Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(56)

“Better get your game on.” She offered me a vixenish wink.

I watched her go, feeling robbed somehow.

Ari and Nicky.

Nicky and Ari.

Then, I hadn’t been enough.

I was going to prove to her that nowadays, I was more than she could handle.



Later that evening, Arsène and I were in a trendy SoHo bar when we met Jason Hatter, a nice enough chap who’d gone to Harvard Law School with me. He spotted us from across the bar, kissed his date’s cheek, and made his way to us. He told us he’d recently made it to partner at his own firm, but he looked about as jolly as a man who had to lick armpits for a living.

“You’re still not partner?” Jason asked, more surprised than cocky about it. He was a nice guy, but he sure was as tactless as a used napkin.

“Christian is still working his charms on Daddy and Daddy.” Arsène patted the small of my back, like I was his date or some shit. I swatted his hand away with a glare.

“I’ll be made partner this year,” I told Jason.

“Well, I don’t doubt it. You have made yourself quite a name. My girlfriend’s asking if you’re seeing anyone.”

I thought about Arya, not Claire, before shaking my head. “But no offense, pal, I’m not into the whole threesome thing.”

Jason laughed. “I meant she wants to set you up with a friend.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “Not into that either.”

After Jason left, Arsène turned to look at me, a smirk full of triumph playing on his lips. “Back to your story. Just so we’re on the same wavelength here, you’re saying you chased her down the street?”

I cradled my brandy, rubbing my knuckles over my jaw. “Correct.”

“And then,” Arsène continued, speaking extra slowly, staring at me like I should be wearing a helmet, because I was a danger to myself and everyone around me, “you bet her you could make her sleep with you, even though you don’t even have her phone number?”

“I do have her phone number,” I pointed out. “She just didn’t technically volunteer it to me.”

“Define technically.”

“I asked my secretary to find it.”

Arsène nodded silently, letting me digest just how crazy it sounded to an outsider.

“Then you almost kissed her.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Because . . . ?”

“That would complicate things.”

This one was a lie. Truth was, I’d known she’d push me away, and I was biding my time.

“Sorry to break it to you, bud, but the train of complicated has departed. You’re in dumpster-fire territory. Bottom line is, you’re toast,” Arsène said matter-of-factly. “You never cross the line of professionalism. With Arya, you ran over that bitch with a Formula One car, then did doughnuts on it.”

“Don’t make me the saint I’m not.” I swirled my drink in its tumbler. And then, because apparently I now wanted to prove my lack of professionalism, “I had sex with Claire.”

“Some sex it was. The woman was more vanilla than a fudge-cake ice cream. You kept her around out of sheer convenience and did everything in your power to keep your affair under wraps. Plus, it didn’t even last three months.”

“Claire was bad press, even after I informed HR about us.” I waved him off. “She works under me.”

“Not in the way she’d like.” Arsène tilted his glass up, downing his drink, and slammed it against the wooden bar. “Besides, it was never about the press. Arya Roth is your kryptonite. You should’ve never taken the case, and now you can’t back down. Unless, of course, you want to see your career go up in flames.”

A busty redhead slid between us just then, wrapped in a black leather skirt and what looked like a red bra missing a few parts. She shot me a feline smile, jerking her head sideways. “My friends over there bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t get you to buy me a drink. What do you think?”

“I think”—I smiled cordially, leaning toward her, whispering in her ear—“you just became fifty bucks poorer.”

The woman’s smile morphed into a scowl, and she backed away, stomping back to her clones. She was exactly my type, but I needed a little more than a carbon copy of my last one-night stand. I wanted someone to challenge me, to fight me, to drive me nuts. And that someone was currently blue balling me for going after her father.

I turned back to Arsène, finding him beyond amused as he shook his head. “So toast.”

“What now?” I hissed.

“Old Christian wouldn’t say no to a night of no-strings-attached sex with Jessica Rabbit.”

“Old Christian doesn’t have to wake up at six tomorrow to prepare for trial.”

“Sure.” Arsène patted my shoulder, chuckling. “New Christian can sell himself this load of baloney if it makes him feel better.”



That evening, when I took an Uber back home, I asked the driver to make a pit stop at Arya’s work address. I didn’t care what Arsène thought. All I needed was one taste before I discarded Arya right along with her father back to my past.

I knew Arya and I had no future. Not only because she’d pretended to be a trustworthy person only to stab me in the back, but also because she literally thought I was someone else. A relationship wasn’t on the table. Arya would run for the hills the minute she found out who I really was.