Page 27 of Ruled By Rivalry

That he doubled down did, too. “The problem isn’t you. It’s this place. The fact I’m here at all.”

Of course, for someone used to three-thousand-square-foot penthouses, this apartment must’ve felt like a shoebox. The first time I’d stepped inside, it had felt like a castle to me.

I tried to stay on track. “So . . . you fucked up how?”

“Fucking Allegra—” he muttered, then cut himself off with another groan.

Not at all what I expected to hear. Not at all how I expected to react to hearing it, either. Something unfamiliar coiled in the pit of my stomach, viciously lashing out. “You got in trouble for”—I hated saying it—“fucking Allegra?”

Maybe for the first time in my presence, Elliot really, truly laughed. He smirked and grinned and snickered—a lot—yes, but he’d never genuinely laughed. Not like that. Boisterously, without holding back.

“God, no.” He shook his head, but his eyes never left me. If he noticed the color in my cheeks, he didn’t let on. “No. No,” he repeated after another second of consideration, like the thought in itself was appalling.

“It’s not that far-fetched. You clearly still like each other.” It was obvious.

He shook his head harder, sat straighter. Gaze still fixed on me. “Not like that. We broke up years ago.”

“Okay, my bad. She clearly still likes you. Like that,” I emphasized. It’s incomprehensible how he hadn’t picked up on the signs. I’d hung out with them once, and they were clear as day.

The way she’d immediately classified me as a friend, not a potential love interest, date, girlfriend. The way she’d laughed at his jokes, touched his shoulder, played with her hair. The way he’d suggested inviting some of their friends to the club, and she’d only reluctantly agreed.

“You’re out of your mind, Maeve.” He sounded earnest, like there was no way in hell his ex-girlfriend might still have feelings for him—a wealthy, attractive, and at least decently mannered guy. He narrowed his eyes, like he’d just had another thought. Rare occurrence, I remembered. Smiled. “Are you . . . jealous?”

My smile fell. “Now you’re out of your mind,” I snapped, too fast. He noticed; of course he did. So, I had to double down, if only to successfully ignore the grin slowly growing on his face. “We’ve already established. Not every girl wants you. Some of them—”

“Just work with me, yes.” He nodded grandly, moved closer. None of our limbs were touching—yet. “I don’t remember your name on that list, though.”

“Bad memory?”

“Quite the opposite.” My entire body relaxed when he leaned back into the cushions. His gaze no longer bore into mine, and I wasn’t two seconds of eye contact away from a realization I’d rather not have.

I stirred the conversation back into safe territory. Safer, at least. “Why did you get into trouble, then?”

A side-glance, but no further comment on the drastic change of subject. “Fucking Allegra keeps talking me into bad ideas.” Allowing him to finish his sentence from earlier showed that the entire embarrassing tangent we’d just gone on was totally unnecessary. “It’s not her fault. I didn’t mean it like that. Just—” Another groan before his arms crossed.

I had no issue poking in order to get the confirmation I needed. “So, the problem is that you went out? To Avenue?”

“The problem is the paparazzi caught me going out. Hunter only cares when someone notices. Or, well, when investors notice.” He shook his head. “I still don’t get it—employed people go out during the week, right? Isn’t that the entire concept of happy hour drinks?”

“Can’t imagine he’s thrilled about us taking over Daphne’s and Ryan’s looks?” I guessed. Correctly, if the way he rolled his eyes was anything to go by.

“Probably just that I went over his head with it. He likes challenging me. He doesn’t like when good ideas aren’t his, though.” Elliot shrugged, looking back at me. My body was immediately on the grid again. There was nothing subtle about it now, nothing to help me explain away the look on his face.

I snorted, then looked around the living room to avoid his eye contact. The empty vase on the coffee table in front of us, TV against the opposite wall, right next to the fire escape window. As with any wall that belonged to Ashwood, framed prints of designs, sketches, and red carpet looks hung above a sideboard.

A shoebox to him. A castle to me.

“You still think it was a good idea, then? Daphne and Ryan?” I loved that we got to do it, but I did wonder whether we were equipped for a task of that size. Whether it was too much pressure and responsibility, especially with so many things that could go wrong.

I’d never been pessimistic, but . . .

“Think about it, Maeve.” Elliot sighed, like he was tired of explaining it. As if he’d had this conversation a million times already. “This is the exact thing we’re expected to do after our internship ends.” I didn’t remind him that only one of us would get to do it. “They can see what we’re capable of. You can see if this is really what you want—”

“It is.”

His hands raised at the snap in my tone. I didn’t expect it either, to be honest. “Alright,” he said, calmly. “It is. But I’m just saying—”

“You’re saying you hope I realize I actually hate the job I’ve been dreaming about for over a decade and quit before the program is over. So that you—” don’t lose your inheritance, I almost said. I barely managed to stop myself. “Get the job.”