Page 8 of Ruled By Rivalry

“This?” His brows rose. The dimples in his cheek became visible.

“Enemies. Rivals. Reluctant colleagues.” I shook my head, like I needed to convince myself of it too. “You don’t have to try to get on my good side because I’m not going to let you trick me. No matter what, I’m not stupid enough to give you another advantage.”

Elliot took his own cup, and I hated that I followed when he gestured out of the shop. The easy authority in everything he did was getting to me faster than expected.

“It really is heartwarming to see how highly you think of me. What advantage, Maeve?” he asked as he held the door open.

The summer heat hit me like a bus. Unexpected and hard for the end of May, when it was supposed to be mild and partially cloudy on the East Coast, not rivaling the Texan sun.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Hopefully I wasn’t giving him any ideas. “If I talk to you about work, my day, my routine, you might find something you’re not doing yet or realize something you’ve been doing wrong.” I shook my head. “It’s not happening.”

Picking up my pace wasn’t helping, though. Elliot’s legs were much longer, and so were his strides. He barely sped up at all. “I don’t have a problem sharing my learnings with you. You’d benefit.”

The laugh that escaped me was loud and almost entirely humorless. Because you’re underestimating me! I almost spat back, but I managed to swallow the words just as I pushed the door into the office open, careful not to hit someone in the process.

I succeeded, and the security guard did look a little grateful.

“It’s not happening,” I repeated, then scanned my badge and hurried to the elevators. Watching the gate being opened for Elliot after me without so much as a glance at the receptionist only underlined the point I was trying to make. His outfit did too. “You walk in here wearing half a suit and sneakers, for God’s sake, and you’re trying to convince me you don’t have an advantage?” I’d never even think about throwing the two together. It seemed borderline illegal.

“And we’ve moved on to plain insults now. Great.” But he didn’t seem offended in the slightest. He was enjoying it, if anything.

It simply showed he had an advantage I couldn’t deny, overcome, or take away from him. I didn’t just need to be better than him. I needed to be smarter and more calculated too.

One of those smart calculations was not letting myself be lured in by this . . . undeniable charm of his. By the way he stood in front of the elevator, innocently blinking at me as if he couldn’t possibly explain where my suspicions came from.

It’ll be fun, he’d said.

And perhaps it was the first time anyone said no to Elliot Ashwood at all, because when I did and the elevator doors closed between us, he made no attempt to follow, stumped.

Chapter 4

Elliot was slurring. Despite sitting on the edge of a pool, he kept swaying back and forth. His feet splashed around the water while Allegra, her head on his lap, giggled, then traced her finger down his arm—less toned back then.

I was looking at a version of Elliot Ashwood who hadn’t yet discovered the gym.

Tilting the phone for both of us to see, Paula and I nestled deeper into my couch just in time for his first words.

“Listen, guys,” Video-Elliot said theatrically. His arms opened widely and Allegra’s hand fell back to her stomach. “That’s why I’m here and not in Bumfuck Nowhere, Connecticut. I didn’t want to go to Yale because fuck Ashwood. Fuck everything we’ve built.”

The camera shook with laughter. Snickers and cackling filled the backyard, and it only seemed to fuel his next words: “I honestly wouldn’t touch anything coming out of Adeline Ashwood with a ten-foot pole.”

My best friend gasped, the video kept playing, but neither of us was really paying attention anymore. The most important—the most quoted and talked about—part was finished.

Fuck everything we’ve built. I honestly wouldn’t touch anything coming out of Adeline Ashwood with a ten-foot pole.

“And he’s interning for them now?!” Paula couldn’t believe it. Was already neck-deep in social media research, which is what she liked to call doomscrolling drama accounts. “Talk about a PR stunt.”

“You think that’s what it is?”

“Can’t imagine he wants to be there.” She gave me a look, continuing to scroll without seeing what she was scrolling past. “Clearly, he’s not a fan of the family business. Why else would he work for it now, if not for publicity reasons?”

I hadn’t told her about the competition part of our temporary collegiality. That would have meant admitting things weren’t going as perfectly as everyone had expected. Elliot Ashwood was just the cherry on top of a sundae full of aggravated assault, embarrassment, and spilled coffees, none of which I wanted to acknowledge, let alone say out loud or to anyone else.

Paula mirrored my own sigh, letting her phone fall into her lap and her head back against the couch. “What’s he like, then?” she asked. “Except for incredibly hot.”

I snickered. “Not much else to it, really.”

“And you’re not even . . . considering it?”