Heat of the Night (10 page)
“Cheer up. It’s just dinner, and tomorrow we can explore the city before we fly back to San Diego.”
She mimicked the words he constantly tossed her way. “It’ll be fun.”
“Whatever you say,” he said noncommittally, all the while knowing that what awaited them downstairs would not, in any way, shape or form, be fun.
And he wasn’t wrong. Annabelle’s parents met them in the sitting room, which looked exactly like a living room but rich people were funny that way. Annabelle’s dad was a commanding man with a head of salt-and-pepper hair and deep wrinkles around his mouth, probably because all he did was frown. He 52
Heat of the Night
frowned when Annabelle introduced them, frowned when Ryan shook his hand, frowned when he offered him a drink. Neither Sandra or Gregory spoke to him during the fifteen minutes the four of them spent in the sitting room, so when Gregory pulled him aside after Sandra announced it was time to congregate in the dining room, Ryan was thoroughly surprised.
“I’d like a word with you, if you don’t mind,” Gregory said cordially.
Ryan glanced at Annabelle, who offered a tiny shrug. So he said, “Yes, sir” and followed the older man, while the two women headed off, Annabelle’s mom chattering on about the new silverware she’d ordered from Paris.
Gregory led him into a large study with oak-paneled walls and an expensive burgundy carpet. There was a huge stone fireplace on one side of the room, with two plush chairs in front of it. “Have a seat,” Mr.
Holmes said graciously, gesturing to one of the chairs.
Ryan didn’t want to sit, but he did, and a moment later Annabelle’s dad took the seat across from him.
The older man unbuttoned his pristine navy-blue suit jacket, then clasped his hands in his lap and said,
“How did you meet my daughter?”
Ryan gulped. “Annabelle told you in the other room, sir. She’s staying in my building.”
Gregory frowned. “And what exactly is the nature of your relationship, Mr. Evans?”
He suddenly felt like he was in the interrogation room at a police station. He swallowed again, his mouth too dry to work. “We’re, uh, seeing each other, I guess.”
Jeez, why the hell was he so intimidated by this man? He was a Navy SEAL, for fuck’s sake. He was good under pressure, and more than used to getting yelled at. Yet despite his training and background, he found himself extremely uneasy around Annabelle’s dad.
“Are you aware that my daughter is engaged to be married?” Gregory asked coldly.
“I was under the impression the engagement is off, sir.”
“For the moment, perhaps, but there is no doubt in my mind that my daughter will marry Bryce Worthington.” Another frown, this one deeper. “This marriage was decided on when Annabelle was a child, and Bryce is a worthy match for her.”
Ryan bristled. All right, he saw where this was going. Bryce was worthy, Ryan was not. Well, fuck that.
“I have to disagree,” he said politely. “Annabelle was unhappy with Bryce.”
Gregory smirked. “And she’s happy with you?”
“Yes, sir, she is.”
“What is it you do again?” Gregory asked, as if Ryan hadn’t just told him five minutes ago in the sitting room.
“I’m in the Navy,” he answered through clenched teeth.
“Right, the Navy. I take that to mean you travel frequently, sometimes at a moment’s notice?”
53
Elle Kennedy
“Sometimes,” he said warily.
“Then how do you expect to provide my daughter with a stable, comfortable life?”
“With all due respect, Mr. Holmes, I’ve only known your daughter two weeks. We’re not really at the point where we’re discussing our future.”
Frown number three made an appearance. “Well, you see, I
am
thinking about the future. My daughter deserves a man who can support her, who can provide her with the life to which she’s accustomed, and I don’t believe that man is you. Frankly, young man, I don’t believe you are good enough for my daughter.” Gregory leaned forward, a calculated glint in his brown eyes, the same shade of brown as his daughter’s. “So, with that said, let’s get down to business. How much?”
Ryan faltered. “What?”
“
How
much
, Mr. Evans?”
Was this some kind of code? He had no fucking idea what this man was talking about, and he was tempted to unleash a right hook in the older man’s jaw. Nobody had ever spoken to Ryan this way, in such a chilly, disgusted voice, as if he were nothing more than dog shit under the guy’s shoe. Even his drill sergeant in the Navy had been nicer than this, and that guy had been a total dick.
Gregory sighed. “How much will it cost me for you to say goodbye to my daughter and walk out the door right now?”
It finally dawned on Ryan. The son of a bitch was trying to bribe him.
Bribe
him. Who the hell did this man think he was, the Godfather?
“Nothing.” His jaw was so stiff he could barely spit out the word. “It will cost you nothing, because I’m not going anywhere.”
Gregory’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be difficult, son. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I’m not your son,” Ryan said coldly. He slowly rose to his feet. His hands were icy with rage, and he pressed them to his sides, resisting the urge to take his fists and pummel the other man’s jaw. “I think we’re done here.”
As if on cue, a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” Gregory barked.
Magdalena the maid appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Holmes, the Worthingtons have arrived, along with Mr. Kildaire and his guest.”
“Make sure everyone is seated correctly,” Gregory said briskly. “And send young Mr. Worthington in here, please.” He glanced at Ryan. “Mr. Evans was just leaving. Take him to the dining room.”
Ryan shot Annabelle’s dad an overly bright smile. “Great chat, sir. Thanks so much for inviting me to dinner.” He made for the door. “Oh, and happy anniversary, by the way.”
54
Heat of the Night
The moment he was out of the study, Ryan discreetly released the breath he’d been holding, forcing his body to relax. Yet a gust of rage continued blowing inside him. The fucking nerve of that man. Did Annabelle know what a bastard her father was? Should he tell her?
Trying to steady his breathing, he trailed after the maid. The sound of voices drifted from the dining room, and he heard Annabelle laugh, not quite genuine but still melodic. He slowly unclenched his fists and tried to paste on a smile. He had to get through this dinner. He had to do it for her.
“Did Dad give you a hard time?” Annabelle asked quietly when he approached her.
“No, just the usual ‘what-are-your-intentions’ chat,” he said in a light tone.
She slipped her hand into his, gently stroking his fingers. “I’m sorry.”
So was he. He wished he could tell her what her father had just tried to do, but now was neither the time nor the place. The dining room was as enormous as every other room in the house, boasting a table that could easily seat fifty. Tonight it was a small party, only the Holmeses, the Worthingtons, who looked like complete pricks, and Joe Kildaire, a wealthy investment something-or-other whose date looked like she’d had at least thirty-five plastic surgeries.
Fuck, what was he
doing
here?
He snuck a sidelong glance at Annabelle, admiring her gorgeous profile, but not even the sight of her could dim his panic. He looked around the room, from the gleaming crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling to the perfectly set table with an endless amount of silverware and wine glasses.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out he didn’t belong here.
And he never would.
55
Chapter Seven
Ryan looked miserable. Annabelle felt terrible as she watched him pick at the filet mignon on his plate, his dark head bent slightly. He’d barely said a word since his talk with her dad, and she could tell he felt like an outsider as the guests chatted with her parents at the dinner table. He’d only raised his head a few times since sitting down, each time to send a scowl in Bryce’s direction.
Annabelle wanted to scowl too. Bryce had strolled into the dining room with her father, pulling her into his arms for a warm hug as if nothing had happened between them. She had to admit, he did look good in his pin-striped black suit, with his blond hair perfectly cut. His chiseled features focused on her every few seconds, and he kept shooting her endearing little smiles. She had no idea what he was up to, but she didn’t like it, whatever it was.
“So, are you enjoying your vacation, Annabelle?” Bryce asked pleasantly, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a long sip.
“Yes, San Diego is beautiful,” she replied in a polite voice.
“Not as beautiful as you look tonight, I’m sure,” he teased.
She noticed her parents exchange a pleased look. She stifled a sigh. Why was Bryce acting like Mr.
Charming all of a sudden? He’d dumped her, for Pete’s sake.
The dinner dragged on. Bryce continued to flirt with her, Ryan continued to sulk, and Annabelle’s parents chatted with the Worthingtons and Kildaires as if nothing was out of sorts. By the time the small catering staff Sandra Holmes had hired cleared the dinner plates and brought dessert out, Annabelle was ready to tear her hair out. She tried to draw Ryan out of his shell, but he barely paid any attention to her.
His blue eyes became instantly alert, though, when Bryce suddenly cleared his throat and stood up.
“All right, I think it’s time to put an end to all the tension,” he said cheerfully, holding the stem of his wine glass.
The adults at the table looked intrigued.
“Sandra, Greg, I know you were both upset to hear that Annabelle and I broke up,” he said to her parents, “but I want you both to know that Annabelle and I have seen the error of our ways.”
Huh?
Beaming, Bryce went on. “I’m happy to announce that the wedding is back on.”
Heat of the Night
As Annabelle’s mother clapped her hands together in delight, Bryce walked around the table to where Annabelle was sitting and reached for her hand. A sick feeling rose up her chest, settling into a lump in the back of her throat. What the
hell
was he doing?
“Stand up, sweetheart,” Bryce urged. “Let’s toast to our happiness.”
“What? No, Bryce, this is not—”
Without letting her finish, he took her arm and pretty much forced her to her feet. Annabelle’s gaze sought out Ryan’s, but he refused to meet her eyes. His broad shoulders were as stiff as a board and she noticed a muscle in his jaw twitching. Oh God. This was a disaster.
She opened her mouth to object again, but Bryce broke out in a long, bullshit toast about happiness and marriage, and everyone at the table raised their glasses, clinking them together in celebration.
Annabelle had never seen her parents look happier, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of satisfaction in her father’s eyes, as if he had known this was coming. Bryce’s parents got up and hugged her, expressing their joy that the two “children” were still getting married.
Bryce smiled warmly, then whispered close to her ear. “You forgive me for all those things I said, right, sweetheart? You know I didn’t mean them.”
Her lips tightened. Trying to control her anger, she whispered back, “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, Bryce, but I am not going to—”
The words died in her throat when she heard Ryan’s chair scrape against the parquet floor. Without a word or a look in her direction, he walked out of the dining room.
Panic filled her body. “Ryan—” she called, but Bryce tightened his grip on her hand.
“Let him go. This is obviously very awkward for him, us getting back together,” Bryce said smoothly.
“We are
not
getting back together,” she hissed out. Then she shrugged his hand off her arm and ran out of the dining room after Ryan.
She caught up to him just as he reached the front door. “Wait,” she said breathlessly. “Please, Ryan, don’t go.”
Very slowly, he turned to face her, his blue eyes utterly expressionless. “Do you seriously think I’m going to stay?”
“Bryce and I are not back together,” she blurted out. “I don’t know what the hell he’s up to, but I promise you, Ryan, I am not marrying Bryce.”
He didn’t answer.
Annabelle stepped toward him, cupping his chin with her hands. “Please don’t go. Or at least wait for me to change and I’ll go with you, okay?”
Weariness etched into his features. Sighing, he covered her hands with his and very gently removed them from his face. “You can’t go with me,” he finally said, his voice rough.
57
Elle Kennedy
She wrinkled her nose. “Why the hell not? Trust me, the last place I want to be right now is here. I just want to throttle Bryce for what he did back there. He knows damn well we’re not back together.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter.” There was a chord of frustration in his voice.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”
He paused for a few long beats, then let out a heavy breath. “You should probably go back to Bryce anyway.”
Ice hardened her veins. “Pardon me?”
“This isn’t really my scene, babe.” He shrugged, then reached up to loosen his tie. “It’s a little too much for me, actually.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t belong here.” He tore off his tie and shoved it in the pocket of his black trousers.
His voice was suddenly cool, careless. “We were just having some fun, Annabelle. I didn’t sign up for family weekends and drama and all that crap.”
Her hands trembled. “You offered to come home with me.”
“Yeah, and it was a big fucking mistake, okay?” He raked one hand through his dark hair. “Let’s just make this easy, babe. We spent a couple of weeks together, had a good time, but now it’s time to end it.”
“End it,” she repeated dully.
“Yes. Because honestly? The fun’s over for me.”