Page 46 of The Rival's Obsession
He frowns. “Eve?—”
“No. You listen now,” I cut in, voice low, steady. “Today mattered. This was your first public appearance together since Vegas, and we were building something real. Something clean. Don’t blow it because you can’t find your spine when she’s around.”
His eyes flick to Corrine, then back to me. “It’s not like tha?—”
I lean in one inch closer.
“You’re sitting on the fence between two people right now. But that fence won’t hold forever. Eventually, you’ll have to pick a side.”
My eyes harden.
“And you’d better be ready to live with the consequences—whichever way you land.”
I leave him standing there, Corrine still waiting for him to join her.
And I go after the man who deserved defending.
The sun’s too bright. The air’s too still. And every second Grant spends entertaining Corrine while I stand here like an idiot makes me want to put my fist through something polished and expensive.
We had one job today. One.
Play nice. Look solid.
Rebuild a little trust in the firm we nearly torched in Vegas.
And it was working—until she opened her mouth.
Now I’m at the valet stand, jaw tight, heartbeat louder than the overpriced jazz spilling from the club’s speakers.
I dig into my jacket pocket and pull out a cigarette.
Flick the lighter. Shield the flame with one hand.
The tip catches fire, and I take a long drag.
The first inhale cuts through the pressure sitting on my chest like a weight plate. The second makes it easier to keep my hands at my sides.
Footsteps echo behind me—measured, calm, sharp against concrete.
I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Eve.
The engine growls as my car rounds the circle?—
a silver-blue McLaren GT, sleek as sin and just as temperamental.
It glides to a stop like it knows better than to test me today.
I flick the cigarette to the pavement and blow one last stream of smoke into the breeze before stepping forward.
Opening the passenger door, I don’t say a word.
Eve doesn’t ask me to.
She slides in like she’s done it a hundred times before—like we discussed this ahead of time.
I round the front, drop into the driver’s seat, and slam the door shut with more force than necessary.
The second the door clicks, my foot is heavy on the pedal. The tires protest. The engine snarls. And we leave everything else behind.
