“You’re not alone this time.”
“Shit. My clothes,” I whisper. “They’re on the couch. Inside. Where he is.”
“Wear mine. My shirt is long enough to cover you.”
We exit the water, our feet slapping against the wet patio. I pull on Ryder’s black T-shirt, it falls to mid-thigh, offering some semblance of modesty. Ryder tugs on his jeans, leaving his chest bare. We’re both soaked, water dripping from our bodies and forming puddles at our feet.
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. “We look ridiculous. You’re shirtless, I’m pantless, and we’re both dripping wet. This is how I’m going to face my father, the big CEO, and tell him I love you.” The absurdity of the situation hits me full force, and I’m caught between laughter and tears.
Ryder’s smile is tight, not reaching his eyes. “I’m here with you,” he says, intertwining his fingers with mine. His grip is firm, anchoring me. “Always with you.”
We enter the house, our wet feet leaving a trail on the polished hardwood floors. Ryder’s hold on my hand tightens as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. Or maybe he’s the one who needs the reassurance.
My father stands there, his back to us. The set of his shoulders radiates disapproval, and I shrink under the weight of it. I swallow hard, steeling myself for the confrontation to come.
I close the glass door behind us with a soft click, and he turns around. The room seems to grow colder under his icy gaze.
His jaw clenches, and his blue eyes—so like mine—blaze with a fury I’ve never seen before. He runs a hand through his silver hair, his gaze fixing on our joined hands. Ryder’s fingers loosen, ready to let go, but I tighten my grip. No. We’re in this together.
“I want to talk to you alone,” Dad says, his gaze shifting between Ryder and me.
I lift my chin, summoning every ounce of courage I possess. “You can talk in front of him.”
“As you wish.” He shakes his head. “What the hell are you doing, Cora?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I counter, my voice trembling despite my attempt at defiance.
Dad’s face contorts, a mixture of anger and concern. “To me, it looks like you’re throwing your life away,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Your legacy.”
“Not everything revolves around you, Dad,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I love Ryder. I’m in love with him.”
Dad’s eyes soften for a moment, and I see a flicker of thefather I remember from my childhood. But it’s quickly replaced by steely determination. “You don’t even know him, Cora. Look at yourself, standing here half-naked, and him too.” He gestures at Ryder, who remains still beside me, coiled tension clear in every line of his body. “He’s taking advantage of you. Exploiting your status, your money, your vulnerability.”
Ryder shifts beside me, ready to defend himself, but I place a hand on his chest, pleading with him to let me handle this. “No, Ryder,” I whisper. His muscles flex under my palm, ready to spring into action but as I requested, he doesn’t speak.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s nothing like that,” I tell Dad, shaking my head. “I didn’t see you having a problem when Logan was dating his employee. Or is it because I’m a woman?”
Dad’s face darkens. “Logan paid the price for his behavior. He nearly lost everything.”
I twist my mouth, bitterness seeping into my words. “He got the love of his life. Is there anything more important than that? Just because things didn’t work out with Mom doesn’t mean my relationship is doomed.”
Pain flashes across Dad’s face, then is masked by anger. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. This man,” he says, jabbing a finger at Ryder, “will leave you without a second thought when his assignment is over. He will break your heart. Is that what you want for yourself?”
I wince. He hits right on target, as always.
He takes a step forward, and Ryder mirrors the action. I stand between them, arms outstretched, like a human shield. The tension in the room is palpable, crackling like electricity in the air.
“I won’t allow this,” Dad says through gritted teeth. “Cora, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. What do you really know about him?” He turns to Ryder, eyes blazing.
“I know everything I need,” I insist. “He’s good to me, and that’s what matters. I’m an adult, Dad. You can’t control my life anymore.”
Dad’s face hardens. “I can’t control your life, but I can control what’s mine. And I want him gone from this house. Now.”
“I’m the one who lives here,” I argue.
“And I’m the one who paid for it,” Dad counters.
“I don’t need your money. I have my business.”
