CHAPTER FIVE

It's been so long since the last time Ryder had been in this house, before now.

He'd been just a boy the last time he'd stood in this hallway, staring at the pictures that lined it's length.

The years he'd spent growing up here were the memories he was trying to let go of, he hated them most.

Just like he hated Paul.

And he'd made sure the man knew how much.

His eyes ran down the pictures in their gold frame that cost more than an averagely priced car.

He'd left with a vow to never come back here but yet, here he was, breaking that vow because fucking Paul had decided to have one more up on him even in death by willing all his assets to him - the estranged son.

Not that he needed any of it, he was a fucking boss of his own now, but not dealing with this will only let it accumulate tax and come ass biting in the future.

It grated his nerves more, knowing that he should have been on a vacation at some exotic location of his choice now, like the Maldives, not here.

And instead, this was the vacation he drew, dealing with a deceased man's spite for him.

God help him, because he was going to blow every dime of this money on the things that his old man had hated the most, every one of them.

He continued down the hall and into the sitting room, a bottle of rum in hand.

While he sat and drank the anger and resent that has grown inside him for years away, his mind trailed to the girl from last night.

Her fascinatingly brown curls, doe eyes that kept him captive Everytime he looked into them, drawing him in for all the wrong reasons, lips so red they.......

The point is, he shouldn't have brought her here, shouldn't have interfered or gotten involved with her life in the first place or mixed himself with her problems.

Things can only get messy from here, he could swear on it.

He was attracted to her, there's no denying that, probably more than he's been to anyone in recent memory.

But he's not the kind of guy to settle or be tied to some woman and she looked the type to easily get attached to the idea of them and that will only make breaking things off at the end of their charade, hard.

He'd been clear when he'd told her 'no strings attached', he'd meant ever word of it too and she'd agreed but she looked like it'd break her if she tried and the idea of hurting her, more than she already was, didn't sit well with him.

He liked her probably more than he should a temporal fling.

Her defiance intrigued him probably because it's been so long since anyone has tried that with him, and so did that brave try at bossing him around his kitchen this morning.

She was different from the sobbing mess he's brought home with him last night and he liked the fiery spirit he spied in her now.

She had a sharp tongue in that mouth of hers he knew would keep this interesting for him.

Her mouth.

He didn't want to be thinking about that particular part of her anatomy but damn.

He could close his eyes and remember every dip and curve of her full lips with their Cupid's bow arc.

In a moment of madness last night, he'd come so close to covering the juicy looking, luscious pair with his own just to see if they were as soft as they looked or taste as sweet.

She had him in the one spot he didn't want to be caught dead in - wanting and unable to do anything about it. Yet!

She inspired thoughts and wants he had no business entertaining now.

Maybe his offer hadn't been selfless after all.

He wanted her, she must know it too with the way she pulls that coy, innocence act around him, and he intend to have her in the course of their revenge scheme.

Every which way possible.

She'll keep him distracted from the weight of the business he really have here, the ugly, scaring memories.

She was what he needed.

A distraction, his distraction.

The last time he'd seen her though had been after breakfast.

He'd stooped and kicked below the belt with that one comment, the reminder that she'd pleaded for him to take her because he'd been her last resort.

He shouldn't have, but he had.

Maybe she'd gotten cold feet and ran when he wasn't looking.

She'd be saving them both from themselves if she had though.

He didn't bother with his glass anymore as he closed his lips over the bottle in his hand and took a gulp of his drink, feeling the alcohol trail down, slowly fueling his system.

He didn't want to be here alone, the memories would come back if he did.

He could hear it somewhere in his head as he took more swigs, the voice of the boy he'd been, crying, screaming...... begging them to stop.

He wasn't that boy anymore.

It had taken years to get over it, and he'd done everything not to be that weakling that had had to watch, endure, cry, stay in pain, pray, while his father laughed and drank himself to a stupor.

He slammed the bottle he'd been drinking from against the wall of the room, suddenly unable to withstand the smell of the alcohol.

It reminded him of his father and times like this made him fear he was becoming the man that Paul had been.

He stayed in his seat, his eyes closed shut, his head throbbing with flashes he didn't want to have.

Fuck them all.

Fuck having a bastard like Paul in his life.

The man has ruined him and remains the sole reason he was averse to the idea of loving a woman and starting a family of his own.

May the Lord forbid that he birth a child of his own.

It scared him to think that he might turn to treat his woman and his seed like he and his mother had been.

They were the people Paul had sworn to protect after all.

He was too scarred and too scared to try being a husband or worse........a father.