Page 15

Chapter 15

Paige

T he second Ryker left the office, I plopped down in my seat, needing to catch my breath. His gaze on my lips left a lingering heat that should have scared me… but it didn't. It excited me. I swallowed hard and turned to my computer, trying to focus on the task at hand. But my heart pounded in my chest, making concentration impossible.

Ryker. He haunted my thoughts like a specter refusing to fade. The truth gnawed at me—he remembered every detail of our encounter together. I knew it deep down, despite his cold exterior and harsh words. He'd pointed out viciously that it meant nothing to him, just one night lost in a sea of forgettable moments.

And yet...

I couldn't stop thinking about him.

His eyes, the way they bore into mine with a mix of anger and something deeper, something raw. His voice, low and commanding, that made my pulse quicken against my will. The memory of his touch sent shivers down my spine, stirring emotions I tried so hard to suppress.

I typed a few lines on the screen, barely registering the words. My fingers trembled on the keys, betraying the turmoil inside me. It was infuriating how much space he occupied in my mind. No matter how hard I tried to dismiss him as a mere distraction, he was more than that—he was a challenge I couldn't ignore.

My eyes darted to the door he'd just exited through, half-expecting him to storm back in with another cutting remark or intense stare. But the room remained empty, leaving me alone with my chaotic thoughts.

What did he want from me? Why did he act like he despised me one moment and then show flashes of protectiveness the next? His contradictions made it impossible to get a read on him, and it drove me crazy.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples in frustration. This wasn't like me—to be so consumed by someone else's actions and words. I prided myself on being composed and focused, especially in stressful situations. Yet here I was, unraveling over a man who seemed hell-bent on keeping me at arm's length while simultaneously drawing me closer.

No matter what happened between us, I had a job to do—a PR crisis to manage and a team to support. I couldn't afford distractions or personal entanglements right now.

I forced myself to take another steadying breath and resumed typing. Work would have to be my sanctuary from these tangled emotions. But even as I tried to immerse myself in the task at hand, Ryker's presence loomed large in my mind.

And no matter how much I denied it, part of me didn't want that presence to fade away completely.

I shook off the lingering thoughts of Ryker and turned my attention back to my laptop. The school district email had to go out tonight. It was critical to nail down the logistics for Ryker's back-to-school event, even if my mind was still swimming with questions about him.

My fingers flew over the keyboard, outlining the main points: proposed dates, estimated attendance, and possible guest speakers. I emphasized our desire to partner with local businesses and community leaders to make the event impactful for the students.

Once satisfied, I hit send and leaned back in my chair, allowing myself a momentary sense of accomplishment before diving into potential locations for the event. A sports store seemed like a no-brainer—somewhere vibrant and engaging that would resonate with kids and parents alike.

But what about clothes? Maybe a department store, if there were any still thriving in this digital age. It was worth exploring, given the need for school uniforms and supplies.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of a bookstore. There was something magical about a place filled with stories waiting to be discovered. It could add an educational angle to the event, encouraging kids to pick up a book along with their new sports gear.

I jotted down these ideas in my notes app, feeling a mix of excitement and determination. This event had the potential to be something special, something that would resonate beyond just a PR stunt.

A couple more emails popped up in my inbox—follow-up questions from vendors I'd contacted earlier that day. My excitement waned slightly as I clicked on each one. The queries ranged from mundane logistical details to overly cautious inquiries about budget constraints.

Annoyance bubbled up inside me as I responded to each email, answering questions I'd already addressed in previous communications. It felt like running in circles, but I couldn't afford any missteps at this stage.

Yes, we can accommodate additional signage , I typed out to one vendor, my fingers tapping harder than necessary on the keys. Please refer to the attached document for detailed layout plans.

Another email asked about insurance coverage for the event—a topic we'd already covered twice.

As mentioned earlier , I wrote, struggling to keep my tone professional, our insurance policy includes comprehensive coverage for all event activities. Please review the attached certificate for confirmation.

With each reply sent off into cyberspace, my irritation ebbed away bit by bit until only a sense of weariness remained.

I glanced at the clock—another late night ahead. But if it meant pulling off an event that would make a difference, then it was worth it.

Taking a deep breath, I focused back on my list of potential locations, ready to continue piecing together what could be Ryker's most successful community outreach yet.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling a momentary sense of accomplishment after sending off the last of the emails. The room was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of office cleaners going about their duties. I stretched my arms above my head, ready to call it a night.

My laptop pinged with a new email notification. I glanced at the sender—an unknown law firm. Curiosity piqued, I clicked on it and began to scan the contents.

Subject: Legal Action Notice—Richard Green v. Serpents Organization

Dear Ms. Adams,

We are writing to inform you that our client, Mr. Richard Green, has decided to pursue legal action against the Serpents organization for damages sustained during an incident at The Pour House on June 9.

Mr. Green was struck by Mr. Ryker Kane five times, resulting in significant physical injury and emotional distress. Despite initial medical attention provided by the arena staff, Mr. Green has experienced ongoing complications necessitating further treatment and rehabilitation.

As representatives of Mr. Green, we seek compensation for his medical expenses, lost wages due to his inability to work, and damages for pain and suffering.

Please find attached a detailed account of the incident, along with medical reports and an itemized list of expenses incurred to date.

We request that you acknowledge receipt of this notice within 10 business days and provide your response or willingness to discuss a potential settlement.

Sincerely,

Jocelyn Moore

Moore & Nelson

My mouth dropped open as I reread the email, anger surging through me like wildfire. This was the last thing we needed—a lawsuit threatening to drag our organization through the mud just as we were working to rebuild our image.

I felt my hands tremble with frustration as I opened a new email draft. Words flowed onto the screen as I began typing a response, fueled by a mix of indignation and disbelief.

Dear Ms. Moore,

While we deeply regret Mr. Green's unfortunate experience at The Pour House…

I paused mid-sentence, realizing that sending an emotional response could only make matters worse. My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I reluctantly hit Save Draft.

I needed to cool down before crafting a professional reply. This situation required careful handling, not knee-jerk reactions fueled by anger.

Closing my laptop with a sigh, I leaned back in my chair again and rubbed my temples. The PR fallout just got a whole lot messier.

Gideon wasn't going to be happy.

I could almost hear his voice in my head, stern and unyielding, as I stared at the email. This was a PR nightmare. If the Serpents settled out of court, it would look like they were admitting fault—something I believed the press conference covered. The incident was all Ryker. So, why not sue him directly?

Money.

It all came down to money. Suing the organization meant deeper pockets and a better chance of a substantial payout. Richard Green and his lawyers were playing the system, exploiting a moment of vulnerability to line their own pockets.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on my shoulders. Standing up, I stretched my arms above my head, trying to shake off the tension that had built up over the long day. My muscles protested, reminding me just how late it had gotten.

Gathering my things, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door. The office was nearly deserted, the cleaning crew moving methodically through the empty cubicles. Their presence was a comforting reminder that life went on, even in the midst of chaos.

Stepping outside, I was greeted by the warm embrace of summer air. The city buzzed with nighttime energy—cars honking in the distance, people laughing as they spilled out of bars and restaurants. For a moment, I let myself get lost in the sounds and smells of the night, grounding myself in reality.

I began walking toward my car, my mind still churning with thoughts of legal battles and PR strategies. It seemed like every step brought a new worry or challenge to tackle. But as I moved further from the office, those thoughts started to fade into the background.

The night sky stretched above me, stars peeking through patches of clouds. There was something calming about it—a reminder that no matter how overwhelming things seemed right now, there was a vast world beyond this momentary crisis.

As I approached my car, the night's calm seemed to wrap around me like a comforting blanket. The city's distant hum faded into the background, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My keys jingled in my hand.

"Paige?"

I jumped, spinning around to face the voice that cut through the silence. My heart pounded in my chest as recognition dawned.

Brendan.

He stood there, a tall and imposing figure, his eyes piercing through the darkness. His hair, dark and unruly, framed a face that held a mixture of intensity and determination. The way he looked at me sent a shiver down my spine, and I took an involuntary step back. He reached out like a viper and grabbed my wrist, like he was afraid I would turn and run.

Which I would.

No one else was around. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the emptiness of the parking lot only heightened my fear. My breath hitched as I met his gaze, trying to steady myself against the wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm me.

"You look..." Brendan's eyes roamed over me, taking in every detail. His voice was low, almost predatory, and it made my skin crawl.

"W-what do you want, Brendan?" I hated that I stuttered, but I couldn't help it. The memories of our last encounter were too fresh, too raw.

He took a step closer, his presence suffocating. "We need to talk," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

My mind raced, searching for an escape route. But there was none. I was alone with him in this deserted parking lot, and the weight of his gaze pinned me in place.

"Talk about what?" I forced the words out, trying to sound braver than I felt.

Brendan's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You know exactly what."

I swallowed hard, feeling the lump in my throat. Brendan's eyes bore into mine, demanding an answer I wasn't sure I could give.

"You owe me an explanation," he said, taking a step forward. "Why you left."

I drew a shaky breath, summoning the courage to face him. "You know," I replied coldly. "Besides the fact that you cheated on me with my best friend, what you did to me?—"

He cut me off, his voice rising with frustration. "What was I supposed to do? I heard you. You said his name?—"

I clenched my teeth together, my mind racing. Brendan's anger was palpable, and I knew better than to provoke him further. I'd seen firsthand what he was capable of when enraged. The memory of his fists, the pain—it all came rushing back.

"Brendan," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "You need to calm down."

His eyes flashed with anger, and he took another step closer, invading my personal space. "Calm down? How can I calm down when you betrayed me?"

"Betrayed you?" My voice wavered as I fought to keep control. "You were the one who hurt me."

His face twisted with rage, his fists clenching at his sides. "Don't turn this around on me," he spat. "I loved you, Paige."

I took a step back, needing distance from his overwhelming presence. "If that's love," I said quietly, "then I don't want it."

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might strike out in anger. But instead, he took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper.

"You think you're better off without me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"I know I am," I replied firmly.

His jaw tightened as he glared at me. The tension between us crackled like electricity in the air.

"You're making a mistake," he warned.

I stood my ground, refusing to be intimidated. "The only mistake was staying with you for as long as I did."

His grip on my wrist tightened, and I winced at the sudden pain. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but his hold was ironclad.

"This isn't over," he hissed, his breath hot against my face.

"It has to be," I replied, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound strong. "Don't ruin your life."

"How can I?" he spat back, his eyes burning with anger. "You already ruined it."

The words stung, but I refused to let him see how much they affected me. "You need to let go, Brendan," I said firmly, trying to steady my voice. "This won't solve anything."

He sneered, his grip tightening even more. "You think you can just walk away from this? From me?"

"I don't have a choice," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "You gave me no choice."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—regret? Pain?—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, hard glare.

"You think you're better than me now?" he asked, his voice dripping with venom.

"No," I answered quietly.

Brendan's face twisted with rage, and I could see the struggle within him—the battle between letting go and holding on. His fingers dug into my skin, and I bit back a cry of pain.

"Brendan," I hissed through my teeth. "Let. Go."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I feared he might lash out. But instead, he loosened his grip just enough for me to yank my wrist free.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "But don't think this is over."

I took a step back, putting some distance between us. My wrist throbbed where he'd held it too tightly.

"It has to be over," I repeated softly. "For both our sakes."

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned and walked away into the night, leaving me standing there in the parking lot, shaken but resolute.

I watched until he disappeared from sight before finally letting out the breath I'd been holding. The weight of what had just happened settled over me like a heavy cloak.

But despite the fear and uncertainty that still lingered, one thing was clear: I had made the right choice.

But I couldn't help but wonder… had Ryker set this up? With this some kind of revenge?

I shook the thought off and unlocked my car. I needed to get home before Brendan did something stupid and came back.