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.”
“I don’t need the fucking definition of a PR manager, Bree. But tell me, what image were you shooting for when you posed with me in those pictures at the gala? Because we both know you made it appear we were together.”
The paparazzi wanted to know if I fired her so we could date. Every single time it came up, it took major self-control to not drag her through the mud for doing what she did.
I throw my hands up when she doesn’t answer. Her silence is her answer. “Whether or not you believe me, I thought I was helping. I wasn’t aware how much you cared for her,” she finally admits. She whips around, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors as she walks over to the bar and spins the chair around to sit in it. I stay put, watching her from across the room.
Does she think she’s staying?
“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. You can leave now.” I jerk my gaze toward the door.
“Ryker, sit down.”
What is up with this woman and her trying to control me? “You seriously didn’t just command me to sit down? I am not your goddamn dog.” If Bree hadn’t been part of my life for the past eight years, I’d pick her ass up and throw her out myself.
She huffs. “Please?”
“I’m fine right here. What exactly do you want, Bree?”
Her spine straightens. “I want you to hire me back.” Happy hour. Because she’s delusional.
Yep, more beer. Laughing and shaking my head, I walk to the table I placed my beer on and take a long gulp.
“Ryker, the news about Aspen is out.”
I pull the bottle away from my lips as my heart slams into my chest. I knew it would happen any day.
“When?”
“There was a press release just over an hour ago.”
I fist my hand, the overwhelming desire to protect her growing, despite her not talking to me. I can’t imagine meeting my parents for the first time and it being broadcasted for the world to see. The world who will ask so much of her until there’s nothing left.
“People haven’t connected the two of you. Yet. But it won’t be long.”
“I don’t fucking care about me,” I growl, pinning my heated stare on her. Are we back to this? “Why do you care? You’re not my PR manager anymore.” She slides off her seat and steps over to stand in front of me.
“You’re right, I’m not. But you still don’t have one and right now is the worst time to be without one. I can help.”
“How?” I stand taller, pinning her with my stare. “By telling people we had a quick fling, and I had no idea who she was. Is that how you’d spin this?”
“I’d tell people whatever you want me to tell them.”