Page 56 of Bad for Business
I can’t handle the damage.
Last night, all I wanted was to ask Ryker to stay. I wanted him to climb into bed with me and sleep with his body next to mine. I never want that from a man. The last time I did, it was with him. And instead of feeling the rejection of waking up alone, I told him to go.
It’s probably for the best. He’s my client. If my dad knew I hooked up with someone who signs our checks, he’d be livid. I would absolutely have to kiss ever being a partner at the firmgoodbye. And that’s if he even let me keep my job. His biggest rule has always been to never mix business with pleasure. Our interactions with clients are supposed to be business transactions. We’re supposed to keep it professional, do our job, and get the paycheck.
And what I did last night was the furthest thing from being professional.
“Shit,” Ryker curses, walking straight into a bush on the side of the club. He attempts to push the limbs away, but one long, tall branch keeps smacking him in the face.
I fight a smile. He’s so drunk that he can’t even walk without running into something.
“Try taking a step back,” I offer, attempting to keep my voice composed. It’s hard to not let there be a sarcastic edge to my tone, but I know this isn’t the time or the place. Right now, I need to talk to him in a way that’ll get his ass in the SUV before anyone sees us.
I close my eyes for a moment, imagining one of the board members seeing Ryker right now. It’d be quite the sight. He still bats at the limbs of the tall bush instead of listening to me and backing up. I guess if they saw this, it could be worse. Between wrestling with a bush and spilling insider secrets about his family’s own company, something tells me they’d rather the bush.
“Ryker, back up,” I instruct, this time getting bossier. I tried leaving him be, but this is ridiculous. He needs to take a step back.
When he still doesn’t listen, I let out a long, frustrated sigh before closing the distance and grabbing onto his arm.
“This way,” I demand, keeping my grip on him tight.
He tries to pull out of it, but I don’t let him. I tug on his arm until he’s following behind me on the path that leads to the parking lot.
“Why do we always have to do things your way?” he mutters, his words still a little harder to understand than normal.
“Because the options were to do it my way or let you fight a bush for the rest of the night,” I snap. I’ve tried being patient with him, but my patience has worn thin. I tighten my hold on him and continue to pull him toward the SUV.
I’m ready to be back home.
And I don’t mean where I’m staying in the Hamptons.
Back home at my apartment with my own bed, my own routine, and most importantly, away from this man who is making my life complicated at every turn.
“I didn’t mean right now,” Ryker whispers. His arm slackens, making it easier for me to guide him where I want to go.
“Then what did you mean?” I ask, my tone exhausted.
“I mean all the time. It’s always ‘Do as I say, Ryker’ or ‘We can’t do this, Ryker,’” he says mockingly, clearly trying to imitate me.
We reach the parking lot, and I can’t help but frown when I notice there are more cars still here than I was expecting.
“Hold my hand,” I demand, letting go of his arm.
Ryker’s head whips in my direction. His bloodshot eyes are wide. “What? I’m not holding your hand.”
I sigh before forcibly taking his hand in mine. This way, I can make sure he doesn’t wander, and I can get him to the car. We’re so close to getting out of here. But with the parking lot being so busy, we could run into someone, and if we do, I want to be able to quickly pull him to the SUV without saying anything.
Holding his hand probably isn’t the best idea for professional reasons, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I guess I’d rather risk a board member seeing us hold hands than having them know Ryker got absolutely wasted tonight.
“Let go,” Ryker tells me. Luckily, he keeps his voice fairly low. I don’t want to bring any attention to us.
I spot his SUV. I just need him to cooperate for a little longer, and we’ll be in the clear.
“Almost there,” I snap, keeping my grip firm on his.
He tries to use his other hand to pry my fingers away, but I don’t let him.
God, what do we look like to anyone else out here? My eyes scan the parking lot, and by some miracle, I don’t see anyone else. But that could change at any moment. And right now, what they’d see is a wobbly Ryker attempting to rip his hand from mine as I continue to lead him toward our ride.
