“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. You look,”—he runs his hand over his face—“breathtaking.”
“Thank you.”
“Shall we?” He offers his hand, and I graciously accept.
We step outside, where a limo is waiting, and I gasp, surprised by the gesture.
“I thought we should go in style.” He quirks up a corner of his mouth in a smile.
As if the way he looked at me and the limo weren’t enough, the way everyone’s eyes fall on us when we enter the ballroom makes me feel like royalty.
Ryder is the type of man who commands attention without having to ask for it. Tall in stature, eyes filled with emotion you can’t quite read, it’s no wonder that every woman in the room exhales a sad sigh when he holds me a little tighter. They feel like they’ve lost their chance. If only they knew.
Ryder’s hold on me is possessive, but not in the way that Devlin held onto me—gripped me. No, Ryder’s touch is gentle, a nod at letting me know he’s there, that we’re together—not that I’m his. Not that I am his in any way, shape, or form. Something I’ve had to remind myself of many times on the short ride over. Being with Ryder, him touching me like this, makes me see things—feel things—I can’t. Shouldn’t. Won’t.
Ryder dips his head, his lips near my ear, voice low. “You okay?”
“I’m great.” How can I not be when he’s by my side? The only thing bothering me is that this won’t last past tonight. Just like Cinderella, only my Prince Charming won’t be coming back for me.
“Ryder, good to see you.” A man approaches us, stealing Ryder’s attention from me for a moment.
“Good to see you, too, Jackson. I’d like you to meet Ember.”
I smile up at the man who I recall is Ryder’s other boss. Jackson stands nearly as tall as Ryder. He’s a large man, but nothing compared to the commanding presence of Ryder.
“Ember, it’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jackson tells me.
“You have? Like what?” My question is to Jackson, but my eyes are on Ryder.
“Like what a great nanny she is… you are,” Ryder says, correcting himself. “Right, Jackson?”
Ryder stammers out the words, and I can’t help but find it to be one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. He’s flustered. The man who exudes confidence is flustered—by me.
“Yeah. Right.”
I can tell just by looking at him there’s more Jackson wants to say. His silence doesn’t last long.
“Just the nanny. No mention of him taking you home from the bar at all.”
Ryder shakes his head and drops his hand to the small of my back.
“Come on, let’s get a drink.” Ryder leads me to the bar, where he orders us a couple drinks—whiskey.
“Sorry about that,” he says as we wait.
“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not exactly a secret that we…”
“I know. I just don’t want you to think I was talking about it—or you—to him or anyone.”
“You don’t exactly look like the kiss-and-tell kind of guy.”
The bartender sets our drinks before us. Ryder kicks his back before speaking.
“I’m not, not even close.”
Except he is close. Too close. The scent of his cologne wafts up my nose, and memories of his body on top of mine creep back in. Between the whiskey and the crowd, it’s getting a little warm in here.