It was so sexist, it still makes my teeth hurt.
And Ryder always comes out of everything smelling like roses.
Still, this job is what pays the bills, and I know he’s paying me a lot better than the going rate. Plus he covers all my medical and dental, and I’m going to need that more than ever.
“Don’t pout, babe,” Ryder says. “What’s done is done.”
“Is this why you asked me not to accompany you to the wedding?” I wouldn’t have attended the ceremony, but I would’ve gone to make sure every detail was taken care of to his satisfaction. Stuff like that is part of my job. “You said you’d be good.”
“I was. I went to the wedding like I promised and danced with the bride. Told everyone how awesome it was, how much I enjoyed myself. I even made a toast. Call Mark. Ask him.”
Mark is Ryder’s cousin and the groom.
My teeth were still grinding. “You missed the rehearsal dinner.”
“Hey, I apologized to Mark. And maybe to the bride, too.” He squints and snaps his fingers a couple of times. “Valerie? Mallory? Hilary! Anyway, I can’t remember, but she probably doesn’t care since she got to dance with me.” He waves a negligent hand at the bill on my desk. “That’s pocket change. Don’t worry about it. It’s all cool.”
“Yes, except for your mother who’s undoubtedly upset. I told her you’d be there, including the rehearsal dinner.”
“She seemed okay to me.”
“So you did talk to her?” That would be something, at least.
“Ah, I tried, but it was a big ceremony. Lots of guests. You know how those things can be.”
A tiny, bean-sized knot in my forehead starts to throb.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “She’ll pout for a week and then get over it. We can send her something nice for her birthday. Or Christmas. Whichever you like.”
His mother knows I pick out the gifts, not Ryder. She will be angry no matter what I send her. If it’s small and thoughtful, she’ll call it stingy. If it’s extravagant, she’ll accuse me of being presumptuous and wasteful, even though money is never an issue in Ryder’s family since everyone’s drowning in the stuff.
My cellphone rings. I glance at the ID—Geraldine Pryce.
Speak of the devil…
Normally I would let it go to voicemail, but I’m peeved, so I answer it before Ryder realizes who’s calling.
“Good morning, Ms. Pryce,” I say, my voice extra sweet and professional.
Ryder’s face crumples like a wadded piece of paper.
“Good morning, Paige.” Ryder’s mother’s voice is always cool with a hint of stickiness that isn’t easy to describe. Kind of like half-melted sugarless, fat-free ice cream.
Divorced, Geraldine Pryce refuses to be referred to as “missus.” She doesn’t want me calling her by her first name, either. I’ve never met the woman in person, but I’ve heard stories. She has to be the long lost sister of Miss Manners. If that’s too far-fetched, maybe a cousin, but nothing less.
“Is Ryder available in the next two weeks?”
“The next two weeks?” I purr. “Let me check.” I pull up his calendar.
Across from me, he is shaking his head and hands frantically. I pretend not to see him and keep scrolling through the schedule. He leans forward, mouths “no” and makes slashing motions right in front of my eyes.
I take pity on him. After all, he did give me a chance when nobody else would. Back then I was just a girl fresh out of college with no experience or connections in Hollywood.
“I’m sorry, but he’s unavailable,” I say. “Is this something urgent? If so, I can see what I can do.”
“Urgent? I suppose that depends on one’s point of view. I simply thought the family should have dinner, seeing as how he missed the one at his cousin’s wedding.” Geraldine’s tone says she’s too well-bred to make accusations, but she knows where the fault lies—me.
“If you can have your assistant figure out everyone’s schedule… Is Julian coming too?” I can call Ryder’s father Julian because Geraldine doesn’t think he’s worth the respect of “Mr. Reed,” and Julian doesn’t want me to be formal with him.
“Oh, I’m sure Julian’s busy with his new wife. It would be just the four of us.” Her, Ryder and his brother and sister—Blake and Elizabeth.
“I’ll see what I can do, Ms. Pryce.”
“Thank you, Paige.”
“My pleasure.”
I count to two and disconnect. The last time I hit the red button without waiting, she made a thinly veiled comment about how rude it was to hang up in hurry, as though one couldn’t wait to be free of the other person’s presence.
See? This is another reason Ryder is a hard boss to work for. It isn’t just him I have to please, but a mother whose blood is bluer than the Pacific in winter. Probably just as cold too.
“Thank you.” Ryder is practically mooing with gratitude.
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t told you about your father’s email.”
He rolls his eyes. “Delete it. Not interested.”
“You sure? He mentioned something about paintings.”
That gets him to sit up straight. “What paintings? What did he say exactly?”
“Lemme see… Okay, here it is. Quote. You worthless sons of bitches better come to my new home in Virginia tomorrow at two p.m. or I’ll personally piss on your grandfather’s paintings. Unquote.”
“What the hell?” Red blotches appear on Ryder’s high cheeks, and his eyes go darker than normal.
The reaction fascinates me. I’ve seen him act angry in movies, sure, but I’ve never seen him respond like this in real life. Every inconvenience and annoyance is delegated and forgotten. He has a platoon of people dedicated to making his life as easy as possible.
But this… This doesn’t sound like something he can delegate and forget.
“What do you want to do?” I ask.
Ryder doesn’t answer for a moment. “No choice, I guess. I’ll have to go and confront him myself.” He presses his lips until they are thin and bloodless. “Get my pilot ready. I’m leaving tonight.”
I’ve really never seen him like this. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
He starts to get up. “You don’t have to come. Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
Like that’s ever stopped me from having to work. I give him a bland smile. “Yes, I do. I’m not letting you deviate from the agenda again.”
Chapter Three
Ryder
There’s no reason for Paige to come. She thinks me fucking a chick who can’t spell “asshole” is bad, but she hasn’t seen anything until she gets to witness Dad in one of his moods.
And honestly, I like her too much to subject her to this fuckfest, but she won’t relent. Maybe I should’ve gone to the rehearsal dinner…although I understand from Elizabeth that it ultra-sucked.
Damn family drama.
“You really don’t have to babysit me,” I say one last time as my private jet makes the final approach to northern Virginia. “Seriously. Check into the hotel and just chill for the rest of the day.”