Chapter 11 Derek’s Forthcoming Wedding
I think Ryker has a dual identity because how do you explain a CEO suddenly looking like a gangster??
Ryker pulled out a gun—which I had no idea where it came from—and pointed it straight at the man's chest.
"You do have a big mouth, Grant. Sure you wanna keep running it?"
The burly man Ryker called Grant, took a few more step back, raising both hands in surrender.
Ryker tilted his head sideways looking rather unimpressed. "Boring. Here I was expecting one more shit from that dumpster you call a mouth so I can forget a bullet in your chest."
I don't think he was bluffing. He looked so damn serious like he would really do it.
Good lord.
"Get out." He snapped.
I felt like melting into the floor, hoping I hadn't successfully landed myself in a bigger mess than my divorce with Derek.
Maybe, Leah was right. I had a thing for choosing chaos over comfort. I should have stayed under a bridge instead of getting into this 'whatever arrangement' with Ryker.
I stepped away from the window, and my fries tasted bitter all of a sudden. A warning alarm went off in my head.
What if Ryker was just another CEO with relations to the underworld?
A killer...
God, what had I gotten myself into?
If this turns out to be another Netflix crime documentary, God help me, I'll haunt someone.
I reached for my phone, fingers trembling as I dialed emergency—then paused. What the hell would I even say?
'Hello there, I think my fake fiancé might be part of a gang. He's currently using a gun to threaten a burly-looking man who has a knife and looks like he eats cars for breakfast.'
Yeah, that'd go down well.
Brain, now would be a great time to think.
Before I could decide what to do, the front door cracked open. I flinched, my phone almost dropping out of my hand in the process.
My whole body froze, like I'd just been caught committing a crime.
Ryker strolled in, calm as ever. As if he hadn't been outside doing.....whatever that was. Like he hadn't been holding a gun to a man's chest.
My grip tightened around my phone, swearing to immediately press the call button the moment he pulls that gun out again.
He raised an eyebrow. "Little lamb?"
I blinked.
Ryker stepped closer and I subconsciously backed away. He grinned at my reaction as if it were cute. "You know what you look like right now? A meerkat who saw a ghost. Tell me, why're you suddenly in FBI mode?"
His grin was infuriating—cocky and untouchable. And somehow, despite everything, my pulse quickened. God, what was wrong with me?
I barely knew him. He'd always been suspicious.
"Why do you have a gun? And what were those guys—looking like mobsters—doing here? Are you one of them?"
He rubbed his face. "Too many questions."
"Answer all of it."
"Why should I?"
"Because I asked."
He laughed. "What are you? Queen of answered questions?"
My frown tightened even more. I probably looked like someone one second away from snapping.
His laughter faded slightly when he noticed that I didn't buy the joke. "Fine. The gun is licensed and trust me, I don't use it for illegal activities."
"Of course." I scoffed. "But you seemed ready to forget a bullet in his chest earlier."
"I was just trying to scare him off. Come on, don't be so uptight and righteous."
"At least I don't go about threatening people with a gun and talking to people who have a knife." I waved my hands dramatically.
"Yes, whatever. But my gun is licensed. And no, they're not mobsters." His usual grin crept up to his face. "We're not gangsters. We're just...something that's none of your business"
"Ryker."
He backed away, saying dismissively. "There's no need to be worried. You won't be hurt in any way. I'll make sure of that. I know you don't trust me much but trust me on this. Now, be good and come outside. We're leaving."
He winked at me, like this was some harmless game, then vanished through the front door.
Do I even trust him not to hurt me? I don't think so.
Whatever was going on with him and those men...I was not thrilled by it at all. It felt like I'd accidentally signed up for a front-row seat to a war zone.
Like I'd sunk neck-deep into a pile of troubles. Ryker didn't just attract troubles, he reeked of it. Breathed it. Lived in it. And me? God save me for I keep making bad decisions.
\~~~~
<< Ryker's POV>>
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I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, my patience slowly thinning like a dying candle.
Vanessa was taking forever. And I wasn't in the mood for "forever."
Not when I'd already been sitting in the car for ten minutes like some unpaid Uber driver, staring at the windshield, regretting all my life choices—including but not limited to entering this contract with a woman who took three hours to "get out of the house."
I checked the time again.
8:41 AM.
We were supposed to leave at 8:30 AM sharp.
I sighed and leaned back, letting my head rest against the seat while trying not to allow my mind to wander off to Grant and his disturbing message.
But then, my phone rang, cutting through my thoughts.
<< Dad >>
Perfect.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen, wondering if I had the energy to deal with him today.
But curiosity got the better of me. If this were about the company and its deadline again, I'd just pretend to lose signal halfway.
I answered the call on the second ring. "Let me guess. I'm behind the deadline and we have twelve days left?"
My father's voice came through, clipped as always. "For once, can you not start with that annoying attitude of yours?"
"Thought you were used to it by now. I guess I overestimated you way too much."
"Suit yourself. I only called today to tell you that I want you at the house this Friday night."
I blinked. "What?"
"I want you at the house for family dinner."
I paused, staring out the window in confusion. "Since when do we do those?"
"Since now. We're discussing Derek's forthcoming wedding."
My jaw almost dropped but I kept my voice flat. "His wedding? As in, another one?"
"Yes," He replied, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "It's this December."
"Wow, the golden son does have a thing for always being the groom."
"Don't start."
"I mean," I went on, ignoring him, "he should just make it a yearly thing at this point and get a loyalty card. 'Marry five times and get the sixth one free.' "
"He's trying again. Failed marriages aren't the end of the world, Ryker."
"Of course, I know that. " I said, mouth twitching. "So long as we all pretend that his first marriage didn't crash harder than your stock portfolio in 2008 when you were still CEO."
He went silent for a second. Then came the jab. "At least, he's still better than you. He's been married. You're almost thirty-three and you've never had a real relationship in your entire life. Just hoes and bros. Only God knows if you haven't earned yourself STD. "
There it was. The Best Father of the Year.
I let out a slow breath, my patience already wearing off. "Still better than turning my love life into a public disaster. Also, some of us like to keep our emotional traumas private. You should try it sometime."
"Just be there, Ryker. Six sharp. No excuses."
He didn't even bother with a goodbye before the line went dead.
A wedding. Derek's second wedding.
Right. The first one didn't burn the house down because she was a sweet little Lamb, now we're going in for round two.
Dinner on Friday? Sure.
But bringing Vanessa would be like tossing a lit match into a gasoline-soaked wood.
Imagine the looks and the chaos.
My father's tight-lipped disapproval.
And Derek? Oh, he'd probably choke on his own smugness trying to keep his cool.
Hell, the idea was deliciously tempting.
Just then, the car door was pulled open and Vanessa's head popped in. "Are we ready to leave now?"
Instead, I replied with a question. "How ready are you to crash a wedding rehearsal dinner, little lamb?"