Chapter 28 "I'll take another." Ryker's words slur together. He holds up his empty glass and waves it in the air. He looks in the direction of the bar, still brandishing the glass. "No, he won't," I speak up, giving the bartender a polite smile. His name is Davis, and he seems really sweet, but if he gives Ryker another drink when it's obvious he doesn't need another, I'll be pissed. He was the one who started serving him when we were inside, and when we moved out here, he followed shortly after. He's served Ryker plenty. Ryker twists his body to glare at me. "You're not the boss of me." I narrow my eyes at him. Technically, I am his boss. I'm in charge of him for the summer, and if anyone found out I let him get this drunk in public, it'd be bad news. I've already let him drink more than he should've, but I was just trying to mind my business. I shouldn't have. He's wasted, and I have to find a way to get him out to his SUV without anyone seeing him. "We're going home," I announce, pushing myself out of my chair. We'd gone with our group to the beach for the evening. The weather has been beautiful, and at first, when we came out here, it was busy. The beach bar was packed, and there were people even out in the ocean. It was a fairly casual night, which might be the reason I didn't pay as close attention to Ryker and how many drinks he was consuming. As time passed by, everyone left until it was just me and Ryker. Luckily, none of the Davenport Media board members were outside. We could take the path on the side of Pembroke and get Ryker to the car without any prying eyes. If anyone on the board saw how drunk he was, it might ruin the progress we've been making. "I'm not going anywhere with you," Ryker speaks up. To his credit, he says the words slower, making them easier to understand. I look around. The only other person nearby is Davis, and he's too preoccupied doing something at the bar to even be listening to Ryker right now. "You don't really have a choice." I close the distance to him until I stop in front of his chair. I hold my hand out and wait for him to take it. He gently swats it away. "No." I purse my lips and hold my hand out once again. "Yes. I'm your only choice right now, Ryker. You're going to have to accept my help. Now, come on, before someone sees how ridiculously drunk you are and you destroy your chances with the board." He swats my hand away again, but I don't argue because he pushes himself out of his chair. "Fine," he mutters. "But don't talk to me." The second half is said so quietly I almost miss it. He doesn't even look at me as he stomps forward. He can barely walk a straight line, but I don't offer him help. I already tried that, and he didn't want it. "Well, this is going great," I whisper to myself. I can't believe I let him get this drunk. I was still reeling over our conversation in the bathroom, and I lost sight of what I was supposed to be here doing in the first place-my job. I follow closely behind Ryker as we walk toward the SUV. I stick to my word. He doesn't say a thing to me, and I don't say a thing to him either. I get lost in my own thoughts, scolding myself for allowing us to end up in this situation in the first place. I shouldn't have let last night happen. I knew better than to kiss him. To do more with him. The problem is that, with Ryker, I lose all sense of what's right and wrong. I swear I don't like him, but I'm not even sure about that anymore. When his lips are against mine and he's uttering my name so desperately, it seems like he needs me. It feels like I like him far more than I should. Ryker knows how to push every single one of my buttons. It's a talent that he has, and it drives me crazy. But he also knows how to get me to let my guard down. And that's terrifying. I don't like being vulnerable. I loathe it. I much prefer for people to make their own assumptions when they don't know a single thing about me. Their opinions don't matter if I haven't let them in. But it's the people I let in, the ones who see the vulnerable parts of me, and still walk away who do the most damage. 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 firm goodbye. 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. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 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. Ryker lets out protest after protest. I ignore each one, keeping my grip tight on his. The moment we get to his large SUV, I drop his hand like it's on fire and open the passenger door. "Get in." I don't bother to keep my voice gentle or professional. I'm so ready to be away from him, even if my escape is only being on the opposite side of the house. He takes a step forward, and unfortunately, the position puts us too close together. My mind flashes with the memories of last night. The possessive press of his lips to mine. The lust in his eyes and how, for just a few moments, it felt like he wanted nothing more in this world than me. "Camille." I shiver. Something about how he just said my name reaches deep inside of me and grabs me by the heart. He says it vulnerably. And the way he looks at me right now makes it seem like there's something he wants to say. He's so close I can smell the liquor on his breath. I should hate it, but I don't. That realization terrifies me. I've always hated the smell of liquor because of Dad. He got upset when he drank, always saying things he didn't mean. Or maybe he did mean them. It's not something I've ever wanted to think too deeply about. "Camille." Ryker repeats my name, and it has that same vulnerable lull to it as the first time. It's like a sledgehammer to the walls I just put back up this morning. It takes everything in me to not give in to him right this moment. "You should get in your seat," I whisper. I'm shocked I'm even able to get the words out. I can barely think straight right now. Not with how close he stands to me, the familiar smell of him completely surrounding me. God. What is it about this man that drives me crazy? Why can't I just fully push him out? "I don't want to."