Page 5 of Ryker

It smells like mildew and old cigarettes. The exterior wasn’t so bad because it was brick, but the inside is awful. I already know what my family will do with this place. They’ll tear it down. Level it. Turn it into a parking garage or something because they will not invest time and money to restore this place, even to turn it into luxury condos. It’s a fucking dump.

We follow Moira to the second floor and my heel catches on a loose tile causing me to stumble backward. Mr. Hudson catches my arm with lightning speed, saving me from almost tumbling down the stairs. “Thank you.” God, his grip is firm. Imagine what it would feel like as a necklace.

“Watch where you walk.” He lets go of me and tips his head at Moira. “Continue, please.”

“The owner has evicted everyone already,” Moira explains.

“People were still living here?” I can’t imagine. I’ve seen a half dozen code violations already and we’re still only on the steps.

“Not everyone can afford a home on the East side,” Mr. Hudson growls.

My blood runs cold. How the hell does he know where I live? Oh. Wait. My application to the Monarch has my address. Still, it’s weird that he’d have that memorized.

Should I be freaked out or flattered?

Focus, Tara.

“The architecture is lovely.” I mean it. This building might be a dump now, but it’s clear by the engraved banisters and decorated ceiling it used to be a stunner. Too bad no one maintained it properly. I slow down to read some of the profanity graffitied on the wall. Someone’s even carved You’re worth more than this into the windowsill.

I stare at the words, my heart dropping because it feels personal.

You’re worth more than this.

Am I? I make a lot of money with Brisbane Realty, but it comes at a cost I’m struggling to afford. My time, sanity, dignity, and energy are depleting fast. I hate my life. I hate what I’ve become. I hate that I’m here and I hate how it smells. My stepfather must be out of his mind to consider investing in this place. Or he was lied to about what a great property it is. Either way, it’s my night wasted.

Fuck.

“Let me show you the rooftop.” Moira pulls out a set of keys and we follow her up to what looks like a tetanus shot waiting to happen.

Mr. Hudson holds his hand out for me to take because there’s no way I can climb these steep steps without some help. My dress rides up my thighs and I’m pretty sure I just flashed him my panties. Shit. This is so unprofessional.

I dressed for a meeting outside the building, not a tour.

No, I dressed for a sex club, not a realty deal on the down low.

Mr. Hudson keeps his hand gently pressed to the small of my back as I keep up with Moira. For someone who’s my competition, he’s acting incredibly civilized. It makes what I’m about to do almost criminal.

“I’ve seen enough,” I say when we reach the outside rooftop that offers a phenomenal view of the glowing city. “My company, like Mr. Hudson, is also willing to make an offer tonight.”

Moira’s eyes light up.

“We’re willing to offer—”

“One million,” Mr. Hudson says, cutting me off. “My offer is one million.”

It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from hitting the fucking cement. That’s way too much for this property. Either he’s desperate or an idiot, yet something tells me Ryker Hudson is neither of those things. Just as he rolls his shoulders back, assuming victory, I knock him down a peg. “Two million.”

Oh. My. God. Talk about being a desperate idiot. What am I doing?

This place is a disaster. I had every intention of walking away and telling my family this place was a no-go, yet here I am, bidding way higher than any sane person would for this place. It’s too late for me to take it back. I’m fucked.

My competition turns to me, his expression stoic. Good god, he’s gorgeous. Dark hair clipped short and neat. Eyes a pale grey, like a storm with a little sunshine coming through. His mouth, so fuckable and kissable, gives nothing away as he stares down at me. Dressed in a pricey, cute little suit, he looks menacing and magnificent.

Mr. Hudson cocks his brow. “I don’t have time to get into a bidding war, Miss Reed. What will it take for you to walk away?” With his hands stuffed into his pockets, he steps into my space and has me by a good five inches. My breath quickens as his eyes bore into mine. “Name your price and consider it done.”

My heart slams to a stop.

Opportunities truly show up in the most unexpected ways.

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