Page 93 of Ruled By Rivalry

“Maeve?” The way Oliver looked at me, brows raised expectantly, I was glad I got to spend most of my time with his wife.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” I repeated, knowing it was a big one.

They both nodded, like that was all the assurance they needed. One way or another, we had a week to get Daphne into a dress that didn’t fully exist and Ryan into a suit that didn’t even have a sign-off from Oliver and Camila.

“Perfect.” Camila smiled, a little less forced than before. “You’ve got the room for another half an hour. You can use it to work on our feedback, if you’d like.” Which meant You better start fixing this right now, and if I see either of you out of this room before 11 a.m., we’ll have a problem.

If this were earlier in the internship, I’d be eager for them to leave so we could get to work. But this was the first time in a week that Elliot and I would be alone in a room, and I wished they’d stay as some kind of buffer between us.

We either fought or made out when put in these kinds of situations. But a second later, we were alone, trying to figure out what the other was thinking and what on earth to say.

“Fuchsia?!” was my pick, apparently. I whirled around to face Elliot, pointing an accusatory finger. “I thought we agreed on a pale pink. Like that sand in the Bahamas.”

Elliot leaned against the wall, arms crossed defensively. “Thought the two might go well together.”

“You didn’t try to test that theory by putting the colors next to each other?”

“If I remember correctly,” he said pointedly. “I didn’t have your fabric sample. I didn’t see your sketches and didn’t get a glimpse at the color you went for. Am I wrong?”

I exhaled a loud breath in return.

“Maybe I would’ve seen the two looked god-awful together if you’d just shown me what you were working on. Maybe this whole thing would’ve gone better if you just talked to me every once in a while.”

My head shook. Hard. Like that might drown out his voice, and how reasonable he sounded.

“It’s a simple enough request. We need to talk. I’m not asking you to marry me, Maeve.”

“I wouldn’t,” I snapped back.

It was a lot of things, but simple wasn’t one of them. The way he looked at me wasn’t simple; the way I felt in his presence wasn’t, either. The way he always said just the right things to get to me made just talking to him so dangerous, I tried to do as little of it as possible—and fucked up anyway.

“It seems necessary.” He shook his head. “To talk—not to . . .” But he trailed off, and I hated that my heart sped up.

Stop, I ordered myself. You’re not going to marry him.

“We’ve done just fine the past week.” I tried to sound as unbothered as he seemed, and probably failed miserably. I spoke too fast, and my breathing came too quickly.

“Have we?” he asked, unconvinced.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about. You’re this close to stealing the rest of my life—”

“I told you—”

“That you didn’t know?” I forced a laugh. “Ronnie knows. Melissa knows. You’re Elliot Fucking Ashwood, and you want me to believe that you, of all people, didn’t?”

It’s ridiculous.

He exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself. “I think I’ve always been clear on how I feel about this internship. I’m not competing with you. I never was—because I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’m doing my best, and whether it is or isn’t enough was never up to me.”

I snorted, if only to bury the part of me that wanted to believe it. “Well, congrats.” My lips thinned. “It was.”

“Maeve—”

The fight left my body all at once. “Whatever. It’s fine. We shouldn’t have started this . . . thing, anyway.” My head fell back, eyes on the spinning ceiling. “It’s stupid. We’re both busy enough without wanting to fuck each other.”

Elliot flinched. It was the first thing I saw when I looked back at him, and I wished I’d missed it.

“Ah.” He hummed. “Of course. That’s what we were trying to do.”