The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(81)

Samson could tell after a couple weeks. He also held her properly. Peter had never cuddled her like that.

Think about Samson later. Business now.

“Peter.”

He raised an eyebrow at her cool tone. As usual, he was buttoned up and down in a suit, though he’d left his tie off, probably as a nod to the weekend and casual atmosphere. “Rhiannon. How did you sleep last night?”

This fucker. “Like a log, thank you.” She beamed at him, the better to irritate him.

He picked a piece of lint off his sleeve. “And Samson? I saw him briefly today, in gym shorts no less. What exactly is that meathead’s job when he’s not filming dumb ads?”

“Talk a little louder. I’m sure Annabelle would love to hear you calling her close family friend a meathead.”

Peter bared his teeth. “Ready to lose?”

“Nope.” Her smile was thin, and she hoped she looked every bit as confident as she didn’t feel. “Won’t happen.”

“I guess we’ll see.” He checked his watch, his annoyed frown lifting her spirits a little. For all that she rolled her eyes at this drama, it was satisfying Peter hated it more.

“I’m here!” Annabelle swept into the garden. The older woman had changed out of her casual clothes. She wore a glittery pink evening gown that clung to her curvy figure. Her hair was caught in a sparkly headband, and her earrings were flamingos.

Annabelle beamed at them and motioned them closer so they stood in a triangle. “Update: Chris has opted to withdraw from bidding on Matchmaker.”

“And then there were two,” Peter murmured, and he gave Rhiannon a smug smile.

How strange. Chris wasn’t the type to drop out of any race. Rhiannon wondered what had happened. She couldn’t tell if Peter had known about Chris, but he clearly didn’t think it affected his chances either way.

Annabelle took a deep breath and Rhiannon prepared herself to wait. If the older woman stood true to form, she was going to drag this out until kingdom come. Were there cameras? Was she going to pin roses on their lapels?

Annabelle looked Peter dead in the eye. “Peter. I’ve opted to decline your offer.” She switched her gaze to Rhiannon before either of them could react. “Rhiannon, come to my office.” And with that, she swept out the way she’d come.

It took a second for Rhi’s feet to move. Holy shit. Had she . . . won? Was that what had happened?

“What just happened?” Peter wheezed.

So she wasn’t the only one in shock. “I think . . .” Rhiannon said slowly. “I think you got rejected.” An unholy glee took over her shock. “I know you don’t handle that well, but hopefully you can refrain from melting down like you did when I rejected you.”

Rhi started walking away, to follow Annabelle, but Peter blocked her path. She cocked an eyebrow. “Move. I have a deal to close.”

An angry red flush suffused Peter’s face. How had she ever thought this man was attractive? Or good for her?

Because you didn’t know better.

When you were in a stew of toxicity, sometimes you reached for the least bitter piece of meat. She wasn’t going to beat herself up for how good he’d been at tricking her.

“If you think this somehow makes you better than me, you’re mistaken,” Peter hissed.

It was probably unwise to taunt a man who looked as angry as Peter did, but . . . eh. Fuck it. “I don’t think I’m better than you,” Rhiannon explained. “I know I’m better than you. And pretty soon the whole world will know it, too, won’t they?” She dropped her gaze to Peter’s fists. “Do you want to hit me?” Exhilaration made her brave, or maybe reckless. She took a step closer to him, on the path she’d follow to speak with Annabelle and claim her crown. “Go on. How will you explain a black eye? That I was asking for it?”

Slowly, he unclenched his fingers.

Tough talk aside, the knot of apprehension in her chest eased. She nodded. “Now move.”

They waited in a tense standoff for a few seconds, but Peter finally budged. She could feel his gaze on her back, drilling a hole, but with each step she took, pride and accomplishment took the place of her fear and nervousness.

She found Annabelle in her office, seated at her desk, scribbling something. The older woman looked up when Rhiannon entered and gestured for her to close the door.

Her beautiful Willy Wonka.

Rhiannon’s butt had barely hit the chair when Annabelle shoved a folded piece of paper across the desk. “That’s my counteroffer,” she said crisply.

This was a little unexpected, but not wholly so. Rhiannon had anticipated some negotiation. So long as she wasn’t the one angrily grabbing her bags and exiting the mansion right now like Peter undoubtedly was, she was fine with some friendly wrestling over dollars and cents.

Rhiannon opened the paper and choked at the number written there. “This is a much higher counter.”

Annabelle folded her hands on the desk. “It’s what Peter offered.”

That son of a bitch. He’d been willing to overpay for this company, just to make sure Rhiannon got shut out? Because that’s what this amount was. A vast overpayment.

She folded the paper. “I’ll have to check with my partner.” This was much higher than what she and Katrina had agreed their final number would be.