Capítulo 30: Is She Friendly Or...?

Kyle had just purchased a building for the sole purpose of spiting Ryder. This wasn't about business or investment—it was personal. He wanted Ryder to feel the same devastation he had felt when Ryder had upended his life. In hindsight, it wasn't Calista who had ruined him, but Ryder's betrayal that had struck the fatal blow. If Ryder had simply taken his side or fixed those damn CCTV cameras, none of it would have happened. Ironically, though, that catastrophe had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Standing in front of his newly acquired property, Kyle wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to do with it. It didn't matter, though; he had all the money in the world and plenty of time to figure it out. For now, he was savoring the moment, watching Nate pack up supplies to donate to a shelter.

Nate was an odd yet honest man—something rare in a world that practically rewarded dishonesty. It would have been easy, even tempting, for Nate to keep the goods for himself and sell them for a profit, but Kyle doubted he would. This was a test of character, and Kyle was quietly observing.

After Nate handed him a cluster of keys attached to a bulky keyholder, Kyle stepped out of the building, leaving the rest to him. As he walked to his car, he couldn't help but grin. The memory of Ryder's defeated expression when he learned about the purchase replayed in his mind. That look alone had been worth every penny. Kyle chuckled as he started the engine, a wicked sense of satisfaction coursing through him. "This," he thought, "is the upside of wealth. The freedom to do as I please." And he was beginning to enjoy every second of it.

The idea of Ryder spiraling into despair amused him endlessly. "That's what he gets for messing with me," Kyle muttered, his hands gripping the wheel.

When he finally got home, a sense of restlessness took over. His current living space felt too small, too ordinary. It was time to upgrade, time to live life to the fullest. He began making mental notes: he'd need to contact a real estate agent—only the best would do. But even as he dreamed of luxury, Kyle reminded himself to be strategic. Spending too much on himself too soon wouldn't grow his fortune. He was so close to reaching billionaire status, and once he crossed that threshold, the possibilities would be endless.

Still, he knew achieving that goal would require expanding his influence. To do that, he needed to rub shoulders with people in his league—those in the upper echelons of society. That could wait, though. As his car rolled into the driveway, Kyle's thoughts shifted back to the present.

He noticed that Mr. Jones still wasn't back, but what caught his attention was the one person he had hoped to avoid: Aiysha.

"For fuck's sake…" Kyle muttered under his breath. He had been hoping to avoid any interaction with her, knowing full well the thin line between appropriate and inappropriate behavior. She was another man's wife, after all.

Aiysha was in the hallway, struggling to push a small couch through her apartment door. Seeing Kyle, her face lit up. "Thank goodness, Kyle! I need your help!" she called out, waving him over.

Kyle hesitated. He couldn't just walk away—it would be rude, especially since she was Mr. Jones' wife. Begrudgingly, he stepped forward to help.

As he got closer, he noticed the couch wasn't just small—it was surprisingly heavy. "Why didn't the movers take it inside?" Kyle wondered. Then his eyes drifted to her outfit: a loose, baggy shirt that nearly exposed her chest whenever she bent down to lift.

"What the…!" Kyle thought, quickly averting his gaze. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but the situation was already testing his self-control.

"We'll lift on the count of three," Aiysha instructed, snapping Kyle out of his thoughts.

"Alright," Kyle replied, gripping the couch.

"One, two, three!" Aiysha called out, and together they managed to lift the cumbersome piece of furniture. Kyle was surprised by her strength, though he struggled himself.

As they maneuvered the couch through the doorway, a realization dawned on him: they hadn't paid for delivery services to bring the furniture inside. Between this and the candles they had delivered to their doorstep instead of their living room, Kyle pieced together a theory.

"They're broke," Kyle concluded silently. They were cutting every possible cost, a practice Kyle was all too familiar with. Just a few days ago, this had been his life—scraping by, pinching pennies wherever he could.

He kept this observation to himself, knowing that pointing it out would hurt Aiysha's pride.

Once inside, Kyle got his first glimpse of Mr. Jones' apartment. The furniture was old and worn, barely holding together, but the place was immaculately clean. They clearly took pride in their space despite their financial struggles.

Kyle noticed a yoga mat in the living room and quickly decided he needed to leave. "Thank you so much! You're a lifesaver! Can I get you something to drink?" Aiysha asked, her chocolate-toned skin glistening with sweat. Her shirt clung to her chest, outlining her figure in a way that made Kyle avert his gaze again.

"No, thank you. I should get going," Kyle said quickly, but Aiysha wasn't having it.

"I insist! You helped me, and I don't like owing favors," she said, her tone leaving little room for argument.

Kyle sighed, conceding. He didn't want to risk offending her, especially since she was Mr. Jones' wife.

She returned with an energy drink and plopped herself onto the yoga mat, sitting in a meditative pose with her legs crossed. Kyle sat stiffly on the couch, trying to act natural.

"You're pretty strong," Kyle said, attempting to make small talk to ease the awkwardness.

Aiysha chuckled, her eyes gleaming. "I could say the same about you! Maybe you could show me how you got so strong," she replied, her tone laced with an unmistakable suggestiveness.

Kyle froze. This wasn't the first time her words had come off as a little too playful, but now he was certain: Aiysha was flirting with him.

This was his cue to leave. Kyle stood abruptly, gripping the energy drink as if it were a lifeline. "I should really get going. Thanks for the drink," he said, his voice firm.

Aiysha watched him with a knowing smile as he walked out, her gaze lingering longer than he was comfortable with.

Once he was safely back in his own space, Kyle exhaled deeply. "That was close," he muttered. If there was one thing he knew, it was that crossing that line with Aiysha would be a disaster waiting to happen.