Page 90 of Ruled By Rivalry

“No one,” I said, so fast his brows immediately furrowed. “Nothing. I—should go. Lots of work to do.”

If I’d allowed myself more time with him, I might say things I didn’t mean. Or maybe I did. Asshole. Cheater. Privileged rich kid who cares about no one but himself.

I brushed past him, and I wasn’t sure if my shoulder hitting his was my subconscious, taking its last chance to feel his body against mine, or the part of me that was so pissed, it would take even the slightest chance to hurt him.

I hurried back to my office, and a single glance at the watch around my wrist let me know the head designers had just started their fashion week daily meeting, which meant I could slam Camila’s door forcefully without repercussions. Rattling on its hinges, the sound echoed through the studio. But it did nothing to get rid of . . . whatever I was feeling.

I refused to admit it was betrayal.

That meant I’d let my guard down enough to feel betrayed by him in the first place. When I should’ve known—always had, a little bit—that it would come to this. I’d just been so blinded by Elliot’s shiny facade, I let myself forget.

On the table, Camila had left another note: Working from home after my meeting. I need a nap. x

I locked her studio door, threw myself into my chair, and didn’t look up from sketches and fabric samples and color palettes until well after the sun set. Once, the door handle had rattled, and I knew who it was without looking up.

I didn’t look up.

It wasn’t fair to punish him for a decision his grandfather made. Or maybe it was. Maybe he’d convinced Hunter Ashwood he was the best candidate.

I changed my mind about that every other minute. From blaming him to making excuses.

Eventually, Elliot gave up. My phone vibrated against the desk one last time with a text asking me to leave with him. Which I also ignored.

I should have stuck with my principles. I should have listened to the words Mom had ingrained in my mind for most of my life. Always look out for yourself first, and never depend on anyone else, honey. Especially not a man. You’re very capable of providing and taking care of yourself.

After Dad left, she hadn’t mentioned him again, but I knew he was in the back of her mind whenever she talked like that. Because he’d left her high and dry, let her go through the struggles of being a single mom and raising a little girl all by herself. From what I’d gathered, he would’ve had the finances to support both of us well beyond our needs.

But she’d never heard from him again, and Mom wasn’t the begging type. Never had been.

God, if I’d just listened to her, I wouldn’t be in this situation now. Wouldn’t have let a man distract me from something I’d worked toward my entire life, and I wouldn’t have let him come between me and my determination in the first place, either.

It must’ve been midnight by the time my head collapsed against the table, full of thoughts I’d never had before and doubts I’d never felt. Was taking the Adeline Ashwood internship the right decision? Would I have had more success if I’d gone to literally any other designer?

I passed Amir on the way out and couldn’t ignore the way his brows had risen. “No,” I deadpanned.

If I wasn’t in such an awful mood, I would’ve marveled at the way he laughed. Loud and boisterous, with none of his usual grumpy attitude. He innocently put up his hands. “Wasn’t going to say anything.”

“I know that’s a lie.”

His laugh was replaced by a sheepish smile, similar to Elliot’s when he said something he knew he shouldn’t have. “Goodnight, Miss Peterson.”

The door fell shut behind me, and I couldn’t focus on the fact that I might’ve just bonded with Amir when I was just so angry. It had taken four hours, but I was finally there. Being able to sort through my feelings enough to land on one emotion. Anger. Mostly at myself, for letting everything remind me of Elliot, which inevitably reminded me of the fact that he’d won. We still had over a month, and he’d already won.

The streets were emptier than I knew them to be. Then again, I’d never left the office quite this late. Maybe that’s why I said, loudly and without a look around, “If you’re Elliot’s security—leave.”

The last thing I needed was them telling him I was on my way home now. I didn’t want him waiting at the door, with takeout he’d ordered or a salad he’d tried to make or, God forbid, a desire to talk.

He’d said they didn’t report my whereabouts, but who knew what he was lying about anymore.

It seemed I’d been alone on the street until I wasn’t. Until a shadowy figure crossed to my side, and they’d gotten so close without saying a damn thing, for a second, I was worried it wasn’t Elliot’s security.

“I’ve gotten clear instructions, ma’am.”

A relieved breath and laugh as I relaxed. I hated that he’d been right; that I did feel safer with them around. I fought the feeling.

“And I’m giving them to you clearer.” My strides got bigger, pace picking up. He was effortlessly holding it. “Leave.”

Silence.