She thought she knew what had happened.She thought she’d seen enough to judge him.And damn it, she was wrong.The sheer injustice of it roared through his veins, hot and relentless.
Forget her.The thought was sharp, almost convincing.If she wanted to jump to conclusions, fine.Let her.He didn’t need a woman who bolted at shadows.
Except… it was a lie, and he knew it.
He needed her.Wanted her.Not in the casual, fleeting way he’d wanted other women—Natalie had dug her way into his thoughts, his skin, his blood.The only way to shake her loose was to have her.To pull her into his arms, into his bed, and prove to both of them that this thing between them wasn’t some passing spark.
She had disrupted his world, and he didn’t like it.Last night, surrounded by women who would have happily followed him home, he’d felt nothing.Not even curiosity.No one came close to matching her laugh, her fire, the way she could meet his gaze without flinching.
With a slow, controlled breath, Rylan turned and walked back inside.The heavy door clicked shut, sealing him in with his decision.He was going to make this right—on his terms.
Monica was sprawled across his suede sofa, filing her nails as if she’d been born there.Her bright smile when she looked up made his irritation sharpen into something lethal.
“So?”she chirped.
“So?”His voice was a blade—sharp, cold.She actually blinked at the tone.
“What the hell were you thinking, Monica?”
“What do you mean?”She tossed the nail file onto the coffee table, feigning innocence.“I just thought we could go look at rings together.Engagement rings,” she added, smiling like she’d just delivered a gift.
His stare could have cut stone.“Engagement rings?”he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.“You must be out of your mind.”
Her smile faltered, then she tried to recover, pouting as she stood.“Come on, Rylan.We’re perfect together.I just thought—”
“There is no ‘we,’ Monica.”The words were steel, final, and without mercy.“There hasn’t been a ‘we’ for months.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he stepped in closer, his shadow falling over her.“I came back here to meet with a colleague, and I find you here—spinning lies about a relationship that doesn’t exist.”His tone dripped with contempt.“Get out.Now.”
“But Rylan—” she started, wobbling in her heels as he grabbed her bag and thrust it into her arms.
“Goodbye, Monica.”The door slammed behind her, the sound echoing through the empty house like a judge’s gavel.
For a long moment, the only sound was the tick of the wall clock and his own measured breathing.His hands flexed once, twice, as he forced himself into calm.
“You’re getting soft,” a deep voice drawled from the kitchen doorway.
Rylan’s head snapped up.Max stood there, leaning lazily against the doorframe like a man with nowhere to be—yet his eyes gleamed with a predator’s amusement.Even at rest, Max radiated the kind of quiet danger that made people instinctively step out of his way.
“Sorry about that scene.I had no idea that Monica was so…insane,” Rylan muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.The gesture did nothing to ease the tight coil in his chest.
Max smirked, pushing off the frame with unhurried precision.“She’s persistent,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door Monica had just been shoved through.
“Too persistent,” Rylan snapped, the words clipped enough to cut.
Max’s smirk deepened, his gaze sharp with knowing humor.“Women like her always are.They build their own fantasies and bulldoze reality to fit them.”
Rylan’s frown deepened, his patience fraying.“Thanks for the insight.”
Max chuckled—a low, rolling sound that grated on Rylan’s mood.“Anytime.Enjoy cleaning up the mess.We’ll have that drink another time.”
With that, Max strode out the front door, leaving behind a faint shift in the air, the way a storm leaves humidity in its wake.
Rylan exhaled through his nose, scanning the room like a battlefield.Monica was an annoyance.Natalie leaving?That was a wound.And if he didn’t cauterize it fast, it would fester.
He turned toward the kitchen, his mind already shifting into problem-solving mode.Max’s jab was dismissed instantly—Rylan didn’t get soft.Not for anyone.But when something mattered, he didn’t quit until it was his.
Malik and Aaron, two of his bodyguards, were waiting by the island—Malik with a mug of coffee, Aaron mid-call.Rylan’s gaze cut to Malik first.“How the hell did Monica get into my house?”
