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Her grin grows. “Don’t worry, none of it’s bad. But for the last couple weeks you were a hot topic.”
“Really?”
She nods and rattles off a few things they were saying.
Who’s the new supermodel Ryker Dallas is with?
Where did the gorgeous woman come from?
Did Ryker Dallas find himself a lover while suspended?
“And the list goes on… but you get the picture.”
My cheeks burn from embarrassment.
“Why do they care so much?” I ask, appalled that this is some people’s career, to talk about other people’s lives. And now his rejection is out there too.
“You were with New York’s number one bachelor.” No wonder his ego was so big.
“Were is the key word,” I mutter.
She wrinkles her nose with a mischievous grin. “Well, I can tell you that those same people think he downgraded.”
I shouldn’t be happy. Nope, not at all.
But it feels somewhat satisfying.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ryker
I drown the rest of my beer before answering my phone, caller ID show's it's the front desk security. Flipping my wrist, I glance at the time, I’m not expecting anyone. Especially at ten o’clock at night. And if it’s Donnie asking me to go out, I’ll flip my lid. There’s a reason I’m not answering my phone. I want to be left alone.
“Mr. Dallas, Ms. Bree Kensington is here to see you.”
I haven’t drank enough for this.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, debating if I should send her away. We haven’t talked since I fired her a week ago, so I can’t imagine what she wants now. “I’m not leaving,” I hear her say in the background.
“Ma’am, please be quiet.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Send her up.”
I grab another beer from the fridge, having a feeling it’ll be needed. Maybe she’s here to apologize for making it seem like we were a couple at the gala. It was intentional how she was posing. She of all people knows how to stage a picture.
I’m sure Aspen has seen them already. It’s probably why she hasn’t called me. I blow out a harsh exhale. Getting wound up before she gets here isn’t the best idea.
A few minutes later, the knock comes. When I swing the door open, she stomps into my place like she owns it. I do a double-take, staring at her like she’s lost her mind. She spins and stares back.
“Shut the door, Ryker.”
I push it shut and the click echoes around us. “What the hell are you doing here, Bree?” And demanding me to do stuff.
She squares her shoulders and puffs out air through her nose. She’s still dressed from work. I can’t figure out if she came from happy hour or if she was working late. “First, I’m sorry. I overstepped.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You think?”
“I don’t need your sarcasm. I was wrong.” Her voice loses its initial steam. “It was my job to maintain your positive public image.”
