Chapter 37 37

Chapter 37 37
  ~RYDER~
    The party kept buzzing behind us, but none of it mattered anymore.
    Not after that crazy scene.
    Not with Tessa still damp and trembling beside me.
    That little witch.... it was so obvious she did that on purpose. 
    But in the end, she was the one who got humiliated the most. 
    That's karma for you....
    I boiling blood calmed when my pretty Tessa stood up for herself.
    That's my girl... 
    That's the kind of woman she was becoming... No fucking person was going mess with her and go scot-free.
    No. Never....
    I led her through the side entrance of the mansion, past the chatter, up the wide staircase, and into our bedroom.
    The door clicked shut.
    She let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for years.
    I crossed the room and opened the dresser, grabbing a soft navy t-shirt folded near the top. One of mine.
    “Here,” I said, walking it over. “Not exactly couture, but you’ll feel better.”
    She smiled weakly, pulling her arms out of the sticky, champagne-soaked sleeves of the satin dress. I turned around, giving her privacy, but her voice stopped me.
    “You don’t have to look away.”
    “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
    She stepped closer.
    “Ryder,” she said, quieter now, “you already undressed me with your eyes downstairs.”
    I turned slowly.
    She stood in her bra and heels, the soaked dress hanging halfway off one shoulder, makeup a little smudged, hair slightly undone from the chaos.
    She had never looked more real.
    Or more beautiful.
    I stepped toward her and helped pull the dress the rest of the way down, slow and careful, like peeling off a bruise that finally got to heal.
    She slipped on the shirt. It hit mid-thigh.
    I ran my fingers through the ends of her hair, brushing it back from her face.
    “You okay?” I asked, voice low.
    She nodded. “I think so.”
    “You didn’t deserve that.”
    “I’m used to it.”
    “No,” I said firmly, “you’re not.”
    I let my hand rest on her waist. “This...” I motioned between us. “You, me, here. This is your life now. Not some spoiled sociopath trying to rewrite the past.”
    She didn’t answer.
    She just buried her face in my chest and let herself finally breathe.
    And I held her.
    ~
    ~MARCUS REYNOLDS~
    Crack.
    The glass tumbler hit the wall and exploded, scotch dripping down the paint like blood on silk.
    His jaw clenched.
    His breath was sharp. Shallow.
    From across the darkened room, the glow of the laptop screen lit up the place. Slightly.
    The image froze for a moment... Raven’s face, red and humiliated, being dragged past a hedge maze like some drunk wedding crasher.
    Then the sound cut back in.
    Someone laughed.
    A woman’s voice... Debbie Bishop.
    “Damn, girl, that slap could’ve dropped a rhinoceros.”
    Marcus let out a sound between a snarl and a growl.
    His fingers dug into the wooden edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white.
    “Stupid, useless…” he spat, pacing.
    Raven had one fucking job.... create a scene, embarrass the little traitor, and try to worm her way back into Ryder’s life just long enough for Marcus to make his move.
    But no.
    She got herself slapped.
    Publicly.
    And Tessa... his Tessa... stood there like some smug little queen, all dolled up in borrowed satin.
    She was never supposed to leave him.
    She was never supposed to look happy.
    He kicked over the leather ottoman.
    It hit the side of the desk with a loud thud, knocking the laptop askew.
    “You think he’s better than me, Tess?” he hissed, pacing faster. “You think he’s going to protect you from what’s coming?”
    He grabbed a photo from the desk... a printed screenshot of Tessa, smiling at Ryder.
    He stared at it like it had betrayed him personally.
    Then tore it straight down the middle.
    “Ryder Bishop is going to bleed,” he whispered.