Page 83 of Ruled By Rivalry

But I was so fired up, felt so vindicated, I ignored it. Honestly, didn’t even really register his words. “Just to convince them that it’s obvious who they should take on full time at the end?”

Elliot shook his head, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t even want that full-time position. I couldn’t care less about Adeline Ashwood.” A beat of consideration. “The brand. Not my grandmother. I loved that woman.”

His ability to be unintentionally funny was starting to become annoying. Fast. Especially in situations like this, when I was supposed to be angry at him—I was—and yet he managed to make my lips twitch.

“You might not want it, but you definitely need it.” I’ve always been competitive, and when could that particular habit of mine surface more than during an argument? That’s what I thought we were having, at least.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Elliot!” I threw my hands up halfheartedly. “We all know you lose billions if you don’t win this.”

I realized it the same second he did. When my eyes widened and his narrowed. When he sat straighter, I tried to shrink away from his gaze. When the crease between his brows got more prominent, I cringed despite myself.

“How do you know that?” he asked, which was the final nail in the coffin. “Have you told anyone?”

I owed it to Paula and Henry to say, “I cannot reveal my sources.”

“Have you told anyone?” he repeated.

“No.” My head shook harder, all on its own. “No, of course not.”

“Good,” he sighed with relief. Then he gave me a serious look. “You can’t. It would ruin me.” Considering, he added, “More than I already am.”

And I couldn’t hold it back. Couldn’t let it go. We’d already addressed the elephant in the room; we might as well talk it out. “And losing against me wouldn’t?”

“It would be inconsequential. An honor,” he stressed.

“How could losing your inheritance be inconsequential?” I didn’t get it. Nothing about his words made sense, and with everything else going on, I had trouble wrapping my already spiraling thoughts around it.

“I’m just not worrying about who’s winning, Maeve. Either you get the job or I get the job. There’s nothing we can do about what happens until then.” I wanted to believe the sincerity in his voice, but—

“You could make sure I don’t show up. You could lie to me, then lie to them. Convince them I’m lazy and unreliable—”

“Come on. Nobody would believe that.”

“There are many things we could both do to make sure our own chances are higher.”

Like I had, with the paparazzi. Like he might have, today.

Elliot’s head fell back against the couch with a groan. “I didn’t want you in the office today because I had our PR people come in to discuss those articles. And I didn’t want you to know about those articles until I’d taken care of them, so you wouldn’t get stupid ideas and start reading them.”

He looked at me as if I’d proven him right just five minutes earlier, when I’d suggested doing exactly that.

“I came home, certain that I wouldn’t tell you. But then I saw you, and I barely managed to keep it to myself for a minute. It would’ve only been a matter of time until someone sent you one of them, anyway. Or you went on another one of your research frenzies.”

“I like to be prepared,” I argued, no longer making eye contact.

I’d jumped to conclusions so fast, I’d ended up on the other side of the world. We’d barely needed a single step to get to a reasonable explanation. A bad habit of mine, since I was usually right with my assumptions. I trusted them like they were based on well-researched facts, not gut feelings.

“I know,” he whispered, whatever fight previously in his voice blown away. “Sometimes you overprepare.”

“There’s no shame in that.”

“No.” His finger hooked below my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Just when you overprepare, research, and then come to your own conclusions without even talking to me . . . there are misunderstandings waiting to happen.”