Chapter 19: Pick a side

"Amber," Ryan starts as an awkward silence passes between us. "Don't... don't do that again. Don't touch me like that ever again," I whisper as my whole being trembles. I want more; more than just a touch on my finger and a sweet, soft caress, but it never really ends there. It could be just sex, and it could be more. I'm not sure which I want when it comes to Ryan. After Grant, I'm not sure I'm ready to delve into another relationship. I never really had the time to heal from it because I met Ryan, but I loved Grant and trusted him with my life. And he'd hurt me. What's to say that Ryan isn't just being nice to me because of Ash? What if he leaves me tomorrow for a rich, hotter woman? Sure, I can see that he wants me now. It's in his eyes, but don't all men look like that at first? I'm not looking to get laid. Hell, I'm not looking for a man right now. I swallow painfully and take a couple of steps forward, placing Ash on the bed. "I'm sorry," he says, and there is a slight quiver in his voice. "I just..." I shut my eyes. I don't want him to be sorry. He did nothing wrong. "It's fine, Ryan. Goodnight." "Goodnight, Amber," he sighs and the moment he steps out, I fingers delve into my hair and I groan in frustration, pulling at my hair. "Pick a side, Amber," I mutter to myself as I settle by the edge of the bed. "Pick a fucking side." When I wake up the next morning, Ryan's left already, leaving nothing but the extra towel folded in a neat pile by the bed and a note that says, 'Thank you. I'm sorry.' **** *Ryan* "When are you coming home?" I massage my forehead with my thumb and drop my ball pen by the lever file. "As soon as I'm done with this project, Dad." "Do not test me, boy." A clench my jaw and my fists, reeling my anger in. This is why I escaped to Stowe. As heir, I have responsibilities to handle, all of which I am doing perfectly, except one thing. Getting married. Get a respectable woman from a powerful home and take the family business to greater heights. Or so my father has said for the past three years. I do not see the need for that. I do not wish to get married to a 'respectable' woman from a 'powerful' family. I do not wish to marry for the sole purpose of expanding the business. I can do that on my own. Already am. But it'll never be enough. "As soon as I am done with this project, Dad," I say sternly. "Is it a woman?" The question hits me like a blow to the stomach and I suddenly feel ill. If I say yes, my father will go to any lengths to find Amber, and he will find out about my son. A shiver snakes my spine as I am barraged by images of the possible outcomes of that. Not yet. I can't tell him yet. "No," I lie smoothly, and my voice comes out steady. There is a terse silence for a moment and then, "Be home in a month. I will have Mary incorporate dates with heiresses into your schedule. You will not put this off anymore." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I will not be going for blind dates or any dates at all that are not of my choosing. I refuse. You need to understand that I am a grown man, and I can make my own decisions." I can almost feel his rage as he yells, "I am your father! I made you who you are! If you will not comply, I will make Jasper CEO and remove you—" "Dad," I say in warning, cutting him off. "You made me CEO because I earned it. You trusted that I would deliver and I have. Everyday, every year. Give me that level of trust as least to pick my own damn wife!" Dad goes silent. I rarely yell. I rarely raise my voice. My mother likes to call me a gentle, yet, observant soul. So, in the rare moments where I do yell, it forces them to listen to me. "You have three months," he says quietly before hanging up on me. I sigh, tossing the phone aside. I lean back in my executive chair and roll around, staring at nothing in particular. My phone dings and I pause in my rotating and peer down at the screen. It's a message from Dad. It says, "Let her be decent at least." I groan and put the phone facedown. Decent? Sure. Amber is decent. She is beautiful. Smart. Annoying in the most aggravating of ways. Still...I am attracted to her in ways I never would have thought possible. My brother, Jasper, says love is a flu and I should best avoid it with all my might. My father says it is a fickle thing. What I feel when I watch that woman is nothing fickle. Perhaps, Jasper was right and it is more like a flu. My chest is ripped open when I am around her and strange, fuzzy things are thrown into it. Things I have never felt in my life. And every time she pushes me away, it feels like a knife to my gut. Stab, stab, and stab. She has no idea how much it hurts. I want to stop caring, but I can't help myself. I find my world revolving around hers. Using Ash as an excuse, I have scheduled all my business meetings to hold in her small shop. Spending time with Ash makes me happy in ways I cannot explain, but what truly makes my day feel complete are those rare moments when Amber attends to a customer and smiles brightly as they leave, wishing them a good day or a great week. It takes my breath away every time. However, it would seem I'd have to learn to keep my emotions to myself and shove it deep within me, never to see the light of day again. She doesn't want me. I had been mistaken last night when she reacted to my touch. I really should stay away from her and focus on Ash. Only Ash.