Page 42 of Ruled By Rivalry

“But he meant the alcohol and Allegra and—” He shrugged. “God knows what else. The thing with Daphne and Ryan didn’t make it better. Hunter said that if the intern position wasn’t enough to make me realize what was at stake, there were other ways to show me.”

“By kicking you out of your home?”

“And taking my driver, freezing my credit cards, blocking all Ashwood purchases. The only thing he was gracious enough to leave me is my security.”

Pops was a grumpy man, didn’t laugh often, and even then, I couldn’t imagine him doing anything like that.

Hunter Ashwood was a different caliber. Powerful, cruel, mean. Enough of those things to cut his youngest grandson off for as little as a night out. A night he only knew about because of me.

Okay, I think I was officially starting to feel bad. I needed to change topic, and fast. “A surprise that you and Rowen turned out to be at least . . . decently mannered.”

Unfortunately, behind those sweet dimples and blue eyes, he was still my sworn enemy. I wished he looked like one, too.

“There wasn’t enough of those decent manners for all four of us, so we’re the only lucky ones,” he joked, seeming grateful that I wasn’t dwelling on his confessed conversation. “Alexander’s a dickhead. And Kai . . . You’ll know what I mean after having to sit through that dinner with them on Friday.”

It sounded a little too much like an official meet-the-family thing. The only reason I was looking forward to it was getting to peel back another one of Elliot’s many layers.

“Kai’s that bad?”

“Not bad.” He hesitated. “Blunt, grumpy. Socially inept,” he added as an afterthought. “He doesn’t say much, but when he does . . . oh, boy.” A laugh that seemed genuine, despite his harsh descriptors. “Great for business. But I’m not surprised he’s been single for the past twenty-eight years.”

“I assume he’s twenty-eight?”

“Did you do your research on him, too?”

“I think that’s just called drawing logical conclusions. He doesn’t look like he could be much older yet. Or is that just Photoshop?” No point in denying the fact that I had done my research.

Elliot’s smile widened. He took a step toward me. With one hand, he leaned onto the counter. Tilted his head. “Are you calling my brother hot?”

It must’ve been the expensive wine, or the fact that it was past my bedtime. The joke hadn’t been that funny, but I barked a laugh anyway. He looked proud of himself. “It’s no secret you guys are pretty lucky.”

“With?”

“Your genes.”

That was a normal thing to say, right?

The fact was universally acknowledged, and I was sure it wasn’t a revelation to Elliot, either. He’d grown up with models throwing themselves at him when he’d been barely old enough to drive. With girls turning around for a second look when they passed him on the street. With pretty friends and an even prettier ex-girlfriend, I was sure his good looks weren’t a surprise to him.

Still, the way his brow rose made my skin burn.

“Oh.” He chuckled, and the sound traveled all the way into a region it shouldn’t have. “You’re calling me hot.”

I rolled my eyes just to be doing something. “If that’s what you’re deriving from that.”

“I’m just saying,” he went on, tapping a finger against the counter. “That sounded awfully close to a compliment again. And just after calling me decently mannered, too. Is that wine getting to you, Lucky?”

Maybe. Probably. Most likely, because I think he’d just taken another step closer.

But Elliot wouldn’t do that, and I wouldn’t let him.

The heat beneath my skin was undeniable at this point, trying to convince me of another option I wouldn’t let myself consider. “I think that wine is starting to get to you, if calling you decently mannered is such a big deal.”

“It wouldn’t usually be.” Elliot leveled our gazes to make his point. “But you said it, Maeve.”

Pull yourself together. Repeating those words wasn’t helping.

He smelled like expensive wine and cologne, like forbidden prayers and don’ts and shouldn’ts. The kitchen was too small, and he was so close, everywhere, all-consuming. The silence stretched the tension in the air, thinned it until my breath became too shallow to hide.