Page 60 of Ruthless Rebel

I can tell she thinks I don’t want her. Or worse, that I have someone else lined up for the job. I don’t, and I do want her.

“For how long?” Her voice is small and as careful as someone trying to preserve their last breath.

“Thursday. I’m in Arizona until tomorrow night.” I leave later today for the business trip with Knight. I fly back tomorrow night. That will give me time to process how this could work.

“Okay…” She dips her head briefly, the weight of her worries showing. It grieves me to see her look so pitiful, and even I, with all the darkness that lives inside me, wish I could fix everything for her. The bad hand time dealt her, her aunt’s illness, the death of her mother, and her father’s paralysis then eventual downfall. Money can only alleviate the burdens of those things. It can’t fix it. “Thank you. I guess I should leave now.”

She stands, and without another look, she leaves. She walks out of my office as if she’s nothing more to me than one of my clients.

I watch her go and contemplate my answer.

I know what I want it to be, but nothing is easy when it comes to River St. James.

That ex of hers was no good for her, but neither am I.

* * *

Yes.

No.

Yes.

I don’t fucking know...

I’m trying this thing out, to be a better man. That’s why making this decision is so damn hard.

On one hand, I’m so fucking rich I could give River the two million dollars I’m putting up for this new position of mine. It would be like pocket change to me. She’d have money to take care of her for the rest of her life and everyone in it.

I could give it to her and still pick a girl from Luc’s list, but that’s just the thing.

I don’t want to. Now that I know River wants the job, she’s so perfect for the job no one else seems to suffice.

The fucking problem is me.

I struggle with the decision all morning. My brain cells are fried by the time I get to Arizona. Knight notices but doesn’t say anything.

Fried brain cells are not what you want when dealing with a multi-million-dollar project that could give us more public endorsements. The job is to turn an old rundown parking lot into luxury apartments.

Knight and I are used to managing projects of all sizes and with big and small budgets, but this one is significant because it’s the first job this year under the new company structure.

Until Grandfather leaves, we’re still under the Graysons Inc. umbrella, but we’re officially in charge of the contracts that come into Park Avenue.

My mind settles a little after work and we’re at the bar after the hockey match. Luc’s team won, as predicted, and we join his teammates to celebrate after.

Carl, the team’s coach, is prouder than anyone. He buys us all a round of drinks, then we listen to him praise the team—which sounds more like a pastor giving a sermon.

We’re in the VIP section of the sports bar. Knight and I are sitting across from each other at a table while Luc is with Carl and his team members.

Knight taps my hand, and I realize I’ve zoned out again.

“What’s going on with you, Jericho?” He’s eyeing me seriously. “You’ve been like a fucking zombie all day.”

“I’m fine, just thinking of work.”

He doesn’t believe me. I’m starting to get used to the look now. That’s the problem with being around people who know you so damn well. Luc can do that with me, too, but my brother seems to have telepathic abilities that enable him to figure me out before I can process a thought in my mind.

“Are you sure that’s all you’re thinking about? Work? You’ve seen more off-centered than usual since Grandfather mentioned meeting your girl next week.”

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