Page 95 of Rival to the Billionaire

"Why not? If he loves you, then he should."

Loving me is not enough, I think. There have to be other ingredients. There has to be more than just love.

Carmina throws up her hands. "You know what? Maybe you should let him go…and move on. Move on from a man who has loved you most of his life and loves you still. Move on from the only man who has ever made you feel worthy of being loved. Move on from a man who has never yet lied to you, deceived you, or used you for his own personal gain. Move on from the only man who has ever loved you…just because he could. Not because he thinks he can get something from it. Or, even worse, think that you will owe him for loving you. But because he chooses to see you. To see your soul. Because he sees you as you are. He sees who you are inside and out. He sees the girl you were. And the woman you are now. He sees all of it…and he chooses to love it."

Because he's Ryder. Because he is the kind of man who can love like that.

The kind of man who knows my appetite and favorite foods. The type of man who knows I love wildflowers picked from an open field.

The type of man who knows how to hold me and keep me safe.

The only man I've ever felt safe with. Ever.

I stare at her and nod, feeling my cheeks wet as I wipe away some tears. "You're right. I don't want to move on from him…" I whisper. "I want to move on with him. If he will have me."

Carmina smiles and squeezes my hand. "It looks like somebody has a lot of groveling to do." She reaches across the table and kisses me on my lips. "You know what you need? You need some wine." She pulls the bottle of wine from the refrigerator, pours more into her glass, and then tops mine up. "First, we drink this…then we start on the next part of your plan."

"Which is?"

"To do what you're damn good at. Making things happen. Winning. You're going to win your man back. And keep him. Forever."

I smile. "I can do that." I lift my glass. "To winning."

"To winning," Carmina agrees, clinking her glass against mine, and we drink.

As I finish the glass, I feel a bit more confident. More determined. A little more hopeful.

Because if anyone knows how to win against impossible odds…it's me.

I can only hope Ryder feels even a tenth of the same way.

Because I'm going to need all the help I can get.

ChapterTwenty-Six

RYDER

The bike ride I take Monday night to wash away the bitter aftertaste of the weekend doesn't do much to help my mood.

The April Seattle weather tonight is perfect for riding. Cool, but not cold. Windy, but not too windy. And a full moon lighting up the sky in spite of the clouds that scud across it every few minutes.

It's a good night for riding…and not a good night to be thinking. About anything. Or anyone.

I'd like to turn off the part of my brain that immediately goes to Jenny. To her face. To the scent of her neck. To the way I feel when she's next to me. Like I'm on top of the world.

But I can't turn off my brain and my heart.

Passing by the shops along 2nd Ave, I catch a glimpse of myself in the window of one of the shops. Even under the leather jacket and black helmet, I can see how haggard my face looks. Dark circles under my eyes like I haven't slept in days. Greasy dark hair that hasn't seen a brush or comb in a couple of days. And the face of a man who has been living in his head for too long.

I focus on the road before me and start to put thoughts of Jenny out of my mind…or try to anyway.

I pull up the speed on my bike and fly through the streets, taking advantage of the empty blocks and cruising through the red light at Broadway. I push forward until I'm flying along at a whopping 110 mph.

The speed is invigorating, and I welcome it.

After my parents died, I welcomed any feelings that made me feel like I was alive. I leapt into lust, to alcohol, to anger, to over-the-top partying…anything that distracted me. Anything that was more exciting than feeling sorry for myself.

I lost myself in the process, of course. I let my heart die. And it was surprisingly easier than I expected, closing off my soul a bit more every day, until there was no real life left in me.

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