Awful, yes. But I was angry, and hurt, and desperate.
Fortunately for me, my actions had gone undiscovered and, over time, I grew out of such childish behavior.
But I’d never gotten over Ryker.
Unable to sleep, I climbed out of bed and went back into the living room. The freaking babysitter cagily gave me the side-eye from his comfy spot on the sofa. Stomping over to the mini bar, I prepped a gin and tonic, noisily dropping ice into the cut-crystal glass—only the best for Ryker.
“Mine’s a scotch.”
I turned around slowly, narrowing my eyes. “Good for you,” I drawled, my tone icier than the frozen water floating on top of my drink.
Don’t be a bitch, Athena. He’s only doing his job.
“Sorry.” I sighed, offering a faint smile. “I don’t mean to be rude.” I poured him a drink and took it over.
His smile came slow, his expression smooth and unconcerned with my spiky attitude. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I returned to the guest bed and climbed under the covers. As I sipped my drink, my chest ached from the vivid memories of the night that set me on this course to destruction. Ryker’s untimely presence in the very last place I expected to find him had forced me to face up to one stark fact: running hadn’t tempered my feelings for him one iota. The only option left open to me now was to accept the situation and live with the consequences.
Good or bad.
3
Ryker
I texted my driver on the way down to the lobby, instructing him to bring the car round front. By the time I exited the hotel, my car had arrived, the driver standing to attention with the rear door open. I unbuttoned my jacket, smoothed the front of my shirt, then slid onto the soft leather seat.
The drive back to the club didn’t take long. I entered via the same entrance as before, and the greeter gave me a broad smile.
“Back so soon, sir?” she asked in broken English.
I ignored her, jogging down the stairs. The smoke was even denser than earlier on, if that was remotely possible, the tar burning my throat and sticking to my skin, my clothes, my hair. How anyone stood being in here for more than a few minutes was beyond me.
After a cursory glance around, I rang Elliot. “I’m here. Where are you?”
“Room eight,” he replied.
“On my way.”
Close call. Athena and I had commandeered room seven. It’d have been interesting if she had screamed.
Athena. What the hell was I going to do with that girl? No, not girl. Not any longer. She was all woman. A fact I spent far too much time trying to ignore—and miserably failing.
Seven years, two months, four days since she’d crawled into my bed.
Seven years, two months, three days since I woke and acknowledged I’d betrayed my best friend.
Six months, five days since Athena left New York to go traveling.
Not that I was counting or anything.
Okay, that was a lie.
At least I hadn’t stooped to counting seconds.
Every time I recalled the cruel things I’d said after she’d snuck into my room and broken down the barriers I’d so carefully erected, I wanted to snap off my own dick. Sure, I’d been steaming drunk, but that was no fucking excuse. I’d laid the entire blame for what happened at her door when I’d been the adult. I should have realized what was going on. It was my responsibility to put a stop to the madness.
Everyone knew the unwritten code that fucking your best friend’s sister was completely off-limits. Elliot meant far too much to me to break that code—again—and I’d do anything to make sure he never found out I’d betrayed his trust.
But Athena…
I inwardly groaned. I’d tried to forget her, to gouge out the memories of how she’d felt when I’d been buried inside her by screwing pretty much anything that moved.
A futile effort.
These days, I’d more or less given up on women. I still went on the odd date. Sometimes the night would end with a fuck, oftentimes not, but even when I did have sex, it felt empty. A physical release rather than an emotional connection.
Pushing thoughts of Athena to one side, I rapped once on room eight and entered. Elliot was sitting on the bed, the girl on the couch, his jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Like a frightened rabbit, she started as I closed the door behind me.
“It’s okay,” Elliot said gently. “This is my partner, and the new owner, Ryker Stone. I mentioned him before, remember?”
She lifted her chin, her bottom lip wobbling, and pulled Elliot’s jacket closer around her shoulders as though it was armor. Perching on the arm of the couch, I smiled gently.
“What’s your name?” I asked, keeping my tone even, my voice low.
“Kaori,” she replied tentatively.
I cut my gaze to Elliot. “Get what we need?”
He nodded, although his jaw remained tight, and his lips were pursed in a firm white slash, a clear sign that whatever Kaori had shared about the running of this place had royally pissed him off.
“Okay, Kaori, here’s what’s going to happen. Elliot is going to take you to my car. It’s waiting outside. He’ll instruct my driver to take you home.”
She shook her head violently. “I need money. I must work. I have to work off debt to Mr. Tanaka.”
I swallowed past a thick throat. That fucker. My clubs may not allow touching, but it still took a certain kind of woman to cope in an environment full of rapacious men. I made sure that all the women who worked at any of the establishments under the Poles Apart brand knew the score and could handle the attention. We carried out psychiatric evaluations on all the dancers, vetted the applications for membership, had the place crawling with security. I owned a number of dance clubs in various countries, and we didn’t have trouble at any of them. Plus, I refused to hire anyone under twenty-five, women with the chops to hold their own if any of the clients did push too far. Kaori couldn’t be more than eighteen, if that.
I reached into my inside pocket and removed my wallet. Taking out a bunch of bills, I gave them to her. Her eyes lit up, but she didn’t take the cash.
“No charity.”
“It’s not charity,” I said truthfully. “I’m not a charitable man, Kaori. But I am a fair one. You’ve spent time with Elliot, giving him information. Here’s your payment.”
She bit her lip, then slowly, she reached out her hand, her fingers trembling as they closed around the bills. She slipped them into her bra.
“Thank you.” She raised her eyes to mine. “Do I still have job?”
“Yes,” I replied. “But a different job.”
“Different how?”
I hadn’t worked it out yet, but this girl wasn’t built for what I called close-up client work, even if she could dance. She didn’t have the edge, the mental strength, the ability to defend herself. She was all soft and gooey on the inside. I wasn’t, but there was something in her eyes that drew me in, that made me want to protect her. Perhaps a role behind the scenes in an administrative capacity could work.
I helped her to her feet. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.” I nodded to Elliot. “I’ll wait here.”