Page 25 of Playing Pretend with Love and Billions

Shit. I left in such a hurry last night that I never finished the project I was working on. My guess is my father went to see if I emailed it over and realized I never sent it.

I wanted to show my idea of expanding our line to the board. My dad was kind enough to grant me some extra time to work on my proposal, then send over the work I did to revise it if needed. I’m sure he’s already been to my office this morning and seen all my research strewn across my desk, along with the unfinished proposal lit up on my computer.

Ava wraps her arms around me gently when I run a hand through my dark waves. Her warmth spreads through me, but only for a second when I remember what Alex did to her. He hurt her, but she never told me where.

I pull her arms off me and spin around, looking over her face and coming up blank. Her hand is covering her wrist and I gently pry it away. My entire face must change because she flinches away from me.

I try my best to mask my emotions, but I don’t have much luck. My growl is inevitable and instead of letting her see my rage, I lift my jacket from the chair and storm out of her room.

She doesn’t follow me, probably sensing that I needed to be alone for a second, and in minutes I’m out in the hall. The crunch of my fist hitting the wall outside the apartment is loud, but the pain is dull compared to the anger inside of me.

He fucking hurt her. There’s a bruise on her wrist because he grabbed her.

The door to the apartment opens slowly and Millie pokes her head outside. When she glances behind me at the hole in the wall her expression softens in silent question.

I only nod, then she shuts the door to leave me alone.

It takes a few deep breaths before I’m feeling okay enough to be around Ava. She was already around one angry person, she doesn’t need to be around another. I’ll go to the gym on my break and take my anger out on a punching bag. My hand is tingling, the pain catching up to me, but I only clench my fist and continue toward Ava’s room.

Her eyes are scrunched tightly together, her hand touching the back of her head and I quickly glance at the spot she’s holding. Nothing looks wrong, but the moment I touch her I feel the knot forming. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

She shakes her head quickly, eyes almost bugging from her head. “No. I’m fine. Please, just take me home?”

And that’s all it takes to completely obliterate my anger.Home.

I really shouldn’t like hearing that so much.

All of her bags are stacked by her bedroom door, so I reach for them as she leads me through the hall. Luckily, my car is still parked outside and I didn’t run the risk of getting it towed when I got here. I open the trunk, stuffing all her bags inside, before walking to her door and opening it for her. Her small smile is enough to have me giving her one of my own.

Even if she’s dissolved my anger, that still doesn’t stop me from hoping I run into Alex and get to beat him to death. My phone rings from my pocket and I answer it without looking at the caller ID.

“Ryan? The hell is going on with you, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

I sigh at my dad’s clipped tone, not wanting to get into this with him right now. “I’ll be a little late today and talk to you then.”

Instead of waiting for his response, I quickly hang up and slip into the driver’s seat. Ava rests her head against the window, staring out at the crowded sidewalk in front of her, and a hand clutches around her wrist.

The silence is deafening as I make my way to my penthouse. It takes longer than I’d like to get to the private garage, cruising to the top floor before pulling into an empty space.

Ava doesn’t say anything as she gets out of the car and heads straight to the trunk to grab a bag. Her eyes are on the ground as I join her, grabbing the rest of the bags, and the walk to my penthouse is met with the same silence as the car ride.

Alex’s career is over. I don’t care what I have to do to make sure of that.

Chapter13

Ava

Ihate that Ryan is being so careful with me right now, even though I know he’s only trying to be respectful of me. It’s been a week since I moved into his place and I’m slowly getting acclimated to the surroundings. His couches aren’t my favorite, being that I’m not a fan of leather, but I’ve made my mark throughout the rest of the house.

His house was just too plain, and I decided that the first thing I would do to make it more comfortable for me was to add my own little touches around the place. So far, I’ve added some colorful pillows to the couch and gotten some different scented wax cubes for his wax burner. It seems as though he only prefers one scent, and after a while, it becomes boring.

I purchased a painting the other day and hung it above the fireplace in his living room, an abstract piece with blues and greens throughout. He took one look at it, only cocking his head to the side before giving me a small smile and heading back toward his own room. While his room is on the left of the penthouse, mine is situated on the right side.

There’s a staircase that leads to a second floor where his office is located, along with a few guest rooms for when people come to visit. So far though, no one has been around to make much use of them. I snooped a little over the weekend while he was away on business, making it my mission to decorate the guest rooms with a more homey feel.

There are paint cans scattered around the rooms, each a different color than the other, but it’s all coming together beautifully so far. He came into one of the rooms the other day, offering to help me paint the wall I was working on. His shoulders seemed stiff while he helped me, and I realized that I might be doing too much to his space.

Since then, I’ve stuck to simple things. Some dish towels with fancy writing on them, new oven mitts, those kinds of things. He seemed less tense when I saw him yesterday after work, once he looked around the house and saw that I didn’t make any other drastic changes.

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