“I may have left you behind, Zeta, but I never forgot about you,” he begins explaining, lacing his fingers more firmly in mine. “Once the band made it, and the money started rolling in, I had the resources to keep an eye on you.” He stops in front of me, linking both my hands in his. “You’re probably gonna freak the fuck out when I tell you this, but please believe me when I say everything I did was done to keep you protected.”
“What did you do, Ryder?”
“I’ve kept tabs on you over the years. I wanted to know you were happy. And that you were safe. When you moved to New York, I panicked, because I knew Ren showed up every three months to collect money from me, and there was a good chance he was living in the city. So, I hired bodyguards to follow you.”
“Bodyguards? As in plural?” My eyes almost bug out of their sockets.
He nods. “One to watch over you during the day and one to protect you at night.”
“I … that’s … how did I never notice?” I finally exclaim.
“Because these guys are good at their jobs, and they’re paid to blend into the shadows.”
I slip my hands out of his, dragging them through my hair as I contemplate exactly what this means. “And they, what, like reported to you about me?”
He nods, at least having the decency to look ashamed. “Mike got weekly reports, which he shared with me.”
Planting my hands on my hips, I glare at him. “What was in these reports, Ryder? And don’t even attempt to lie to me.”
He cringes a little. “Summaries of your daily routines, places you visited, people you hung out with…” He trails off, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts, waiting for me to erupt.
“Oh my God! You got reports on the men I was having sex with?”
“I needed to know you were safe. He’d threatened you, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try and hook up with you,” he murmurs.
I prod my finger in his chest. “Don’t give me that crock of shit. If you were that worried about Ren, I’m sure all the bodyguards at least had a description of him.”
“They did,” he freely admits, “although none of them knew who he was or why he was a threat. Mike included. No one knows about Ren but you.”
A thought lands in my mind, and my jaw hangs open as realization dawns. My eyes pop wide and my fists ball up at my sides. “That’s why you went apeshit on Gus the other night! You knew who he was! You knew I’d slept with him!”
“Don’t fucking remind me.” He scowls. “But yes, that’s why I went for him. The thought of any guy putting his hands on you infuriates me.”
“You’re a damn hypocrite!” I roar. “The notches on my bedpost fail miserably in comparison to yours, and I’ve had to watch media reports of your conquests for years! You even flaunted that fucking whore in front of me at the after-party, and I didn’t go after her in the way you went after Gus.”
He doesn’t need to know I thought about it.
“I’m sorry, Zeta. Attacking Gus was completely out of line. But I’m not going to apologize for wanting to keep you safe.”
“It’s a huge invasion of my privacy!” I fling my arms into the air, completely conflicted. One part of me loves that he’s just proven his words. That I know, categorically, how much he’s cared for me during the period of our separation. That he’s gone to so much trouble and expense to keep me protected speaks volumes. But there’s another part of me that sees this as borderline stalking, and I’m not comfortable with it.
“I don’t see it like that. I just wanted to know you were okay, and it helped me feel closer to you. I liked knowing about your life.”
“This is so fucked up.” I sigh, scrunching my hands in my hair again. “Please tell me this is it. That there are no more secrets you’re hiding from me.”
He shuffles nervously on his feet, and ice replaces the blood flowing through my veins. “What else, Ryder? What else don’t I know?” I wrap my arms around my torso, instinctively protecting myself.
“I paid off your mortgage. The monthly payment you deposit goes into a savings account. And I’m an investor in your aunt’s business.”
My jaw drops to the floor. Before I can respond, he adds, “Oh, and I paid off Louise’s debts last month, bought you a new car, which I was going to give to you as a surprise, and I, ah, put ownership ofRockOutinto your name.”
“You did what?” I shriek.
“What the hell do I want with a magazine?” He shrugs, like it’s no biggie. “You’re the writer, not me. And I was going to tell you all this when the time was right.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Please tell me you had nothing to do with me getting my job atRockOut, because, I swear to God, if you’ve manipulated my career, I’m out of here.”
He vehemently shakes his head. “I had absolutely nothing to do with that. You won that job on your own merits. I would never interfere like that. I just tried to ease the burden on you, that’s all.”
