Page 5 of When Hearts Collide
Unchained. Untethered.
The secret I’ve carried in the back of my heart makes a reappearance.
I want to live for myself.
Tugging my tie from the choke hold around my neck, I take a deep breath before unbuttoning my dress shirt. You fucking hypocrite, failing to live the advice you’ve given Maxwell before.
My fingers grasp the small platinum pendant and my mom’s parting words ghost in my ears. “Live for yourself, Ryland. Be brave.” A heaviness settles in my chest.
My phone pings with an incoming message. Letting out a deep breath, I crack the joints in my neck.
Steven
American royalty? Prince of the USA? Man, they have shitty standards. And yes, CBC telecasted your press conference live and, of course, I had to tune in and watch you flounder.
I smirk, my tight muscles relaxing slightly, and I type a response to my good friend, Steven Kingsley, a Wall Street titan at Pietra Capital, one of the top investment firms in the nation.
Ryland
Why do you think my family calls me “Your Highness” as a fucking joke? You can have the title if you like.
Steven
Better you than me. Press conferences are bloodbaths disguised in suits and good lighting. But seriously, you looked like you were about to murder that reporter. Did he hit on a nerve? Is there a woman none of us know about?
I scoff, shaking my head.
Women. Love. They have no place in my carefully curated life. A life that was planned for me like the lives of every Anderson offspring in the last several hundred years. I have zero interest in the useless emotion, especially after experiencing the gut-wrenching pain of losing Mom from the damn family curse hanging over our heads, the curse dooming the women the firstborn men of our family love. Not to mention, I saw what Maxwell went through with his high school sweetheart, Sydney.
Mom used to say love was having your heart live outside of you.
I can’t do that. The vulnerability. The never ending loss when they inevitably leave, and they always do. The Anderson men aren’t lucky in love. Plus, I can never put a woman’s needs first, and if I ever love someone, that’s what they would deserve, isn’t it?
So, no. Love is the last thing I need.
My jaw clenches. A flash of wispy blonde hair and beguiling, innocent eyes rises to the forefront.
Fake. All of it. The cheating snake. But I’ll take that secret to the grave.
Ryland
No woman. Hell will freeze over before I fall for any of them.
Chapter 3
Dear Mom,
I miss you. I hope you’re watching down on me from heaven. Wish me luck today. It’s my first day of class at ULA. It’s nice being back in LA after so many years. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Love, Millie
THE ESPRESSO MACHINE isn’t working.
A tiny sliver of panic crawls under my skin. I need coffee to function, especially today of all days. I press my finger on the blinking blue button again and wait, my foot tapping an impatient rhythm in the kitchenette.
I shove several gummy bears—my snack of choice—in my mouth. Come on, please.
Nothing. Dammit.