Page 21 of Rival to the Billionaire

I stay where I’ve stopped in the main seating area, staring at him intently. "There's only one bedroom."

He exhales, his shades finally off. He clutches them in his hand. "I know."

"What?"

"I had my assistant book the honeymoon suite. I thought I'd be traveling alone."

"Honeymoon." I snort. "You're the last person who has a right to be in a honeymoon suite." Heat starts to rise under my collar as I face off with him. "The man who's never been married? Who chases women around like a big-game animal? It's unbelievable." I glance around, my gaze whipping over the room. "And don't you think you should have told me this before now? Set my expectations? Before I flew across the country with you?"

He glances at me, his eyes narrowed. "I told you that there were multiple sleeping spots." He blinks. "I didn't say what they were. There are couches here." He motions around. "Plenty of spots for you to crash, if you need to."

I snort. "I'm not sleeping on a couch."

"And I'm not sleeping on a couch." He looks past me, gazing around again. "Plenty of hotel staff to assist you, if any of this is bothering you."

"You bother me, Ryder. Just you," I retort, crossing my arms.

He takes a step toward me, until I'm backed against the large, brown leather loveseat. "Well. That's good," he says, not backing down. "Because I'm fine with that. It's not like I'm expecting you to be who you used to be, once upon a time. A time when you were actually chill to be around."

A gasp bursts from between my lips. "You have no right to say that to me."

"I don't?"

I shake my head. "No. And I don't have to defend myself to you. Things change, Ryder. Life changes. I've changed."

"Yes, you have," he agrees, leaning in closer. "The Jenny I once knew used to be spontaneous. Happy. Fun. Now, she's what? Hard as nails, shut-off, and agitated half the time? Why is that?"

Unease heats my skin. I'm aware that his closeness is making me more agitated, but I don't want to acknowledge it.

I'm breathing hard now.

He's standing so close to me that I can smell the scent of his cologne and feel the heat between us.

The tips of my fingers twitch with the desire to curl.

"You don't know me the way you used to know me,” I tell him. “You have no idea how much my life has changed."

"Oh, yes, I do know. I know that you never roll with the punches anymore, Forde. You always want things to go smoothly, and if it's a gamble...you don't take the risk. You wait. If everything isn't nice and neat and perfect, you just don't want to deal with it."

"Says the man who once smudged Hershey chocolate on the back of my jeans in sixth grade."

He blinks. "It was Ghirardelli chocolate, actually."

"Exactly."

"If you don't remember, you started it by putting your elbow in my ribs during recess."

"It's not my fault you suck at wrestling."

"We were playing tag. You were it. I didn't expect you to pile-drive me like Stone Cold Steve Austin from behind. I'd say the chocolate-smearing was more than a fair trade."

I remember that day clearly. I remember how I'd come home the day before to find my mother sporting a fresh black-eye. And my father's face had been red.

She'd told me it'd been an accident. It always was.

My father would go to work. She'd go to play bingo. My sister and I'd go to school. And I'd come home, full of questions.

I keep my eyes on him. "Did it ever occur to you that I wasn’t going to just sit around while you teased and taunted me? I don't sit still and let myself get bullied, Ryder. I fight back. I always have. I learned that from you, from the Anderson family. You forget that I'm just like you."

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