Page 25 of The Rival's Obsession
I glance toward the skyline instead, give a low exhale. “You run a company long enough, you accumulate cracks. Some visible. Some… structural.”
“Which kind are you?”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I suppose that’s what you’re here to figure out.”
She doesn’t blink. Just watches me like she’s already peeling back the layers.
I hate that I’m wondering who’s calling the shots here. Technically, she’s contracted. But it was Dante who brought her in.
And Dante…
Dante thrives on chaos. Always has. If he thinks breaking something will expose the rot underneath, he’ll strike the match himself just to watch it burn.
Maybe Eve’s here to push me into the flames.
Corrine just left, floating a plan to cut Dante out—for good. I didn’t say yes. But I didn’t say no, either.
So now I’m wondering…
What if this isn’t a coup?
What if it’s a trap?
What if they’re working together—and I’m the one being cornered?
I give Eve an answer that looks honest on the surface. But underneath it says nothing and reveals less. Because until I know who’s playing whom, I’m not putting my cards on the table.
“People change. Priorities shift. Eventually, even partners start pulling in different directions.” I meet her gaze head-on. “This is nothing more than that.”
A lie. Polished. Practiced. Delivered with enough distance to keep her from getting closer.
But I know her type.
She won’t stop until she finds a crack.
And if she keeps looking too long…
She’s going to find the truth.
The kind you can’t bury—no matter how deep you dig.
Eve leans forward slightly, fingertips grazing the rim of her demitasse. Her espresso sits untouched. She’s letting it cool. Watching me instead.
“Tell me about you and Dante.”
I give a soft huff through my nose. “You’ll need to narrow that down. We’ve got decades of dysfunction to unpack.”
She smiles faintly, like she’s heard that before from other clients—but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Start wherever the silence is loudest.”
I pause, fingers flexing along my own coffee cup.
Clever.
But I can’t give her silence.
The silence I feel is a small tug in my chest. A pull toward something I haven’t looked at in years.
