Page 11

Chapter 11

Paige

T he office was a sea of silence, long past the hours when most had headed home. My inbox pinged incessantly, each new email a reminder of the press conference earlier that day. Questions and follow-ups poured in, an unending stream demanding my attention. I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping in but pushed it aside. Getting this over with tonight meant a smoother morning.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen as my fingers hovered over the keyboard. The clock on my desk read 10:45 PM. Another ping. Another email. Sighing, I clicked it open and began to type a response.

" Ms. Adams, can you clarify Ryker's stance on the new sponsorship deal? " one journalist had asked.

I crafted a careful reply, making sure to toe the line between transparency and corporate diplomacy. It was delicate work—saying just enough without giving too much away. As I finished one email, another three took its place. It was like trying to empty an ocean with a teaspoon.

My phone buzzed beside me, pulling me out of my focused haze. A text from my best friend, Daphne:

Hey, still at the office? You've got this. Kane is an ass, but what a fine ass. Damn!

I smiled faintly at her concern and replied:

Just wrapping up some loose ends. Thanks for checking in!

Shifting in my seat, I returned to my emails. The cursor blinked back at me, waiting for the next string of words. I glanced at the pile of papers on my desk, various notes from the day's meetings scattered like confetti after a parade.

As I clicked send on yet another reply, a shadow fell across my desk. I looked up to find Ryker standing there, arms crossed and brow furrowed. The overhead light cast shadows that accentuated every muscle. In his workout clothes, he looked like something carved from stone—broad shoulders tapering down to a lean waist, his arms rippling with defined muscle. His hair, damp from what must have been an intense session, clung to his forehead in dark strands. My eyes lingered on the strength of his forearms, the way the veins stood out as he crossed them over his chest.

I felt a tingling sensation low in my pelvis, an unwanted and inconvenient reaction. I quickly pushed it away, straightening in my chair and forcing my focus back to the work at hand. This was not the time for distractions, no matter how infuriatingly attractive they might be.

"You're still here," he observed, his voice lacking its usual bite.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to keep the surprise out of my tone. "Figured I'd get ahead of these emails."

He didn't move, just stood there watching me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

"You should go home," he said finally, softer than I'd ever heard him before.

"I will," I promised, "Just need to finish this last batch."

His eyes flicked to the screen then back to me. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something more but held back.

I looked up at Ryker, confusion etched on my face. "What?"

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "Why did you leave?"

I opened my mouth to respond but then shut it again, sensing the weight of his question. He wasn’t referring to today or yesterday. He was talking about the wedding.

"Look," I began, choosing my words carefully, "What happened between me and Brendan has nothing to do with you."

"That's not what he seems to think," Ryker shot back.

I straightened in my chair, a cold knot forming in my stomach. "What?"

Ryker looked away, his jaw clenching so hard I thought I heard his teeth grind. It was clear he didn’t want to have this conversation any more than I did.

"Ryker," I said, forcing calm into my voice, "What the hell do you know about it?"

He glared at me, the intensity in his eyes cutting through the dim light of the office. "What happened between you two?"

"It's nothing I'm going to speak about," I replied, slowly standing up and squaring my shoulders. "Especially not to you."

"Does he know?" Ryker pressed.

I pressed my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. The silence stretched between us, taut and suffocating. Memories I had buried long ago bubbled to the surface, unbidden and unwelcome.

That night.

It had been before Brendan, before I knew who Ryker truly was. He had come to speak at the college, and I was just an eager intern in the sports management program at U of M.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

But even now, I couldn’t forget how he felt, how he swept me off my feet with his confidence and raw magnetism. He had been my first.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice low and cold.

Sometimes, I wished he would scream.

“I…” My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. The reasons I fled from Brendan twisted in my mind like a knife. Promises whispered in the dark, secrets sworn to be kept. Family was everything, Brendan always said.

And me? I was just a one-night stand for Ryker, a notch on his bedpost. And I wasn't family to Brendan. I was a serious girlfriend, sure, but I wasn't his brother. I wasn't blood.

And that was fine until I started dating Brendan. By the time I realized Ryker was his brother, it was too late. There was no way I would come between them. So, I wasn’t going to tell. And Ryker? When we met again, he didn’t even seem to recognize me.

“You remember that night?” My voice came out steadier than I felt inside.

Ryker’s eyes flickered with something—recognition, maybe? It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual guarded expression.

“Don't be stupid.” His words were clipped, almost mechanical. "I remember."

My heart pounded in my chest as silence enveloped us once more. The air felt thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

“What does it matter now?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded in the vast emptiness of the office. "Why I left. I left. That's it."

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “It matters because…,” he paused as if searching for the right words but ultimately shook his head. “You’re hiding something.”

“And you’re not?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

His jaw tightened again, but this time there was something else—pain? Regret? It was gone before I could be sure.

“We all have our secrets,” he muttered, finally breaking eye contact and turning away slightly. “Just don’t let yours ruin everything.”

I stood there for a moment longer, trying to decipher what he meant by that last statement. But as usual with Ryker Kane, clarity remained just out of reach.

“Is that why you’re asking about Brendan?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Maybe I need to know if you cheated on him with that coach?—”

“And even if I did, why would you care?”

“Because he’s my brother?—”

“The brother you never speak to?” My voice rose, the frustration bubbling over. “I was with him for eighteen months, Ryker. You saw him maybe three times.”

“He’s still my brother,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl.

“Fine.” I threw my hands up. “Then let it be.”

“Would that I could,” he muttered, his eyes flicking to the side. “He saw the press conference. He wants to see you.”

Fear gripped me, a cold shiver running down my spine. I straightened, forcing myself to stay composed.

Ryker’s eyes narrowed as he watched me carefully.

“That’s nice,” I said, injecting a note of nonchalance into my tone. “I have no interest in seeing him.”

Ryker took a step closer, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “You can’t give him closure?”

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to scream. “What makes you think I haven’t?” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “You make a lot of assumptions for someone who was never around.”

“I know Brendan better than you think.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you barely know him at all. You’ve been absent for most of his life.”

“That’s not fair,” he snapped, taking another step closer. “I had my reasons.”

“Yeah, well, so did I,” I shot back, refusing to back down. The space between us felt charged, like a storm about to break.

His eyes darkened. “What happened between us?—”

“Was a mistake,” I interrupted, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay composed.

Ryker’s expression hardened, and he took another step forward until we were almost nose to nose. “Don’t lie to yourself, Adams.”

“Lie to myself?” I scoffed, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been lying to yourself your whole life, pretending that being perfect is all that matters.”

“That’s not—” he started, but I cut him off again.

“And now you’re here trying to play the protective brother? Give me a break.” The anger bubbled over, years of suppressed emotions rising to the surface.

Ryker’s face contorted with frustration. “You don’t know anything about me or what I’ve been through.”

“Oh, please,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. “I know enough to see through your act. You think pushing everyone away makes you strong? It just makes you lonely.”

He recoiled as if I’d struck him, and for a moment, the silence between us was deafening.

“You don’t get it,” he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” I said softly but firmly. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t get it.”

The air crackled with tension as we stood there in silence once more. Ryker's eyes bore into mine with an intensity that left me breathless. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it again, shaking his head slightly.

"Fine," he muttered eventually.

"Ryker," I said, swallowing hard. "I will not see your brother. Do you understand?"

He gave me a long, searching look. The kind that made me feel like he could see every secret I’d ever kept.

"I know how you work," I continued, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay firm. "You might surprise me. You might schedule something under a false name. Don’t make me..." I let my voice trail off, hoping he’d catch the gravity of my plea.

He lifted a brow, a challenge in his eyes. "What?"

"Just don’t," I asked, my tone softening. Then, almost in a whisper, "Please."

His gaze flickered with something—maybe understanding—before he looked away and stepped back.

"You should leave," he said abruptly.

"Just let me finish?—"

"I mean now," he insisted, grabbing my wrist. "It's almost eleven."

I glanced at his hand gripping me tightly. "You're still here," I pointed out, ignoring the discomfort building in my wrist. His grip was firm enough to bruise.

He looked away again, his jaw clenched. "That's different."

"Ryker," I said softly, rolling my eyes despite the pain shooting up my arm. "You're hurting me."

He looked down like he’d forgotten he was holding me and quickly released his grip. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was going to apologize, but then he closed it again, leaving the words unspoken.

I rubbed my wrist, the skin already reddening from where his fingers had pressed into it. The room felt even quieter now, the hum of the fluorescent lights above us suddenly louder than ever before.

“Come on,” Ryker said, his tone edged with impatience.

I blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What are you?—”

“Do I have to spell everything out for you?” he cut in sharply. “It’s eleven.”

“Okay,” I replied, standing up from my chair.

He grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair and thrust it at me with an almost violent urgency.

“I’m walking you to your car, you stupid girl,” he snapped.

I stared at him, caught between feeling insulted and a strange sense of gratitude that he cared enough to insist. It was hard to tell with Ryker whether his actions stemmed from genuine concern or just his need for control.

“And if I tell you I don’t need you to walk me to my car?” I asked, tilting my head slightly in defiance.

“I’d tell you you’re stupider than you look,” he growled, eyes darkening.

I slid the jacket on, feeling the warmth of the fabric envelop me. “I do not look stupid,” I muttered under my breath.

He ignored my comment and gestured toward the door with a curt nod. I gathered my things and followed him out of the office. The hallway was dimly lit, our footsteps echoing in the stillness as we made our way toward the exit. The weight of our earlier conversation hung heavily between us, unspoken words swirling like ghosts in the air.

As we stepped outside into the cool night, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Ryker’s presence beside me was both comforting and unnerving, a paradox I couldn’t quite reconcile. The parking lot stretched out before us, mostly empty except for a few scattered cars glinting under the streetlights.

We walked in silence, the tension between us palpable. Despite everything, I found myself glancing at him from time to time, wondering what thoughts lay hidden behind his stoic facade. He seemed so unreachable, so determined to keep everyone at arm’s length.

Finally reaching my car, I fumbled with my keys for a moment before unlocking it. I turned to face him one last time before getting in.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, not entirely sure what I was thanking him for—his insistence on walking me or something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

He nodded once, his expression unreadable. “Just get home safe,” he murmured before turning on his heel and walking away into the night.

I watched him go, a mixture of emotions swirling within me as I climbed into my car and drove off into the darkness.

I just hoped he would listen to me about Brendan. The mere idea of facing Brendan again sent a shiver down my spine, knotting my stomach with anxiety. Memories of our time together, the good and the painful, flitted through my mind like ghosts. If he were to show up now, I wasn’t sure how I’d react or what I’d even say to him. The wounds were still fresh, barely scabbed over, and seeing him might tear them open again in the worst way.

I shuddered at the thought and got into the car.

The past had a way of lingering just beneath the surface, ready to resurface at the slightest provocation. All I wanted was to move forward without dragging those old pains along with me.