Page 4

Chapter 4

Ryker

I pushed open the door to my apartment, the click of the lock echoing in the stillness. My place was the very definition of peace, meticulously designed to reflect order and control. The living room opened up with its sleek lines and monochromatic palette. A large leather sofa faced a state-of-the-art entertainment system, untouched bookshelves lining the walls. The glass coffee table was pristine, not a speck of dust in sight.

I tossed my keys into a designated dish on the console table, everything having its place. I moved through the space, each step measured. The kitchen gleamed with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. Even the barstools were perfectly aligned.

In the bedroom, I pulled out a fresh towel from the linen closet, its contents folded with military precision. The bathroom mirrored the rest of my apartment—spotless, with every item in its rightful spot. I turned on the shower, waiting for the water to reach just the right temperature before stepping in.

The hot water pounded against my skin, washing away the grime of the day but doing nothing to ease my mind. Paige’s face flashed before me, her wide eyes and confident smile from that damn sponsorship meeting. I clenched my jaw, anger bubbling up at how she’d handled it so effortlessly.

She was supposed to be inexperienced, na?ve even. Yet there she was, proving me wrong. And Leo Wolfe—the thought of him made my blood boil—chatting her up like they were old friends.

My hand pressed against the tile as I leaned forward, letting the water cascade over me. Despite my irritation, an unwelcome sensation stirred within me. Paige’s face morphed into something else entirely—her hair damp from rain during that one meeting outside, her lips parting as she laughed at something Wolfe said.

I hated it—how out of control she made me feel. My body reacted in ways I couldn’t command or suppress. It felt like a betrayal of everything I stood for: discipline, perfection, control.

She was Brendan's…

Had been… mine , even for a night.

Before all of this.

I shouldn't feel like this, but…

The more I tried to push her image away, the stronger it came back. My fingers dug into my palms as frustration mixed with something darker, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

I reached down, my hand tight as it found my cock. I tried to will myself to stop, to regain the control that seemed to slip further away with each passing second. But the more I resisted, the stronger the urge became. Paige’s face, her laugh, her damn confidence—they all merged into a whirlpool of desire and frustration.

My grip tightened, the sensation electric and unavoidable. I closed my eyes, images of her flooding my mind. Her hair, wet from the rain, clung to her face in messy strands. Her lips, curved into a smile that seemed almost too perfect, like she knew exactly how much she was getting under my skin.

I began to stroke myself, each movement an attempt to reclaim some semblance of control over my own body. But with every pump, I was dragged deeper into thoughts of her, into that night. I thought I had pushed everything away. I thought I successfully forgot… but I was a fucking fool. The way she had confidently handled the sponsorship meeting replayed in my head like a taunting reminder of her unexpected competence.

Her eyes—bright and full of life—seemed to pierce through my defenses. The sound of her voice echoed in my ears, teasing and challenging me in ways I couldn’t ignore. My strokes grew faster, more urgent as if I could somehow expel her from my thoughts through sheer force of will.

It wasn’t just her professional success that got to me. It was everything about her—her presence, her spirit—that made me feel so raw and exposed. She had a way of breaking down the walls I’d spent years building up, and I only knew her for a couple of days.

My breath hitched as I continued, lost in the fantasy of her. Paige’s laughter mingled with Leo Wolfe’s voice in a cruel symphony that spurred me on even further. My hand moved with desperate precision, chasing after a release that felt both inevitable and elusive.

Each stroke brought me closer to the edge, and yet further from the controlled image I’d crafted for myself. In that moment, I was stripped bare—no longer the perfectionist achiever but just a man caught in a web of desire and frustration.

My muscles tensed as I approached climax, every thought focused on Paige and how she made me feel so out of control.

I gritted my teeth as the orgasm tore through me, my body shaking with the force of it. The release was intense, almost painful, and I hated myself for it. I hated that she had this power over me, that she could make me feel so out of control.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, anger surged within me. I wanted to punish her, to ruin her for making me feel this way. I wanted to tear her down and prove that she was nothing more than an inexperienced little girl playing at being an adult.

I turned off the shower and stepped out, my body still trembling with residual energy. I grabbed a towel and roughly dried myself off, my movements jerky and angry. I couldn't believe that I had let myself get so carried away, that I had let her get to me like this.

I stalked into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, my mind racing with thoughts of revenge. I wanted to make her pay for what she had done to me, for the way she had made me feel. I wanted to show her that she couldn't just waltz into my life and turn everything upside down.

I paced back and forth across the room, my fists clenched at my sides. I could feel the anger building inside me, like a pressure cooker about to explode. I needed to do something, to release this energy before it consumed me.

I stopped pacing and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I knew that I couldn't let my emotions get the better of me, that I needed to be smart about this. I needed to come up with a plan, a way to take her down without making it obvious that it was personal.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and closed my eyes, my mind racing with possibilities. I could sabotage her work, make her look incompetent in front of the team. I could spread rumors about her, make her seem untrustworthy and unreliable. I could even try to seduce her, make her fall for me and then break her heart.

But as I considered each option, I knew that none of them would be enough. I wanted to hurt her, to make her feel the same pain and humiliation that I was feeling. I wanted to destroy her, to reduce her to nothing more than a shell of the confident, capable woman she had become.

I stood up and began pacing again, my anger growing with each step. I couldn't let her win, couldn't let her get away with making me feel this way. I would find a way to take her down, to make her pay for what she had done.

And as I paced back and forth, I knew I would stop at nothing to make it happen.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts that swirled through my mind. How ridiculous was I being? Paige was just another employee, nothing special. Just because she and Brendan had a past, just because we had one, didn't mean anything other than the fact that she was a bitch. So why was I fixating on her?

Because , a voice in my head whispered, she actually thinks someone like herself can make a difference. Because she's cheerful and ridiculous. She's had it easy her whole life. Someone needs to remind her that life is hard and she can't just run away when things get hard.

I scoffed at the thought, pushing it away as I headed to my living room. I flipped on the television, the familiar music of Hockey World Tonight filling the room. The two hosts, Mike and Dave, sat behind their desk, their faces illuminated by the bright studio lights.

Mike was the more laid-back of the two. He had a way of making even the most intense games seem like a casual conversation between friends. Dave, on the other hand, was all energy and enthusiasm. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he discussed the latest stats and predictions.

I sank into my leather recliner, trying to focus on last season’s game highlights that played across the screen. But my mind kept drifting back to Paige. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was a threat, that she was going to disrupt the careful balance I had created for myself. I saw what she did to Brendan, and she was supposed to have loved him. What would happen when she didn't want the team any longer?

I clenched my fists, frustration building inside me. Why did she have to be so damn cheerful all the time? Why did she have to believe that she could make a difference? It was infuriating, especially after what she did.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I watched the highlights. Preseason was set to start next month. I had been practicing all summer, ensuring I was still in shape. Considering I wasn't young any longer, not by the NHL standards, I needed to push myself harder than ever. Each season was going to be harder, and if I wanted to keep the C I had had for the last six years as a Serpent, I had to keep up with the onslaught of new competition.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair as the highlights came to an end. Mike and Dave began discussing the upcoming season their voices filling the room as I tried to focus on their words. But my mind kept drifting back to Paige, and the challenge she represented.

I knew I couldn't let her get to me. I had to find a way to keep her at arm's length, to prevent her from disrupting the careful balance I had created for myself. But how?

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. This was ridiculous. I was acting like a petulant child, fixating on someone who was nothing more than a minor annoyance. I needed to get a grip, to focus on the things that mattered.

But as I sat there, staring at the television screen, I couldn't shake the feeling that Paige was a threat. And I knew that I would have to do something about it, before it was too late.

"...out of Detroit, the Serpents have hired Paige Adams as an assistant GM," Mike said, his voice buzzing with excitement.

A picture of Paige flashed across the screen. She looked like fucking perfection, with blonde hair cascading in soft waves down to her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled with determination and intelligence. She wore a tailored blazer that fit her frame perfectly, exuding a blend of professionalism and approachability.

"That's right, Mike," Dave chimed in, adjusting his tie as he leaned forward. "Adams is known for her innovative strategies and strong leadership skills. This is a big move for the Serpents."

"Innovative strategies?" Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Some say she's got some radical ideas that might just shake things up."

"Radical can be good," Dave countered, his eyebrows raised. "Especially for a team like the Serpents. They've been stuck in their ways for too long, and with Mathers' abrupt departure, the team needs it if they want to be even considered being a Cup contender this year."

I gritted my teeth, my grip tightening on the armrest of my recliner. The last thing we needed was someone coming in and disrupting everything.

"You think she'll be able to handle the pressure?" Mike asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"She's got a solid track record," Dave replied confidently. "She turned things around for the Wolverines after a couple of scandals broke out. And she was only a college kid at the time. If she can bring that same energy here, who knows what she can achieve?"

"Well, she'll have her work cut out for her," Mike said, leaning back in his chair. "The Serpents aren't exactly known for their flexibility."

"True," Dave conceded with a nod. "But sometimes it takes an outsider to see what needs to change."

My jaw clenched as I listened to their discussion. They made it sound so simple, like she could waltz in and fix everything with a wave of her hand. But they didn't know the reality of our team dynamics, the intricacies of our relationships on and off the ice.

"We'll just have to wait and see how this plays out," Mike concluded, turning back to the camera. "But one thing's for sure—Paige Adams is going to make this season very interesting."

Dave nodded in agreement as they transitioned to another segment. I turned off the TV, frustration simmering beneath my skin. This wasn't going to be easy. Paige Adams was about to find out that stepping into our world required more than just a pretty face and good intentions.

But damn if she didn’t look like she belonged on that screen—poised and confident, ready to take on whatever came her way. I needed to stay sharp, not let her get under my skin any more than she already had.

I stood up from the recliner and wandered into the kitchen, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of Paige. The anger hadn't subsided, not entirely. I needed a distraction, something to keep my hands busy while I sorted through the tangled mess in my head.

I opened the fridge and pulled out some ingredients: eggs, spinach, cherry tomatoes. A quick omelet would do the trick. Despite it being the late afternoon, breakfast was something I could eat at any time.

I cracked the eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a practiced hand. The rhythm of the motion was almost soothing. I tossed the spinach and tomatoes into a hot pan, letting them sizzle before pouring in the eggs. The familiar smell of cooking filled the air, grounding me.

As I flipped the omelet, my phone buzzed on the counter. I wiped my hands on a towel and picked it up, glancing at the screen.

It was a text from Derek.

Bro, I didn't realize she dated your brother.

Fucking hell. Before I could tell him to stay on task, another text came in.

I think I found something. Give me another day to be sure.

I smirked, satisfaction curling in my chest. Derek was thorough; if he said he had something, then he had something. And that meant I was one step closer to getting rid of Paige.

I texted back quickly:

Good. The sooner we can handle this, the better.

Setting my phone aside, I turned back to the stove and folded the omelet onto a plate. The frustration that had gnawed at me earlier felt more manageable now, like I'd regained some semblance of control.

The kitchen fell silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. I took a bite of my omelet, savoring the mix of flavors—simple yet satisfying.

But it was nothing compared to the taste of what would be Paige's downfall.