Page 1 of Hate To Love You

Chapter 1

Ryker

The sound of my alarm blares in my ears as I lay in bed, refusing to open my eyes. I pull the pillow over my head and groan.

Fuck… it’s too damn early.

Tossing the pillow on the ground and rolling over, I grab my phone off the nightstand and turn the alarm off. 7:00am. It should be a fucking crime to wake up this early.

The bed shifts as the naked woman beside me turns over to face me. Her eyes flutter open and she stretches, her perky tits flashing me causing my cock to stand up.

I don’t normally do sleepovers, but I guess we fell asleep. I was drunk as fuck last night, and I barely remember even coming back to my room.

A tan arm lays on top of my waist as the girl kisses my neck. As much as I want to fuck right now, I have to get to class. I peel her arm off me and climb out of bed, grabbing my boxers off the floor and sliding them on. The girl groans and gives me the puppy dog eyes. Too bad that doesn’t work on me.

“Stay in bed with me,” she whimpers, tapping the empty space in my bed where I was laying ten seconds ago.

“Can’t. I’ve got a meeting. I’m going to shower. You can let yourself out.” The girl pouts and doesn’t make a move to get up.

“Well, will I see you again?” she asks, and I don’t miss the hopefulness in her voice. No, probably not.

“Sure,” I lie.

With that, I walk out of the room and head to the bathroom to shower, leaving the naked girl alone on my bed. Hopefully she’ll be gone by the time I get back. I let the hot water fall down my body as I stare up at the ceiling thinking of all the ways I can get out of this meeting today.

Meeting with Robert Steele is the last thing I want to do today, or any day for that matter. My father texted me last night requesting that I meet him this morning to discuss an important matter. He probably wants to tell me what a shit son I am and how disappointed he is that I haven’t chosen to follow in his footsteps no doubt. He could have just done that over the phone like he normally does.

My father and I have never gotten along. He’s an asshole who only cares about two things, money and power. He’s never given a shit about me, or my brother. He made that obvious when he chose his work over our family time and time again.

My mother begged him to spend time at home with us. She grew depressed as he distanced himself more and more and buried himself into work. I guess this was because my grandfather instilled in him that work was the most important thing a man has. Providing for his family was his duty, and if he could not do that, he was a failure.

Although, despite what my grandfather taught my father, he was the polar opposite. He was kind and loving, he treated my grandmother like a queen until the day she died. He never showed her anything but love and compassion, and even as a child, I recognized this.

My grandfather taught my brother and I more than my father ever could or was willing to. He would bring us to his office and let us run through the halls. He’d even chase us once in a while.

As we got older, he began teaching us about the business. The Steele Corporation was his baby, and he built it from the ground up to the multibillion dollar conglomerate it is today.

One day, as I sat in his office, the New York City skyline peeking through the huge windows and the scent of his cigars filling my senses, he told me I’d run the company someday.

“Someday, this whole corporation will be yours, Ryker. This is your legacy.” I smiled because I thought my grandfather was the greatest man in the world, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything different.

But when my grandfather fell ill, my father stepped up and took his place as CEO.

Growing up with my father was like trying to navigate my way through a long and winding maze of disappointment.

His words were constant reminders of everything I was doing wrong, and his actions were nothing short of cold. I longed for the loving dad I could have had, but all I got were cold stares and lectures on how I should try harder to be more like him.

His expectations were towering, impossible peaks that I could never climb. No matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough for him. Every achievement of mine was met with a dismissive wave, followed by a list of what I could have done better.

There were moments when I believed his fatherly love might break through the layers of bitterness, but they were fleeting. His love was conditional, a prize to be earned through constant flawless performance. But no matter how hard I tried, the goals kept shifting, and the prize always remained out of reach.

As I grew older, resentment settled in my gut like bad sushi. The pain of unmet expectations and constant criticism shaped me in ways I struggled to understand. I’ve carried the weight of his disapproval, questioning my worth at every turn.

Still now, twenty-two years later, I’m a disappointment, even though I’m going to this stupid school that he wanted me to go to, and have joined The Ellington Elite, despite my not wanting any part of it.

I let my shower run a little longer than I should have so I’m going to be late to our meeting which will only piss my father off and honestly, that’s what I’m best at so why stop now?

I wrap my towel around my waist, brush my teeth, and comb my hair before walking back to my room and noticing the naked woman still in my bed, sleeping. For fucks sake, did she not get the fucking hint earlier?

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