Page 29 of The Rival's Obsession
“You speak Italian,” she says. “But only in two situations. When you’re furious and when you’re fucking.”
She smirks when my brow twitches—just barely.
“You have extraordinary taste in men and women,” she continues, “but you lean toward men.”
I smile at that, slow and dark. “Molto brava, bellissima.”?*
I lift the wine to my mouth and swallow its rich flavor. She watches when I run my tongue along my bottom lip like she wants it on her pussy.
Anch’io, piccola?*.Me too.
“Don’t tell me what’s in my Ledger profile,” I say, voice deepening just enough to catch her attention. “I want to know what you’ve found out today.”
She sets her wineglass down with a soft click, flips her hair off her shoulder, and leans back on her hands—chest lifted, neck long, body stretched and offered like temptation personified.
The scent of her perfume hits me—subtle, floral, with just enough spice to make it feel sinful. I inhale slowly and feel it in my spine.
She’s shifting the tone now. Guiding the conversation exactly where she wants it. And I let her—because watching her work is half the fun.
Her voice dips lower. “The key to fixing this will be Grant.”
I nod once, silent.
“You’re part of it, of course. But he’s the one with the armor on top of armor, and not nearly enough time to dismantle it all. Not in two weeks.”
She glances at me, waiting for me to push back, but I don’t.
“And then there’s Corrine,” she adds casually, like she’s dropping a match in a puddle of gasoline.
The name hits like a shot to the ribs.
I feel it before I can stop it—the hard pull of muscle across my jaw, the way my grip tightens on the stem of my glass. I say nothing.
But Eve saw it.
Her lashes lower, lips curling like she’s just confirmed a theory.
“Not sure what role she plays yet,” she says lightly. “But you do. That much is obvious.”
I keep my mouth shut. No good can come from giving her a reaction.
“What I can’t figure out,” she says, shifting her weight just enough to draw my eyes back to her thighs, “is the catalyst. Something changed. Something snapped. And for everything else I’ve studied—body language, speech patterns, boardroom dynamics…”
Her eyes meet mine again, sharp and hungry.
“…none of it tells me this.”
She leans forward slightly, her voice a blade wrapped in silk.
“What changed between you two—was it personal or professional?”
I smirk.
She’s bold, I’ll give her that. But she should know by now—I don’t give away information for free. Not when everything in this contract has a cost. And not when the truth she’s after is worth far more than a glass of wine and a well-cut dress.
“There’s a price for that answer,” I say smoothly, sipping from my glass.
Eve tilts her head, intrigued. “I thought I was the one charging you a fee, Mr. Marchesi.”
