Page 73 of Ruled By Rivalry

He laughed, but it wasn’t nearly as pleasant a sound as his brother’s. Instead, subtle and low. Guarded.

Kai jumped in, said, “I hope you dropped the ridiculous sustainability thing.”

“It’s not just a ridiculous thing,” Elliot argued. Took another sip of wine, finishing his second glass. “And we haven’t dropped it.”

“We can’t afford any more critical think pieces by wannabe journalists at The Goss, Elliot. You’re fueling enough of those simply by existing.”

Alex rolled his eyes while his brothers went on.

“Wouldn’t some positive coverage be nice for a change? I, for one, would love that for the company I’m forced to work at.” Elliot added, “The one you forced me to work at. Remember?”

“The board—”

“You,” Elliot cut him off. “Not the board. Not Hunter. You did, Kai. I know you did.”

Kai’s voice was still as monotone as it had been when he’d walked in. When Henry said the guy was a robot, he wasn’t kidding. “You’re wasting your life drinking, partying, going back and forth with Allegra Amato, of all fucking people. You can’t seriously still think working was a bad call.”

I shrunk back into my chair at the mention of Allegra and the headlines Elliot fueled by simply existing. How much worse would the situation be if they knew I’d fueled them, too?

“Whatever happened to not discussing work during dinner?” Mariette said, and was promptly ignored.

“Save your breath and call me the family disappointment already. There’s no need to give these elaborate speeches just to end up at that conclusion, anyway.” Elliot didn’t seem particularly fazed. His wine had been topped up, and he took another sip, just to be doing something.

I followed his lead, and the movement in his periphery must’ve reminded him of my presence.

“Let’s get back to nagging Maeve about her life, why don’t we?” When his eyes met mine, there was an amused gleam in their blue depths. He added, pointedly, “Alex was having so much fun.”

Chapter 29

They seemed genuinely interested in whatever questions Alex had. Eventually, the rest of them chimed in, perhaps to make up for the family argument I had witnessed. I talked about home, Texas, my grandparents, and how moving away for college was both the easiest and hardest thing I’d ever done. I mentioned Mom, how much she’d love this, and how it wasn’t just my dream I was living but hers.

Telling them about my life felt . . . exciting, easy. Like I was opening up a new world for them, where Texas didn’t always mean Austin, Dallas, or Houston; sometimes it meant a small town hundreds of miles from the next big city. Grandparents didn’t always mean a stinking rich grandfather, but Pops, saying he was fine when he’d needed a new hip for years, or Mimi, who still needed to work a few hours a week to afford basic groceries.

Family dinners weren’t an annoying weekly burden, but a rare commodity cherished and extended for as long as I could afford to stay away from college and work, which usually wasn’t long at all.

It must’ve been close to midnight when Mariette sent us on our way with her driver. The gentle rocking and whooshes of cars passing us was about ten seconds away from lulling me to sleep in the back seat, tinted window separating us from the front.

All it took for my body to hum awake again was the reminder of Elliot beside me when he sighed.

“What?” I asked, not sure why I was whispering.

“Nothing.” He didn’t seem entirely sure why he was whispering, either. “I didn’t know,” he said. “About your mom. Your grandparents.”

I closed my eyes again; they’d start stinging otherwise. “Couldn’t quite find the right moment to mention it between spilling coffee across your shirt and poisoning you.” With salt, but still.

He huffed from beside me, but the usual lightness in his voice was missing. I expected an I’m sorry. Are you okay? What happened?

Instead, he asked, “And you said she’s the reason you’re into fashion?”

“Yeah. She loved anything luxurious and different and pretty. Not that we could afford it, but—” I shook my head before it gently fell back against the window. “Yeah.”

Elliot hummed, let my words linger for one, two, three seconds. “Big Ashwood fan, then?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Elliot.” But I feared—

“Too late.”

Exactly that.