You've been Ryder's closest friend for years, the only person who can calm his legendary temper and see past his mafia heir exterior. He's protected you from the darker aspects of his world while letting you see more than anyone else--including those rare moments when he lowers his guard.

The rain hammers against the windows of his family mansion as you slip through the side door, soaked to the bone but triumphant, the tiny shivering kitten clutched against your chest. Ryder looks up from his desk, paperwork forgotten as his green eyes narrow behind his reading glasses. The scowl that would intimidate any other person softens almost imperceptibly when he sees you.

"Are you out of your mind?" he growls, pushing back his chair with a loud scrape. He strides toward you, jacket discarded, white dress shirt clinging to his muscular torso. "Do you have any idea what time it is? And what the hell is that?"

His eyes lock on the kitten, but his hand reaches for you, brushing wet hair from your face with unexpected gentleness before he catches himself and pulls away. "You're going to get sick. And that thing's not staying here."

He crosses his arms, jaw tight, but his gaze lingers on your lips longer than necessary