, you are the light of my life. Words cannot express the adoration and love I have for you. You're an angel in every way. Happy 12th anniversary.
P.S. I'll be late at work, don't wait up.”
message when my phone buzzed again with a second text.
“Babykins, wear the red see-through tonight. I have a huge gift waiting for you.”
Ugh.
My eyes rolled back so hard I was surprised they didn't become stuck.
No prizes for guessing what the ‘huge gift' was. In addition to being a cheating bastard, Charles Duncan was also unbelievably stingy, and the only gift awaiting his mistress was his very unimpressively-sized penis.
I wished I didn't know that, but unfortunately for me, placing orders for custom-made condoms was in Charles Duncan's PA's long list of unofficial duties.
Resisting the urge to gag, I forwarded my boss' texts to Stella, my go-to florist, with the request to have them handwritten on gift cards and bundled with accompanying bouquets.
My phone vibrated again a moment later, the text coming from Stella this time.
“WTF? He's cheating on his anniversary night??? PS, roses for both?”
My lips quirked as I fired out my reply.
“He cheats most nights anyway. Tulips for the wife, and maybe red roses for Summer to match her underwear. Please don't get the addresses wrong!”
“My mental corneas are burning. And babe, I'm a professional. ;)”
With that settled, I set aside my phone and leaned back in my chair, squeezing out the cramps in my neck as I did.
The sky outside the office was already dark.
It had been a longer day than usual since it was Charles' anniversary tomorrow, which meant he was presently away in some hotel with his mistress.
That also meant that he’d left me to fend off the angry phone calls from Mrs. Duncan, who didn't make it easy for me to sympathize with her. My ears were still ringing from her screaming.
Then again, if I had a husband like Charles Duncan, I'd be screaming too.
As I rolled my neck and worked out the aches in my muscles, I thought again of that strange meeting with Ryland three nights ago.
Since then, Karin had been hounding me for details about the mystery guy who bought her painting. I just couldn't bring myself to tell her that her first buyer was an entitled jerk from our hometown who didn't give a damn about her or her art.
So in the end, I told a few white lies, and several outright ones. Karin bought them all, and I felt like crap for lying.
No thanks to a certain asshole.
Narrowing my eyes, I straightened in my chair and pulled up a new tab on my computer.
“Ryland Wyatt,” I murmured as I typed his name into the search bar and hit “Enter”.
The search immediately displayed several results of the jerk, and I scanned through the articles, piecing together bits of info.
He was the CEO of Wyatt Corp now, which was expected. Everyone in San Juan had known that Ryland would take over his dad's spot one day.
What surprised me however, was that Ryland seemed to be pretty good at what he did.
I leaned forward, frowning at the article on my computer screen.
Strike that.
He was freakishly good.
Profits were rolling in, share prices were climbing for the third quarter in a row, and journalists from business papers were crowing on and on about how the industry's youngest CEO was taking his grandfather's empire to even greater heights.
I didn't follow Wyatt Corp news for obvious reasons, but I knew that they were rumored to hold sway over even the country's property prices. To take that monstrosity and go even further with it was impressive.
I scowled, both surprised and puzzled.
This didn't sound like the guy from back in San Juan at all.
Ryland was smart, sure. All four of the guys were—you needed a certain level of intelligence to be their kind of manipulative.
But it wasn't like Ryland used those brains for anything more than his social games. If he hadn't been in their private room having a sex fest, he would be out on the terrace or down by the pool with his arm draped around some party girl.
Or he’d be drinking.
Or boredly watching the fights that Theo got his sick entertainment from.
In other words, Ryland was the exact definition of filthy-rich, depraved wastrel. He was as far from a capable CEO as I could imagine.
None of this made sense to me.
Bewildered, I clicked on a thumbnail of him speaking at a convention.
It was a photo of him standing on a stage like the kind they had at those TED talks, looking handsome and assured in his suit as he gave a presentation. I imagined the hundreds of people in the audience watching him with rapt attention.
If I hadn't known Ryland from back then, I might have even felt a tiny flutter in my stomach.
I scrolled through the rest of the photos and soon came to a paparazzi photo of him at a yacht party, and ho-ly crap.
He was shirtless.
And ripped.
I glanced around my empty office guiltily before turning back to the screen.
The photo had captured him on the deck of the yacht, with his dark hair slicked back and rivulets of water trickling down the sculpted planes of his pecs and washboard abs. His body was as toned as it had been back then, and larger now.
My cheeks heated when I recalled how close we had stood that night, with my breasts brushing against that.
After taking a final look, I tore my eyes away from the photo.
It didn't matter that he was hot. On principle alone, Ryland was the last man on Earth I should be drooling over.
I pulled up another browser tab and searched the next name: Gabriel Easton.
Unlike Ryland, Gabriel's search results were all linked to tabloid articles, and his interests were reserved solely for parties and socialites.
The only image I could find of him fully dressed showed an attractive guy with sandy-brown hair, decked in a stylish navy jacket and khaki pants. He was stepping out of a garish, bright red Ferrari, which probably meant that he hadn't changed much. Gabriel had always liked to be the center of attention.
I searched for Cameron Lancaster next.
“Managing Director at Lancaster Hoteliers,” I murmured as I read his profile.
Cam was even more jacked now, though he'd already been built like a bull back then. Other than that he looked pretty much unchanged, with his dark blonde hair still cropped in the same efficient style.
And finally, Theo Valentine.
I chewed my lips as I scanned the search results. Apparently, my would-have-been step-brother had his own law firm now.
I had nothing but sympathy for his employees. If his sadism back in San Juan had been any indication, they were likely suffering a fate worse than death.
Theo himself looked handsomely evil as ever, with his black hair and tanned skin and empty amber eyes. He looked like he was doing well.
They all did.
Exhaling silently, I closed the tabs.
There I had it. The guys were doing great in life, and I couldn't have turned out more differently from them if I tried.
How far you've fallen, Allie cat.
I tipped my head back, staring at the peeling ceiling above my cubicle.
Ryland may be a jerk, but he wasn't wrong on that point.
***
It was ten-thirty when I came up from the subway station and began making my way back to our apartment fifteen minutes away. Karin and I shared a two-bedroom in a borough far from the city center, and while it was no Upper East Side, at least we had a roof over our heads.
I made my way past the deserted blocks briskly, texting Karin to let her know I was on my way. The area was lit only by sporadic streetlamps, leaving pitch-black alleys between them, and I made sure to stay clear of those.
I was busy reading the news on my phone when suddenly the hairs on my nape prickled with awareness.
Something wasn’t right. Frowning, I perked my ears.
Then I stiffened when I heard it.
There was a set of heavy footsteps walking a short distance behind me.
Swallowing against my uneasiness, I began to quicken my pace.
To my horror, so did the footsteps.
Oh shit.
My blood turned to ice, and news reports of women who disappeared from the streets never to be seen again flashed in my mind.
I strode along as quickly as I could without breaking into a full-on run. I had an instinct that it would only trigger the guy into action, and there was no doubt in my mind that he would catch me in an heartbeat.
But the footsteps behind me quickened as well, picking up pace when I did.
Shit, shit, shit.
Turning a sharp corner, I cast a panicked glance around for anyone who could help, but the street was completely deserted.
I had to get out of here.
I drew a breath and angled my feet, gearing to run for my life.
But before I could take off, a large hand suddenly clamped over my mouth and nose, yanking me back against a hard chest.
“No!” I tried to scream, but my voice was choked in my throat.
White hot terror filled me as I thrashed, clawing and kicking like a mindless animal. But the band of steel around my chest only tightened, dragging me deeper into the darkness of the alley behind us.
The hand around my mouth loosened for a split second, and I barely had enough time to draw a panicked breath before I was jerked back again.
“Quiet,” the man growled in my ear.
I struggled harder for a split second—then froze at the familiar voice.
Ryland?
My eyes widened, but I couldn't make a sound with his hand pressed so tightly over my mouth.
From the corner of my eye, I saw his jaw hovering close to my face as he threw a glance back at the sidewalk. Then he gave me another warning look before he released me and gripped my arm.
“Come.”
Too stunned to argue, I let Ryland take me deeper into the alley, down several dark lanes, and toward what seemed like a dead end.
There, he made a sharp left turn into a shadowed alcove hidden from the main path.
The space there was tiny and barely enough to fit a person, but Ryland shoved me into it and crushed his body against mine, hiding us within the darkness.
The jagged bricks dug into my back as he pushed me into the wall, and my breasts pressed against his hard chest in a way that made my breath catch.
Heat flooded my cheeks as my mind leaped back to the photo I saw of Ryland earlier.
The one with him shirtless, with water trickling down his six-pack, down to his...
I gulped.
Bad time, Allie. You were nearly attacked thirty seconds ago.
“Don't move,” Ryland said in a low voice, his warm breath fanning my ear.
He kept my head tucked under his chin with one hand, while the other clasped my waist almost protectively. I could feel his heartbeat pounding in my own chest.
“What's happening?” I whispered.
Ryland kept his unblinking gaze on where we just came from. Every muscle in his body was poised to attack, as if he expected the stalker to turn the corner at any moment.
“You were being followed,” he said quietly. “They’re armed.”
My brows drew together.
There was more than one of them?
And what did he mean, armed?
My questions died in my throat when heavy footsteps pounded down the alley around the corner.
Ryland stiffened, and I instinctively huddled into the safety of his arms. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, sending my every sense into overdrive.
Meanwhile the footsteps drew nearer and nearer. A dark shadow closed in until it crept up the red brick wall in front of us.
The man was just around the corner.
Ryland remained a statue, but his hand tightened on my shoulder in warning. I dipped my gaze, and then I saw why.
In the right hand of the man's shadow was an unmistakable shape.
A gun.
My eyes widened.
This wasn't a random stalking. These men were hunting me, and the only thing that stood between me and death was Ryland.
For the first time in my life, I knew what it was like to be truly terrified.
The man's shoes crunched on the loose gravel as he paused in his step, and at that moment the weirdest thought floated through my mind.
I might actually die tonight, in the arms of Ryland Wyatt.
The tabloids would go crazy.
An insane urge to laugh gripped me, and my hands tightened in Ryland's shirt. I bit down on my lip so hard it bled. The both of us held frozen in our corner, neither one moving for what felt like forever.
Then finally, thankfully, the man backed away, his shadow receding in the opposite direction. I heard indistinct shouts in the distance, more footsteps splashing in shallow puddles.
And then…
Silence.
After a few moments, Ryland squeezed my shoulder and stepped out of the alcove. “Come.”
I hurried after him as noiselessly as I could as he took me deeper into the labyrinth of the alleys. My heart slammed against my ribs with every step, and I half-expected gunshots to ring out behind us at any second.
But nothing happened, and a couple more turns later, we emerged at a narrow side road where a sleek black sports car was waiting.
“Get in,” Ryland clipped.
I stumbled into the passenger seat as he rounded the car and got behind the wheel.
Just as I was shutting the car door, a shout came from the alley behind us.
Then there was a pop, and a clang of metal on metal.
“Fuck!” Ryland reached across me and forcefully yanked the door shut.
I watched in horror as two dark figures sprinted towards us at full speed.
“Go,” I breathed. “Go go go!”
Ryland floored the accelerator, and the engine roared to life instantly. With a piercing screech of rubber, we hightailed it out of the alley and into the night.