Page 37 of Ruled By Rivalry

And tonight, that was the damn restaurant opening. The same one I’d just spent the entire walk home arguing against.

“If you really want me to have more uninterrupted alone time with them . . .” Elliot said. My gaze flicked to Rowen in the car, tapping his watch. Back to Elliot, challenge in his blue eyes again. He turned to leave.

Fuck.

“Fine.” The word shot out of me, and I only half regretted it. “I’m going.” Although I hated seeing the satisfaction spread across every single one of his features. “But I need to change. I can’t go looking like this—”

“You look good,” the brothers said in unison, and I merely rolled my eyes. I’d be caught dead before I showed up to another one of Elliot’s fancy places in work attire.

“I’ll get something for you,” Elliot offered quickly. “There’s no guarantee of you ever coming back down once you disappear in there.”

“And you’re going like that?” I gestured toward his usual tailored dress shirt and pants combo, only in the hopes the dig was unpredictable enough to surprise him. Not because it actually looked bad.

“And she’s back to insulting my outfits again.”

My mouth already opened when Rowen interrupted, “Please don’t start arguing again.”

And I got into the back seat because I felt bad for him; no other reason. I could change once we got there.

Rowen’s car smelled new, leathery, and expensive. Looked that way, too. Without a crumb to be found and freshly cleaned windows. Through the spotless rearview mirror, I could feel his gaze on me.

The second we made eye contact, he asked dryly, “Are we holding you against your will?”

No need to hesitate. “Yes.”

The corners of his mouth curled upward. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you—even if it’s involuntarily. You’ve been causing quite the stir.”

Chapter 15

To his credit, Elliot was fast. A few minutes later, he shot out of the building with a black dress over his arm, and I knew exactly which one it was, even before I felt it between my fingers. I’d watched Mom make it for her thirtieth birthday, sitting on her lap, holding the fabric in place, and feeling so very proud—like it wasn’t an unnecessary job.

A midi-length slip dress, sweetheart neckline trimmed with a contrasting white border to match the hemline. Mom had struggled with that neckline notching for hours, and it had been the first time she’d sent me off her lap and out of the room. Maybe that’s why I still remembered it so vividly.

Maybe that’s why seeing it sent a punch straight to my gut.

Elliot couldn’t have known the significance it held, and all his selection showed was that he had great taste. I swallowed the sour taste in my mouth as Rowen pressed on the gas. “I can just get changed there, right?”

I thought there would’ve been no other option, but the glance Elliot and Rowen exchanged was . . . suspicious. “Guys?” I doubled down.

Rowen cleared his throat. His eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror again, then back to traffic. “The restrooms are big,” he said. “But they are in the back. You’d have to walk through the entire restaurant.”

Whatever sense of relief the first half of his sentence brought vanished. “Which you could!” Rowen added quickly, like he almost forgot. “Seriously, there’s nothing wrong with the way you look.”

True, the denim skirt, matching vest, and button-up below looked good, but not for a restaurant opening with Michelin-star ambitions. With a pointed glance at Elliot, busy studying his brother beside him, I muttered, “Heard that one before.”

Your outfit will always be the first thing people notice.

I wasn’t usually this quick to give up, but unless I wanted to get changed in an alley behind a dumpster . . .

“I mean . . .” Elliot hesitated, which didn’t happen often. I wondered whether he was about to suggest the dumpster idea, too. “The car’s big. We’ll look away.”

Okay, worse than the dumpster idea.

“You want me to get changed in front of you?!” A hot guy I worked with and his attractive brother that I met ten minutes ago. “No way.”

“Behind us,” Elliot corrected.

“I’m not going to be part of that conversation,” Rowen established quickly, and his eyes flicked back to the road. “ETA is fifteen minutes, though. Just something to consider.”