I frown. “About?”
“You.”
Crossing my arms, I lean against the wall across from him. “If there’s anything she wants to talk to me about, she knows my number.”
“Yeah, well. I thought I should do this face-to-face.”
I keep my mouth shut and wait for him to go on.
“Nothing happened at the strip club,” he says.
My lips curve. “Riiiiiight.”
“Look, Ryder wanted to talk, I was already there, and I didn’t want to leave. So he came by.”
“Regular bars not good enough for you guys?” I say, uncrossing my arms.
“You know about the deal with our father, don’t you?”
I nod. No point in being coy with him.
“I thought so.” He taps his lips like I’ve just confirmed something important for him. “Then you know I need to marry too.”
“And how does that relate to the strip club?”
He frowns and smiles at the same time, like you do when someone doesn’t get an obvious joke. “I’m looking for a wife.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His announcement has short-circuited my brain.
Now he actually laughs. “You haven’t heard?”
“No.” I blink. “But why? You could have anybody you want.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why I want a stripper. Besides, it’ll be more fun this way. You watch.” He winks.
Then it hits me. Why he’s doing this—it’s to show to his father that he can’t be controlled. I snort a laugh. “You are terrible.”
“Thank you. I try very hard.” He grows serious. “Paige, why are you making this more complicated than it needs to be?”
I sigh, then shake my head. “Ryder doesn’t trust me.”
“And? So what? It’s only for a year. I’m certain my brother offered more than enough to make up for a year of your life, and he’ll take care of the baby as well.”
Elliot’s right. I know that. But I need Ryder’s trust if I’m going to do it. It’s the least I want from him, and I don’t even know how to articulate that so I don’t end up sounding like a whiner.
“If you have…feelings for him, you should tell him,” Elliot says, his eyes gentle and understanding. “He doesn’t do well with games.”
“Like that woman.” The bitter words tumble out of me before I can stop myself.
“Yeah. Like Lauren. But that was a long time ago. Even if she left scars, that doesn’t mean he’s unsalvageable.”
We talk for a while longer, but don’t make much progress. Elliot finally gets up. “I’ll show myself out. Just think about what I said…but if you really aren’t going to go through with the wedding, tell him now. He’s going to need to come up with a contingency bride.”
* * *
Ryder
If I had things my way, I would’ve been up and out early this morning. Started drinking early, too, because alcohol is great for making me feel less bad about the crap in my life.
But Elliot isn’t answering my calls. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he’s avoiding me. But why? He never does that. It’s got to be Elizabeth getting in the middle of things. She can be pretty meddlesome when she puts her mind to it.
I’m already feeling like shit. Guilty shit. I shouldn’t have told Paige that walking away meant it was over. She might’ve spent the night with Renni or Bethany and come back after cooling off a little. But I made it clear she couldn’t come back…not unless she wanted to grovel.
Sighing, I rub my forehead. Fucking Anthony. The history between us—and knowing that he’s plotting something—brings out the worst in me. It’s like I can hardly think or speak rationally. For some reason, Paige refuses to believe Anthony is dangerous. But he’s made it clear to me that he’s going to pay me back for Lauren. It doesn’t matter that she played both of us, did drugs…or that the Mexican authorities ruled her death an accident. He holds me responsible.
And I can’t fault him for that. I just wish he’d come after me, not the people around me.
Elizabeth’s already at the table by the time I go downstairs for a late lunch. She’s in a bright red sundress that makes her look like a cardinal. The chef has made a salad, some garlic bread and cheese lasagna, and the housekeeper placed it all on a raised platform like an offering to the gods. My staff isn’t stupid. They know what’s happening, which is why we’re having my favorite for lunch.
The second I take my seat, Elizabeth says, “You made a big mistake.”
“You say that about everything I do.”
“This time is especially bad. You know Paige didn’t release that sex tape.”
“It’s not about the damn tape.” I lean back in my seat. The lasagna suddenly looks about as appetizing as a brick on my plate.
She puts her fork down. “Then what is it?”
“She’s in a snit over those flowers. The ones from Anthony.”
She narrows her eyes, pursing her mouth. It’s her I know you look. “You threw them out, didn’t you?”
“The vase broke. What was I supposed to do?”
“Reeeeaaaaally?” She drags the vowel out. “How did that happen?”
I get up and get myself some scotch. If I can’t eat, I’m going to drink. “The housekeeper knocked it off the table,” I mutter.
“Ryder, what are you doing? Channeling Grandma Shirley?”
The name raises my hackles. You aren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead, but she’s an exception. The woman was positively evil. “I’m nothing like her.”
“Let’s see.” Elizabeth raises a hand and starts counting on her fingers. “Proud. Autocratic. Determined to get your way no matter what. Don’t care that much about what others think or feel. Opinionated.” She switches to her other hand. “Highly unlikely to change your mind about anything. Think you know better than the people around you… Shall I go on?”
My face warms at the list. She’s not entirely wrong. I can be pretty autocratic, and I rarely take no for an answer. But anybody who’s successful wouldn’t, for god’s sake.
“Instead of turning your relationship with Paige into a media circus, just call the wedding off. That’s the best you can do for everyone.”
“You don’t know jack shit,” I say.
“I know there’s less than three weeks left before the ceremony.” She sips her white wine. “And I know Paige is under a lot of pressure that has nothing to do with that tape.”
“What pressure?” Maybe Paige told her something earlier.
“Don’t you check social media?”
“Of course not. Why would I?” I have accounts, of course, but they’re managed by pros. I only share a few photos if I ever feel like it, and I prefer to stay away from people as much as possible. Give them a taste, and they want to devour you. I’m not doing that, and I don’t need to hustle to cultivate a fan base or be authentic or whatever the hell the so-called gurus recommend. I’m already a star.
“You should. It’s ugly for Paige, and unlike you, I bet she doesn’t have people taking care of that for her.”