Page 20 of Rival to the Billionaire

In the tiny space, I can smell Ryder's cologne.

I'd been too busy earlier freaking out about the airplane trip to notice.

But here, I can catch hints of his scent—clean, sun-blasted skin.

He smells of ocean sea breezes and leather—the Pacific Northwest meets Wall Street.

Usually casually dressed in a button-down and slacks with the top buttons undone, it's an interesting change to see him dressed down in a casual grey shirt and dark jeans.

I'd imagine Ryder would look good in anything. An image of his broad, muscled body beneath some suit slides through my mind. Beneath my skin, heat pulses.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

I catch Ryder peering over at me from under his black sunglasses, his eyes fixed on the shopping bag I've clutched close to my chest.

"So…what do you think?" he presses, watching me.

I fight not to squirm. "About what exactly?"

"Vegas. The hotel."

My gaze roams over the polished glass walls of the lift.

The Fountain Springs is one of the newest hotels in Vegas, and supposedly it takes luxury to a whole new level.

I wouldn't really know.

Until recently, I'd kept my head down, working hard as Derek Anderson's Chief of Staff. I never exposed myself to the sorts of treats the billionaire brothers enjoyed.

"It's nice." I gaze out the glass elevator at the stunning, sprawling city below, the afternoon sun creating a glowing backdrop of yellow and orange behind the skyscrapers. "It's…big."

He smiles. "That it is."

He shouldn't be so charming. It makes me forget who he is.

The elevator doors slide open, and we step into the grand, fancy hallway to head to our rooms. As I go to swipe my card to unlock my door, he touches my arm, stopping me.

"I'll handle this one," he says. Opening the door, he motions for me to precede him into the room.

I do as he asks, intruding into his space as he closes the door behind me.

I'm instantly shocked by what I see.

The room we're in is part of a suite the size of a large apartment. There's a kitchen area, a cozy seating area, a workplace, and enough windows to see the cityscape, the Vegas lights, the millions of changing colors in the sky.

Plush sofas, overstuffed chairs, and a TV bigger than my bed greet us. The decor's a blur of blues and creams and golds. A table I'm sure was carved from the branches of a real tree is probably the nicest thing I've ever seen in all my life.

All of this feels so crazy, so surreal.

I stare at it all.

"It's just us in here, right? Or do we have some other…occupants?" I ask in awe. "The fact that only the two of us have access to it seems criminal."

"Yeah, it's all ours," Ryder replies, sliding past me. "All ours…until the conference ends. The concierge told me that, in addition to the living area, there's the dining area and sleeping quarters. In here, they've got the works—from a gourmet kitchen, to a washer and dryer, to a full computer and entertainment center. Beats the hell out of our stuffy Seattle office, huh?”

I don't acknowledge him.

I'm too busy roaming the suite. It takes a while to investigate the whole thing, but when I'm finished, a sunken feeling fills me.

---