crowds of photographers and fans at bay.
“Sweet place, huh?” Gabriel grinned as he turned off the ignition. “Cam lives in the residential suites at the top, lucky bastard.”
We got out of the car, and he tossed his keys to a waiting valet along with a hundred dollar bill. “Return her without a scratch, and you get another hundred.”
The moment we entered the main lobby, I was hit with the scent of lightly perfumed air.
The hotel had been built in the early twenties, yet everything looked new and shiny here, from the grand staircase that curved over our heads to the long gleaming windows. Tiny iridescent spots of light danced on the marble floor and pillars, reflected off the giant crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling.
Gabriel led me to the elevator lobby, and a waiting attendant took us up to the third floor where guests in evening wear were already milling about.
“Here we are,” he announced as we strolled towards the double doors to the ballroom. “The crown jewel of Lancaster Hotel.”
The ballroom was even more lavish than the main lobby, or any other place I'd ever been to.
There were more crystal chandeliers here, and the gilded pillars and intricate ceiling murals reminded me of an actual palace. The carpets were so plush that my heels sank into it, and jewels glittered on the lapels, necks and wrists of the finely-dressed guests, threatening to blind me at every turn.
“Do you know all these people?” I asked Gabriel, feeling self-conscious suddenly.
There was no hiding the fact that I was cut from a different cloth from the crowd around me. These people held themselves with an air of self-assuredness that I would never be able to emulate. It reeked of confidence, and of money.
“Most of them,” Gabriel answered readily, “though Ryland knows more, since everyone and their mothers would kill to have him in their circle.”
His expression turned thoughtful as he glanced around. “And as usual, they’re all posing in their expensive shit when all they really want is to kiss the asses of those with more. It’s fucking depressing.” He took two flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to me.
I gulped a mouthful of champagne thirstily. “If you hate it so much, why are you here?” Then I held up a finger. “Wait, don't tell me. It's because you're bored.”
Gabriel grinned down at me. “Look at us, getting to know each other and shit.”
I rolled my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at my lips.
It was hard to stay wary of Gabriel when he was so good-natured, even though I suspected that his easy demeanor was carefully manufactured from years of practice.
“There's our guy.” He jerked his chin in the direction of a group of suited men. “Even at a party, he's working.”
I scanned the ballroom immediately, and my breath caught when I spotted a familiar form standing several tables away.
Ryland was dressed in a severe black-and-white suit that brought the sharpness of his features into greater contrast. He was engaged in conversation with a group of six men, all of whom were decades older but appeared to be hanging onto every word he was saying.
I watched the measured way he spoke, the alertness of his expression, the masculine grace of his hands as he gestured his ideas.
Ryland Wyatt the businessman.
Another facade to add to Ryland Wyatt the capable boss, Ryland Wyatt the rude jerk, and Ryland Wyatt the seductive lover.
Who was he really, under all those layers?
“What about you?” I asked Gabriel, tearing my eyes from Ryland. “Don't you have to go socialize for Easton Group?”
Gabriel choked on his champagne. “Fuck no, there's nothing in it for me. I already have a trust fund that will last me three lifetimes.”
“You can't spend forever being unemployed,” I pointed out.
“Actually, I can. I'm presently fucking my way through every socialite and heiress in Manhattan. Do you know how many would kill to be in my position?”
“I envy your lack of concern for your future,” I muttered.
“That's because my future is secure. My only job is to spend away my family's money faster than they can make it.” Gabriel tipped his chin at Ryland. “That asshole could take some pointers. He can buy and sell even my family, and he hasn't gone on vacation for a decade.”
“That asshole takes his job seriously.”
Gabriel shot me a curious look. “You’re taking his side?”
“Just saying it as it is.” My gaze went unerringly back to Ryland.
He was still surrounded by the group of men, all of whom were now laughing at something he had said.
Ryland himself was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
A lonely man at the top of a lonely pyramid.
As if sensing my gaze on him, Ryland turned in my direction.
The moment our gazes locked from across the ballroom, all sound around me slipped away. I saw nothing but his piercing blue eyes staring back at me, heard nothing but the sound of my pounding heart in my ears.
Every new facet of Ryland I uncovered confused me, but that confusion made me want to know more still. It was bad news for me, and yet I seem to couldn't turn away from him.
And Ryland?
I swallowed against my dry throat.
Ryland watched me like he was a hawk and I was his prey. There was nothing tender about his gaze, and no mistaking the intent in them.
He wanted me, and he was going to have me.
Just then, the man beside him made a comment, and Ryland offered his attention again, once more the perfect businessman.
The moment was lost.
“Go save him,” Gabriel said in amusement. “Doubt those cronies will let him go anytime soon.”
“Right.”
I felt strangely breathless. Setting aside my glass, I stood a little straighter and headed over to the group of men.
As if sensing my imminent intrusion, the men circled around Ryland even more tightly. I barely managed to get an elbow in before I was pushed aside again.
I lingered by feeling awkward until Ryland's arm snaked out suddenly, taking my arm and tugging me firmly beside him.
“Everyone, this is Allie, my assistant.”
It might as well have been a declaration through a mic.
The group of men turned to me with identical bright smiles as if they'd just noticed me, and offered enthusiastic “How are you's” and “Nice to meet you's.”
The last one, a heavy-set guy with jowls and thinning hair, gave me a slow, leering once-over. “Where'd you get such a hot little piece, Wyatt?”
I instinctively took a step closer to Ryland's side.
Ryland gave the man a look that could freeze the Hampton River.
“Like I said, Paul,” he said in a dangerous voice, “she's my assistant. You’ll want to choose your words carefully next time.”
An awkward beat of silence descended upon the group, before Paul erupted into boisterous laughter to cover up his embarrassment.
“Nice catch,” he guffawed. “Bad phrasing on my part, must be all this wine.” He grinned at me conspiratorially. “You've got yourself a good boss, eh?”
I returned with a polite smile. “I have no complaints.”
“Excuse us,” Ryland said coolly. “We have some urgent matters to attend to.”
We stepped away from the men, who were all smiling so widely it must hurt, and turned to head back to where Gabriel was watching with a wide grin.
“That greasy bastard,” Ryland growled. “You handled it well.”
“Not my first time meeting assholes like him,” I shrugged as I strolled alongside him.
“Really?” Ryland shot me a frown. “When were the other times?”
“I don’t recall exactly. Everywhere, I guess. On the streets, in the workplace, on the subway.” I wrinkled my nose in distaste. “You'd be surprised by all the crap girls have to deal with.”
A muscle in Ryland's jaw ticked. “And Wyatt Corp? Have you had problems there?”
“Not so far.” I hesitated. “But I can't speak for everyone.”
Instead of taking offense that his company was less than perfect, Ryland surprised me with a curt nod. “I'll speak to HR tomorrow. This shit will not fly at my firm.”
A slow smile broke across my lips. “The greasy bastard was right,” I marveled. “You are a good boss.”
Ryland stared at me for a beat, and my smile faded under his scrutiny.
“What?” I tucked my hair behind my ear self-consciously.
He turned to face ahead again. “You look good.”
My cheeks heated at his unexpected compliment. “Thanks.”
“I look pretty fucking hot myself,” came a drawl, “and you didn't even notice. Breakin’ my heart, Ry.”
Ryland shot Gabriel an irritated look. “You don't need anyone else's attention dumbass, you're self-sustaining. And where's Cam?”
“Dunno. He just called and told me to pick up Allie, then disappeared.”
“So you drove Allie here,” Ryland clarified.
“Yeah, you're welcome too. I delivered her like you wanted, and not even a word of thanks.”
“Thanks. Now fuck off.”
“Fucking off. I got better things to than watch you two make eyes at each other.” Gabriel gave us a cheerful two-fingered salute and strolled off.
“Did he try anything funny?” Ryland asked, keeping his narrowed gaze on Gabriel's back.
I pondered his question. “Most likely. Being flirty is in his nature, isn't it?”
His jaw tightened. “Cam better have a good reason for this.”
“And what about you?” I asked nonchalantly. “Gabriel said you had nothing on. You could have picked me up yourself.”
“I could have,” Ryland agreed, looking around the ballroom in disinterest. “I just didn't feel like it.”
I blinked in bewilderment as his sudden change in attitude. “Why do you act like such an ass whenever I'm starting to change my mind about you? One moment you're nice, and the next you’re just mean.”
“There lies the problem, Allie cat.” Ryland raised a brow. “My name and “nice” are never used in the same breath. You're pretending that I'm something I'm not because you want to believe it. Fucking stop.”
“I’ll believe the things I see from you, not what I hear,” I retorted. “I'm not just talking about what you did earlier when you drove me back, I’m also talking about happened in your office—”
“I know what happened there, trust me,” Ryland said through a clenched jaw. “It's not like you're letting me forget.”
“Wha—” My mouth fell open. “What the hell did I do?”
He scowled. “Seriously? You want to do this shit right now?”
“If by shit, you mean hash out the fact that you had me half-naked in your closet and then ignored me for a week, then yeah, I want to do this shit.”
Ryland took my elbow in a hard grip and steered me to an unoccupied, dimly-lit corner of the ballroom.
“What’s your problem?” he demanded.
I gaped. “What’s my problem? I’m not the one who lost control!”
“You were kissing me right back,” he gritted. “Do I need to remind you? You were grinding on my cock and moaning my name. You were so fucking wet you soaked the front of my pants.”
We glared at each other, our chests rising and falling with our breaths.
I was both angry and aroused, and from the gleam in his eyes, Ryland felt the same too.
But no way was I going to admit it to him that I was affected, now that he was being an asshole again.
“Whatever.” I twisted my arm from his grasp. “Like I said, it was a mistake, and it won't happen again.”
“And like I said, it will. The sooner you come to terms with that fact, Allie cat, the better it is for the both of us.”
“You're talking about us sleeping together like you're commenting on the weather!”
“And how's that a problem? Will it be a big event to you when we fuck?” Ryland's lips twisted coldly as I gaped at him. “Because to me, it'll be no different from scratching an itch. The moment I get you out of my system, Allie cat, I'm done with you.”
I reared back as if he had slapped me.
“You asshole,” I whispered. “I'm not some toy for you to fuck and discard.”
“I know that, which is why I want you to do the same to me.”
My brows snapped together. “What?”
“I want you to fuck and discard me. Then we're even.” Ryland’s lips twisted coldly. “It's called a fling, by the way. You should try it some time.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “I don't do flings. I can't.”
“Then I'll be your first.” Ryland watched me intently. “Yes or no, Allie cat? Just say the word, and before the night is over, I'll be fucking you in all the ways you've been fantasizing about.”
My heart raced as his dirty words.
Did I want to sleep with Ryland?
I swallowed hard as the answer came to me. Yes.
Could I do this and have my heart remain intact?
Staring up at Ryland, I saw the face of a guy I both hated and liked. A guy that confused the crap out of me and made my blood pound, and my heart race.
The answer was no.
No, my heart was would be completely smashed to pieces if I ever got involved with Ryland, because no matter how hard I'd tried to keep him at a distance, no matter how many times I told myself he was a dangerous, he was already taking hold of me in ways I didn't expect.
I drew in a breath to reply when Ryland's attention suddenly fell to a point behind me.
His gaze hardened instantly at what he saw.
“Ryland,” came a cold voice.
I turned around and found myself staring up at a distinguished-looking older man.
White dusted the temples of his thick black hair, and his features were cold and angular. While he wasn't as tall as Ryland, his military bearing made it seem like he was.
Two other men stood at his sides, and I recognized the bespectacled one as Johnson Colt, the CFO of Wyatt Corp, and the slim one as Neil Wright, the Managing Director..
Which would make the first man…
“Dad,” Ryland greeted coolly. “Johnson, Neil.”
Thomas Wyatt Jr. didn't return his son's greeting, instead regarding him with a cold look.
I had never met Thomas before, since he’d spent most of his time in LA when we were back in San Juan, but there had been rumours about his strictness and cold demeanor.
Evidently, they weren’t just rumours.
My startled gaze flitted between the father and son.
Ryland and Thomas didn't look much alike at first glance, but the proud way they held themselves was the same. From afar, they might have looked like mirror images staring each other down.
Their eyes were the same as well, I realized.
Icy blue irises like glaciers, lighter than any I'd seen before.
But while Ryland's warmed with humor whenever he smiled—rare as that was—Thomas' looked completely incapable of thawing. His stare chilled me to the bone, and he wasn't even directing it at me.
“I was just looking for you,” Thomas told Ryland, his voice sharp. “Johnson here was telling me about the latest updates on the Brooklyn project. Looks like you were wrong about Fletchers after all.”
I snapped my brows together, looking at the CFO who was now shifting uncomfortably.
Why was he reporting behind Ryland's back?
And more importantly, why didn't Ryland seem surprised by it?
“It’s nothing we weren’t prepared for. You already knew that.” Ryland’s tone was calm, though I could sense the ripples of tension just under the surface, as if he were bracing himself for a fight.
Thomas' eye contact didn't break. “I did. But if you got rid of them when I told you to, we won't be having this delay now.”
“And like I said, if we broke the contract without warning, we'd be slapped with a lawsuit, and Smithson would not be working with us.”
Thomas gave a bark of laughter. “We're Wyatt Corporation.” He spread his hands as if stating an obvious fact. “They will work with us.”
Ryland smiled coldly. “We’re not the oligarchy like back in your day, Dad. Now there are rules that even we have to play by.”
Thomas went still at Ryland’s insinuation of his ignorance.
“Don't get so cocky, boy,” he sneered. “Everything you have now was built by me, you hear? You were nothing before I raised you up.”
My mouth fell open.
“That's not fair,” I cut in. “The company is doing so well under Ryland, everyone knows that. Isn't this what you wanted from him in the first place?”
Thomas Wyatt turned his full attention to me, and I actually took a half-step back from the sheer hostility in his expression.
“Alecia Beckett, was it?” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “You remind me of your father.”
My heart slammed against my ribs, but I couldn't look away from Thomas' cold eyes as they bore into me.
“Yes, I knew Horace very well. Worked his way up with nothing but his silver tongue.” He smiled coldly. “Your old man was good with words, but unfortunately, he never knew when to stop talking.”
I paled at his meaning, and Ryland tensed beside me.
“Enough,” he growled.
But Thomas didn't stop there.
“A word of advice to you, young lady,” he sneered. “When your betters are speaking, you keep quiet, and you pay attention.”
To my horror, my eyes began to prick with heat, and Thomas smiled with satisfaction.
“Now be a good girl and fetch us something to drink.”
My feet moved—with the intention to run, not to be Thomas Wyatt's retriever—but Ryland's hand took my arm in a firm grip.
“She's my assistant, not your servant,” he clipped, his voice tight with fury. “You’ll get your damned drink yourself.”
I swallowed nervously.
Around us, curious onlookers had begun to gather, hoping to get a glimpse of the heated exchange between New York's most famous father and son pair.
Thomas' smile was cruel. “Do you really want to do this now, boy? With so people many watching?”
Then he gave me a sidelong look. “Go on,” he ordered again.
Ryland's hand tightened on my arm as he stared down his father. Every muscle in his body was tense, but I still caught a hint of uncertainty in his fierce expression.
A pang twisted my chest.
How many times had his father played the same sick power game in front of an audience?
And how many times had they taken his father's side against his?
Thomas looked determined to prove that Ryland's authority was just an illusion, and I never hated anyone so much at that moment that I hated him for trying to undermine a proud guy like Ryland.
I gazed up at Ryland's tense profile. “I'm sorry, Mr. Wyatt,” I said.
A flash of hurt crossed his face, but he remained unmoving as a statue.
I turned back to Thomas and continued my address. “But I'm not going anywhere. Ryland's my employer, and I answer to him, not you.”
The looks of shock and disbelief from three of the most powerful men in the company were downright intimidating, but I forced myself to stand my ground.
Ryland looked surprised too, but his expression warmed as he gazed down at me.
“You heard her,” he said, his voice softening with a note of pride. “We'll continue this conversation another time.”
Johnson and Neil murmured their agreements, but Thomas took a step closer to Ryland, his eyes burning with barely-leashed anger.
“Congratulations,” he growled. “You've finally found yourself a pet. But don't forget that everyone has a price.”
“This one doesn't,” Ryland smiled faintly. “Trust me, I tried.”
Thomas' glare didn't waver. “You watch your back, boy. You're getting too cocky for your own good.”
Spearing me with a final look of animosity, Thomas spun and strode away, his two lackeys following close behind.
Ryland took my arm and deftly guided me out a side door to an empty hallway outside.
“You okay?” he asked in a low voice.
“About my dad? Yeah.” I swallowed. “I'm sorry, the words just came out before I knew it. Will this cause any trouble for you?”
“Probably,” Ryland said easily, humor gleaming in his eyes. “But if you hadn't done that, it would have gotten way uglier, trust me.”
“You'd think he'd be proud of what you achieved,” I said in bewilderment. “Isn't that what he wanted from you?”
Ryland paused. “He was for a while, years ago.”
“Until you became a threat to his ego?”
“Knowing him, yeah, but he'd die before he admitted it. If it's one thing we have in common, it's pride.”
Ryland’s gaze turned heated then, and my breath caught as he reached out and brushed my lower lip with his thumb.
“A Beckett saving a Wyatt,” he murmured. “Who would have thought?”
Voices came from around the corner then, and Ryland gave me a grin. “Come on. Let's go someplace quieter.”
I blinked. “Aren't there people you need to meet with? Business partners and future clients?”
“Yeah, but right now, there's some other place I'd rather be, with someone else.”
Before I could eke out a reply, Ryland took my hand.
“Come,” he said in a low voice.
I was helpless not to follow.
“A greenhouse on the top floor?” I stared wide-eyed at the three-story high glass atrium Ryland had taken me to.
It was so large that it could probably fit a few of Ryland's penthouses comfortably. The lush greenery of the plants formed a winding garden within, complete with seating areas and reading corners.
“It's for private use for the Lancasters and the VIP residents,” Ryland said, “but since they're all at the dinner downstairs, we'll have the place to ourselves.”
“Amazing.” I looked around again, then up at the dark sky beyond us. “I didn’t know this place existed.”
We wandered around for several minutes, and Ryland waited whenever I stopped to poke at a flower or plant.
“What's that smell, by the way?” I asked, inhaling a deep breath of the warm air in the greenhouse. “Is it lemon?”
“Close. It's the citrus trees, in the orangery at the back.”
I followed as Ryland led me out to a back wing filled with flowering trees. The scent of orange and lemon was so intense it was like someone had spilled a concentrated bottle of the smell around us.
I picked a loose white flower from a low branch and brought it to my nose.
“Oh, hey,” I blinked. “It's sweet. I thought it would smell like lemons.”
I held it out to Ryland, who raised his brow.
“I'm not gonna stand here sniffing flowers from your hands,” he said archly.
“Your loss.” I dropped the flower and dusted my hands on my dress.
Ryland slipped his hands into his pockets and took a considering look around. “I was thinking of installing a similar greenhouse in our next project.”
“Really?” I smiled in surprise. “I think it would be a hit with your residents. At least, I would like it.”
“You think?” Ryland angled his head, looking around the glasshouse thoughtfully. “What kind of plants should we have?”
“Hmm.” I looked up at the trees around us. “Definitely these.”
“Noted. What else?”
I strolled past the trees, running my fingers on their waxy leaves. “Roses,” I suggested, “and maybe some orchids. Anything with flowers really, then you can bring in butterflies.”
“A butterfly garden at the top of a building.” Ryland nodded slowly. “That should get us some decent media coverage.”
“You're such a businessman,” I remarked. “Most people would be thinking about how pretty it would be. Your mind goes straight to the money.”
“Occupational hazard.” He tipped his chin, gesturing at me to follow him.
I trailed behind him as he led me to a glass door at the back of the greenhouse.
My eyes widened when I saw what lay beyond the glass walls. “Is that what I think it is?”
“See for yourself.”
Ryland opened a door, and a crisp wind blew in immediately, pinning my dress around my legs. I stepped out onto an open-air terrace made of rough-hewn stone. It opened out to the night city, and beyond that, the waters of Upper Bay.
I was at the top of Manhattan.
“It's even better in the morning,” Ryland said, resting a forearm on the stone parapet. “The sun reflects off the water, and the bay becomes this golden mirror.”
“I can imagine,” I whispered.
I'd never felt more alive than I was at this point. Every detail hit my senses keenly, from the cooling surface of the stone parapet against my fingers to the saltiness in the breeze that swirled around us. This high up, I could hear nothing but the wind in my ears.
The dizzying height should have made me afraid, but Ryland was a warm, steadying presence beside me.
It was just the two of us atop the city, but at that moment, it felt like there was only the two of us in the world.
I looked up at Ryland, my throat tight all of a sudden. “Thanks for bringing me here. It's amazing.”