who’s here.” The dark-haired man behind the desk smiled coldly as I strode into his office. “If this is about the contract, my answer’s still the same.”
“Your money isn’t as big as you think, Wyatt.” I took the chair across the glass desk without waiting for an invitation. “There are many firms wanting to work with da Silva. Brookers is very eager.”
“That’s why you’re here? To tell me you’re going to my rival?” Ryland Wyatt flashed his teeth at me, leaning back in his executive chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “Do me a favor. Tell Brookers they can go suck a dick, and while they’re at it, so can you.”
I rolled my eyes. Ryland Wyatt was a skilled businessman, and was even tolerable when he had that facade on.
But without it, he was just another elitist bastard who annoyed the fuck out of me.
I helped myself to a cigarette from the holder on his table.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth, amigo?” I said around the stick clamped between my teeth as I lit it.
“My mother’s dead.”
“I know.”
Ryland narrowed his eyes. “The fuck are you here, da Silva?”
“I’m giving you another chance to work with me.”
“The title of most cocky piece of shit is already taken, but if you’re trying to give me a run for my money, you’re doing a damned good job.”
I drew in from the cigarette. “Sixty percent share of the resort.”
Ryland’s eyes sharpened instantly. He sat straighter, his nose swinging to the smell of money like a fucking radar. “Sixty-five, and we’ll talk it out right now.”
“Done. I will start with my terms.” I stared him down across the table. “Other than the usual, I have something else I want that may be… different.”
Ryland merely raised a brow as if he was used to such requests. “Do I need to be concerned about legalities? AKA, will it be criminal?”
I tipped my head. “Maybe.”
He nodded like it was completely reasonable. “Go on.”
“You have contacts across the world. If in the future I need someone to be found, I want you to find that person for me.”
Ryland began to check off his fingers. “One. Are you currently tracking him? Two. Is he someone I know? Three. What did he do to piss you off?”
“No, no, and none of your beeswax.”
“I didn’t know you had that saying in Brazil.”
I exhaled a cloud of smoke, taking my time to answer. “We don’t.”
It was just something Emma used to say.
Ryland sat back in his chair and studied me. “Any reason you’re not doing this yourself? You have the money and manpower. Last I heard, your clan is unofficially the richest in your country.”
“This person is good at disappearing, and Wyatt has more influence overseas than da Silva. You can find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”
“Dammit, now I’m really curious,” Ryland muttered. He rubbed his chin as he watched me.
I raised a brow. “If you’re trying to read me, save the trouble. You won’t find anything I don’t want you to find.”
“Sure,” Ryland said easily. “But all I really need to know is that you’re worked up about this.” He rapped the table twice. “Seventy percent. I want seventy percent on the project.”
Fucker. “Done.”
“Seventy-five.”
I smiled at him pleasantly. “Sixty.”
“I’ll bring it back down to sixty-five if you tell me who this guy is and what he did to deserve an execution.”
“Sorry, but I’m not planning to kill anyone.”
“You sure as hell aren’t tracking him to invite him to a tea party,” Ryland retorted. “Look, you’ll need to tell me sooner or later. I can’t be searching for a ghost.”
I stubbed the cigarette out on the ashtray on his desk. “It’s a her.”
Ryland gave me a slow smile. “So the fucking tables have turned. Who’s the unlucky lady? Freida? Lola? A new girl?”
I stiffened. Why the fuck did he jump to that conclusion?
“No,” I said tightly. “She’s…a friend. Not one of the girls.”
Ryland headed to his liquor cabinet, shaking his head like he found it funny. “And what’s the problem here? You cheated on her and now she’s leaving your sorry ass?”
“I’m not here to discuss my love life,” I clipped.
“So it’s love, is it?”
I narrowed my eyes at his back. Two can play this game.
“Horace Beckett’s daughter is your woman, no?” I said idly. “I heard you two are back on again.”
Ryland threw me a dirty look over his shoulder. “It’s only been three days. How the fuck did you know?”
“I know everything that goes on in these circles, amigo.”
“Yeah, you’re the fucking Wolf,” he muttered, coming back to the desk with two glasses of whiskey.
“How did you do it?” I couldn’t help asking. “She saw an ugly side of you that night at my club. How did you win her back?”
Ryland raised a brow. “And what’s it to you?”
I took the glass he offered me and tossed back a mouthful of whiskey. It went against my nature to admit weakness to anyone other than Emma, but I had to. “I’m in a similar position.”
“So your woman is on the run,” Ryland mused, half sitting against his desk. “And you’re trying to track her down…why? What’s your motive?”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” I said coldly.
Ryland scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly Man of the Year. A thousand bucks says you’ve got twenty illegitimate bastards all over the city.”
I bared my teeth. “Fuck. Off.”
He made it sound like Emma deserved better than me. What pissed me off was that it was probably true.
Ryland shrugged, raising his glass to his mouth. “Just saying.”
“How did you make her change her mind?” I asked tightly.
The heir studied me for several moments, trying to gauge how desperate I was to know.
“Allie left for a reason other than what you think,” he finally said. “I’m not telling you what, obviously, but trust me, it was bad.”
I frowned. Emma had wondered before if Ryland Wyatt was hiding something in his past. Was this it?
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Ryland continued, giving me a rare look of sympathy. “All I know is that I wouldn’t have stopped until I had her again.”
I felt the same about Emma.
I drained my glass and slammed it on the table.
Fuck seventy days. I’d take as long as needed to change her mind, and one day, she would.
She had to.