My phone dings, and I reach over, picking it up off the nightstand. It’s a text. Opening it up, I read over it, and my teeth grind.
Fuck!
Deciding to ignore it, I lock the screen and put it back before pulling her into me and closing my eyes.
BLAKELY
I WAKE UP and stretch my heavy limbs. My body is still exhausted, but my head is clear. The lack of light in the room tells me it’s not morning yet. But honestly, I have no sense of time anymore. I could have been out for three days, for all I know.
Getting out of bed, I call out for Ryat but am met with silence. Deciding to go look for him, I walk into the living room and turn on the light. He sits in the middle of the couch, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. His arms are fanned across the back of the cushions, and in his right hand, he holds a glass of scotch. I frown. I’ve never seen him drink before other than that one time he and Gunner followed me and Sarah to Blackout. His hair dry and spiked to perfection how he usually wears it. I remember lying down with him after our shower, but he looks like he’s been awake for hours. “Ryat?”
My eyes drop to the coffee table that sits in front of him. It’s got my cell, my wedding ring and clutch—all three things I left on his bed when I ran. A manila envelope sits on the end.
My heart beats faster at the sight of them. I thanked him in the shower for saving me, and I meant it. If he hadn’t found me when he did, I’d be dead.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. “Come back to bed with me.”
He brings his right hand around, putting the glass to his lips, and throws back his drink. His eyes meet mine and level me with a glare.
“You okay?” I ask, taking a tentative step toward him, already knowing that something is wrong. Ryat doesn’t do well with hiding his emotions.
He gives a rough laugh, the sound making the hairs on the back of my neck rise in warning. “Three weeks, Blake. Three fucking weeks!” He leans forward, staring at the now empty glass in his hand.
I swallow, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy. He won’t forgive me. “Matt—”
“Matt wanted you to leave me. Don’t tell me that you didn’t know what he was doing.” He interrupts me. “We both know that you’re not stupid. And instead of coming to me, you ran.”
I cross my arms over my exposed chest. “You lied to me. Why would I go to you …？”
He stands and throws the glass into the lit fireplace, cutting me off. The sound of it shattering makes me jump in surprise.
“Don’t get mad at me for a situation you put yourself in,” I shout, uncrossing my arms. “You had a hundred chances to come clean. To tell me what the hell was going on. You made a decision, and now you don’t like the consequences.” Spinning around, I give him my back and go to storm off to the bedroom.
“You’re right.” He sighs heavily.
His words bring me to a stop. Never in my life would I have thought Ryat Archer would be the kind of man to admit someone is right other than himself. Slowly, I turn around to face him, and he falls back down onto the couch.
“Want to know what happened?” He fans his arms across the back again, his legs falling open. His posture and narrowed eyes tell me he’s anything but remorseful. “You started off as an assignment. I tried to decline it. Said you didn’t belong to me. But that wasn’t an option. You don’t say no to the Lords.” He tilts his head to the side, his eyes running over my bare chest. “So, I followed you. Learned your routine.” He laughs softly. “Or lack thereof. Then I made my move.”
My brows pull together. “What do you mean …？”
“You really thought you ran into me by accident?” He shakes his head. “I put myself in your way, Blake. It was my way into your life. It was time for you to see me. To want me.”
My hands fist at his confession. “You …”
“Gunner made sure that Sarah found that flyer. We made it just for the two of you, by the way.”
No wonder I had never seen one before.
“I gave you just enough information to make you curious.”
Tears start to sting my eyes at how stupid I was. Not a goddamn thing was by chance. It was all a fucking game. Piece by piece, he played me.
He smirks. “You were starving, Blake.” My heart sinks at his words. “Matt turned you down for so long that I didn’t have to give you much to keep you begging for more.”
The first tear runs down my cheek, and he watches it. Then he looks away, pulling his lip back with disgust. “You’re not the only stupid one here, Blake,” he adds. “I began to feel something for you.” He snorts at that confession. “Because you looked good in a fucking dress. I thought, what is wrong with your wife loving you? That maybe we’d have a chance after all.”