We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 190

Ridley’s POV

Ethan had informed me just before I left the office that they’d

organized a small gathering for my birthday. It wasn’t something I’d

asked for or even wanted–but I appreciated the gesture. Some days

I wondered if my friends sensed my time was limited. Perhaps that’s

why they insisted on marking occasions I would have let pass

unnoticed.

I pulled up to the Pierce estate, noting the unusual darkness. Typically, the security lights would at least illuminate the drive. The

iron gate stood slightly ajar, which was unlike Ethan’s usual security-

conscious nature.

As I stepped through, my trained senses picked up subtle movements

in the shadows. The slightest rustle of fabric, a hastily drawn breath.

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Lights flooded the entryway as my oldest friends emerged from their

hiding places, grinning like we were teenagers again instead of

Chicago’s business elite.

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For a moment, I was genuinely touched. My last birthday, spent with

people who’d known me since before I was “Ridley Sterling, design

mogul.” There was something poetic about it.

Then I saw her.

Cedar stood among my friends, looking ethereal in a forest green elf

costume. The delicate fabric draped perfectly over her slender frame,

and subtle iridescent makeup highlighted her already striking

features. Her presence was unexpected–a welcome anomaly in my

carefully controlled world.

Just last night, she’d been in my arms. I’d been seconds away from

confessing feelings I had no right to harbor when the metallic taste of

blood had risen in my throat. I’d barely made it to the bathroom

before coughing up evidence of my deteriorating condition.

Men with expiration dates shouldn’t start relationships. I knew this,

yet seeing her now made my resolve waver.

“Don’t just stand there looking broody!” Ethan tossed something

bulky at me. “Put this on. It’s a supernatural theme party, and this is

the last costume.”

I examined the werewolf outfit with thinly veiled disgust. The fur

components alone would be stifling.

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Ethan grinned wickedly. “Cedar helped plan the theme. House rule:

no costume, no entry.”

“I did not!” Cedar protested, her cheeks flushing adorably. “It’s…

Emma.”

The way she stumbled over the denial, the pink creeping up her neck

-I found myself studying her reaction more than listening to her

words. If Cedar had any part in this, even peripherally, how could I

refuse?

I took the cumbersome werewolf costume and headed toward the

changing room, ignoring Ethan’s look of surprise at my easy

capitulation. Let him wonder. The weight of the costume was nothing

compared to the burdens I already carried.

And if dressing as a ridiculous creature of the night would bring a

smile to Cedar’s face–well, that seemed like a worthwhile exchange.

Cedar’s POV

The last person on earth I expected to agree to a wolf costume was

Ridley. Yet there he was, disappearing into the changing room

without protest, leaving the rest of us in various states of shock and

amusement.

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“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ethan chuckled, his gaze drifting not–so–subtly

in my direction. “Mr. Ice King is actually playing along today.”

Emma nodded eagerly. “I’ve known Ridley for years, and I’ve never

seen him this… cooperative. I wonder what he’ll look like.”

The anticipation in the room was palpable. Everyone knew Ridley as

the untouchable CEO of Sterling Design Group–impeccably dressed

in custom suits, perpetually serious, and eternally dignified. The

thought of him in a Halloween costume was like imagining the Willis

Tower doing the cha–cha.

I tugged at my costume, pretending not to notice the meaningful glances being passed around the room. Whatever had made Ridley say yes to this whole costume party idea, I really hoped I wasn’t the

reason.

The changing room door slid open, and the chattering instantly

ceased.

Oh. My. God.

I’d expected Ridley to look ridiculous, maybe even a little endearing

in his discomfort. I was not prepared for… this. The dark wolf

costume should have been silly, but on his tall, athletic frame it

looked dangerous, powerful.

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Chapter 190

The fitted pieces accentuated his broad shoulders, and the partial

face mask framed rather than concealed his sharp jawline. His

expression was thunderous, eyes piercing from beneath the costume’s

details, but that only heightened the effect.

The man didn’t look like he was wearing a costume–he looked like he

was wearing designer armor.

“Holy shit, Ridley!” Emma exclaimed, her professional composure

momentarily forgotten. “You could walk a runway in that thing. If you

ever decide to quit the design world, Hollywood’s calling.”

Ethan cleared his throat, shooting his sister a look. “Down, girl. It’s

just a costume.”

I kept my face carefully neutral, though I could feel warmth creeping

into my cheeks. The last thing I needed was for Ridley to catch me

staring like some besotted intern.

“And now,” Ethan announced, grabbing a champagne bottle and giving it a vigorous shake, ‘let the birthday festivities officially begin!” He

popped the cork with expert precision, sending a fountain of bubbles

spraying across the group. Laughter and squeals erupted as droplets

rained down on our costumes, instantly transforming the elegant

estate into something more carefree.

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“Birthday boy!” Ethan slid two flutes of champagne toward Ridley.

“Time to celebrate another year of terrifying the Chicago business

world.”

Ridley didn’t move. The temperature in the room seemed to drop

several degrees as he fixed Ethan with a glacial stare that could have

frozen Lake Michigan in July.

Ethan’s smile faltered. “Right… designated driver. My bad.” He

nervously adjusted his own costume. “I’ll just… drink these myself.”

If Ethan–Ridley’s closest friend–wouldn’t push the issue, nobody

would. Like a perfectly choreographed dance, everyone’s attention

shifted to me–the newcomer–instead.

“Ms. Wright,” a man whose name I’d been given earlier but had

already forgotten raised his glass, “this party is incredible. You

deserve a lot of credit for this.”

“To Ms. Wright,” echoed someone else–Davidson, maybe? “You look absolutely stunning in that outfit.”

One by one, they found reasons to toast me. I couldn’t refuse without seeming rude, especially since these were all people whose connections could make or break my career. So I sipped, and smiled, and sipped again, studiously avoiding Ridley’s intense gaze from

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across the room.

The champagne was excellent–probably cost more per bottle than my

monthly rent–and went down far too easily. By the third toast, my

head was swimming pleasantly, my cheeks flushed with more than

just embarrassment.

I wasn’t drunk, not yet, but as I accepted another glass from someone,

I caught Ridley watching me with an unreadable expression.

Something in his eyes made my stomach flip in a way that had

nothing to do with the champagne.

This was going to be a very long night.

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