{Emma}

“Because it’s after nine and I have to work early.” Ryan’s voice booms through the mod. I throw on one of his shirts and pad out into the living room to find out who he’s talking to. He’s pacing, his phone to his ear. “No, it’s been raining. I don’t like riding the Vespa in the rain. No, Dad. I don’t need you coming here. Can’t this wait?”

Dad?

He must be talking to Stuart Ryan. The Stuart Ryan. The guy who singlehandedly makes it possible for students like me to go to BU by providing scholarships when financial aid doesn’t cover the cost of attendance. I’ve been a recipient of one of the Ryan Foundation Scholarships every semester.

A quick and terrifying thought pops into my head. What if my involvement with Ryan somehow jeopardizes my scholarship? I’ll be forced to leave school. Is that why Stuart Ryan sounds like he’s insisting on seeing his son tonight?

“You’re where?” Ryan whips around, facing the door. “No, I’m—” A knock at the door cuts him off. He ends the call as he drops a few F-bombs.

“Your dad is here?” I tug at the shirt, like covering my upper thighs will in any way make this less embarrassing. Shit. Shit! I race into the bedroom as the front door opens, slamming the bedroom door behind me. The walls are paper thin, and I hear everything as I scramble to find my clothes.

“What are you doing here?” Ryan doesn’t sound happy. “Oh, great. You brought Derek. Just when I thought my night couldn’t get any worse.”

“Yo, bro. Look at you. You look so normal now.” A man sounding remarkably like Ryan but with a deeper voice spoke up. I find my panties and jeans, and even my shirt. Now if I can just find my bra. I know I had one on when I got here. “Why’d you get a mod? You didn’t get me a mod, Dad.”

“We aren’t here to discuss living arrangements.”

That must be Stuart Ryan. I’d love to meet him and throw covers off the bed in search of my bra. It has to be here somewhere. I can’t go out there without it. Being at the mod at night is telling enough. I don’t need to advertise the fact I’m sleeping with the youngest Ryan by walking out braless.

“Why are you here?” Ryan asks, his tone harsh.

His dad answers with a question of his own. “Do you have someone here?”

“None of your business.”

“I take that as a yes.” There’s a long pause and I still as I listen. “Well? Don’t be rude, Harold. Go and get her. I’d like to meet the girl who has the power to turn my son into the man before me.”

“How do you know I have a girl over?”

“Aside from you admitting it by asking that question?” Stuart Ryan doesn’t waste any time establishing himself as the alpha in the room. I want to meet the man, thank him for the scholarship keeping me in school. If I can just find that damn bra. I’m working up a sweat looking for the elusive thing. “There are two wineglasses on the table. A pair of running shoes too small to be yours.”

Silence. And then Ryan’s curse. “She’s sleeping.”

“Then wake her. I’ll wait.” I picture them in a stare down, Ryan against Ryan, before my Ryan gives in.

There’s a knock on the door, startling me into action. I grab my shirt and hold it in front of me just as the door opens and Ryan pops his head in. He takes one look at the fact I’m still naked from the waist up and frowns as he steps inside the bedroom. “Why aren’t you dressed, yet?”

“I can’t find my bra,” I whisper fiercely. “What’d you do with it?”

“Where’d you take it off?” He matches my hissing whisper with his own.

“I didn’t take it off. You did.”

He shakes his head. “No. You did. Remember? Your arms disappeared and then reappeared, bra in hand.”

“Shit! That was out there.” My eyes are so wide they hurt. His expression matches mine as we both come to the same conclusion. We’re screwed.

He pales. And then he colors as he glances at the door. “Your bra is in the living room. With my dad. And my brother.” He grits his teeth as he forces a grin. “Awesome.”

“What are we going to do?” I demand in a sharp whisper.

“Stay here.” He leaves. I hear him a few seconds later right outside the door. “What are you doing?”

“Here.” It’s Derek, his voice low. “Dad didn’t see it.”

“Thanks.” The door opens just enough for Ryan to toss my bra inside the room before it shuts again.

I wiggle into it and throw on my shirt. I’ve never been so nervous and out of sorts getting dressed. I’m meeting Ryan’s dad. I’m about to meet the Stuart Ryan. My heart is in my throat. I should be wearing a dress. A skirt, at least. Not jeans frayed at the hem since they drag the ground whenever I walk. My shirt shouldn’t be a faded concert T-shirt two sizes too big I bought at the thrift store. I debate staying in the bedroom. I’m a mess. I’ve been crying. I have bed head.

My curiosity and want to meet Ryan’s family pushes past my insecurities. I open the door and, head held high, I pad out of the bedroom and down the short hall. As I enter the living room, all three men turn to me. My cheeks flame as I force a smile. I’m so damn nervous, my stomach flips and I swallow hard. That cheap wine curdles and threatens to make a second appearance.

“Emma,” Ryan greets and approaches. I hold his gaze, searching it for strength. He gives me a slight smile, but I see the turmoil tightening his expression. He’s just as nervous. As soon as he’s close enough, I reach for his hand and hold it tight. I need to feel him, need to channel his confidence in me since I can’t seem to find any at the moment. “Dad, Derek, this is Emma Rae.”

“Hey.” Derek grins and nods as he gives me a slow and steady assessment. My cheeks flame harder. He’s a few years older than Ryan, with tightly trimmed dark hair and the same steely eyes as his brother. Same handsome features of a straight nose, high cheekbones, and strong jaw. He’s broader in the shoulders and a few inches taller than Ryan. These two hit the genetic lottery.

“I’m Stuart.” He steps forward, his hand extended. I accept it quickly and match the pressure as we shake. I always feel weird shaking hands with a stranger. Do I let go first? How many shakes is too many? Is it like the theory of a guy shaking his penis? Too many times and he’s playing with himself? The fact I’m even thinking about a guy playing with himself as I shake Stuart Ryan’s hand has me mortified.

“It’s really great to meet you.” I release his hand and fight the urge to wipe my palm on my jeans. God, I’m so nervous I’m sweating.

Stuart assesses me, giving me time to do the same. I immediately see where the Ryan boys get their good looks. He has dark hair peppered with gray and the same chiseled features I admire about Ryan. His stormy eyes are accented by the rimless glasses perched high on the bridge of his nose. Well-built, well-dressed, and well-poised. He sported a cashmere sweater and sported it very well. I recall the sweater I forced Ryan to buy. It doesn’t look much different than Stuart’s.

“What do you have to drink, bitch?” Derek asks, already in the kitchen searching the cupboards.

Ryan closes his eyes when his brother calls him bitch. I know why. Brad uses that term with all his frat brothers. The fact Derek talks like a Delta doesn’t settle well. Forcing a hard smile, Ryan joins his brother in the kitchen. “Wine.”

“No beer?”

“No beer.”

“Dude, have I taught you nothing?”

“No, Derek. You’ve literally taught me nothing.”

Awkward. I avoid the tension in the kitchen by smiling at Stuart, wishing I were anywhere else. It was a terrible idea wanting to meet Ryan’s family. After the breakdown earlier, I’m still raw. My vulnerability has to be showing. Can they tell we had sex earlier? Does it show on my face? Oh, God. What if they can? What if someone says something? I’ll die.

“Where’s all your food?” Derek asks as he checks the fridge. “You’ve taken the term starving college student a little too far, dude.”

“You aren’t staying long enough to eat something.” Ryan closes the fridge and blocks the door to make his point. Derek straightens and edges closer as they challenge one another.

“That’s enough,” Stuart orders, and they both immediately back down. “Derek, if you’re hungry, go to the store and get something to make. Don’t eat your brother’s food.”

“He doesn’t have any food. Besides, I don’t know where the store is.”

“Take your brother.” They both draw in breaths to protest. Stuart simply looks at them. Derek nods. Ryan doesn’t.

“No, Dad. You guys can’t just drop in like this and stay for dinner.”

“From the sounds of it, you need food.” Stuart nods at Derek. “Take care of it.”

“Yes, sir.” Derek jumps into action, accepting the keys from Stuart. “Come on, bro. Time to fill your cupboards.”

“I don’t need—”

“Harold,” Stuart cuts him off. Ryan snaps his mouth shut and regards me. I have no idea what’s happening. I’m still stuck on how Derek, a guy who sounds like a true Delta, refers to his dad as sir.

“Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” As much as I want to beg to take me with him, I nod to confirm my answer. I don’t want to be left alone with his dad. I’ll say something stupid. My true self will come out, and I’ll piss him off. He’ll insist Ryan dump me for someone closer to his class—like royalty or maybe a senator’s daughter. After all, he’s a Ryan. He’s a freakin’ Ryan.

“You sure?”

“Ryan, go with your brother.” I struggle to hold my smile. I’m terrified not having him by my side. He makes me stronger than I really am. It’s his faith in me. His confidence I’m better than I think I am. The way he looks at me boosts my self-esteem. Without him here, I’ll slip back into my old ways.

He pulls me aside and stops by the front door. The look in his eyes, a cross between concern and apprehension, has me tense with worry. “You don’t have to do this. I can tell them to leave.”

“When was the last time you saw your dad?” When his answer is his gaze dropping to the floor, I squeeze his hands. “Or your brother?”

“Christmas at the annual forced family reunion.”

“It’s just one meal.”

“It’s not,” he corrects and shoots me with such an intense look I inhale sharply. “First, it’s buying me groceries. Then it’ll be a few extra dollars in my account. Then a car. Then the rest of my college. It never stops with him.”

I don’t understand. If I had a dad willing to do all of that for me, I’d let him. It sure would make things easier not having to stress over money all the time. Stressing over grades is enough. “Why don’t you want his help?”

“Because there are always strings attached. He doesn’t do anything without expecting something in return. Trust me.”

I sigh, not having anything good enough to say to that. Not knowing what else to do, I sigh again. “If you want them to leave, tell them to leave. But I don’t think you should. I think you should let them see you in your element. This is your domain, not theirs. Yours. Let them see how great you’re doing on your own. Let them see the man you’ve turned into.”

“That you’ve turned me into,” he corrects.

“Semantics, babe. Tomato, tomahto.”

He grins that lopsided grin I love. “You called me babe.”

“That’s your takeaway from my impromptu speech?” I tease, drawing an even bigger grin. “That was one hell of a speech.”

“That it was.” He steals a kiss that makes my stomach flip. “I have one hell of a girlfriend,” he whispers, and my stomach flips again.

“Fake girlfriend,” I remind him, albeit reluctantly.

He drops his smile and darts a quick glance at the other Ryans in the room. “Listen, they don’t need to know about our little deal, okay? Please, for tonight, don’t be my fake anything. I need you to be my real everything.”

The sincerity in his expression pulls at my heart. I nod as a sudden tidal wave of emotions closes my throat. He kisses my temple. I love the way it makes me feel, like I’m the center of his universe.

“Today, bro.” Derek groans. “We’re coming back.”

“Let’s go.” He nods at his brother. The two close the door behind them, leaving me alone with the richest man I’ve ever met.