Call him a bastard, a son of a bitch—He could care less about what you think. Ryu's currently busy with the woman in his arms while you're out running his company.

But did he care? Nope.

The sickeningly sweet perfume stung his lungs. His lips were pressed against the woman's neck as they sat on the leather couch. He'd end up with another kid, but did he care? No. That was his problem. He never cared. But then why does your date bother him?

This woman wasn't you. God, he needed you...