Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(63)

CHRISTIAN

Present

She was here.

In my domain, in my territory, in my claws.

Whether it was her father who’d pushed her into my arms or the mystery surrounding me, Arya had finally taken the bait. She looked exhausted. The outline of her ribs poked through her blouse. There was something haunting about her face. But I’d take her any way I could have her. That, at least, hadn’t changed.

We had a pleasant meal, although I could tell her mind was elsewhere. My bet was that Daddy dearest had finally owned up to his wrong deeds and she’d had to not only face the truth but swallow it whole. After I paid (I wondered if watching her write a check for all the meals I’d paid for was going to be as sweet as drowning myself inside her), I suggested we take a walk.

“I could use a walk.” Arya surprised me by not being her usual defiant self. We strolled along Greenwich Avenue. The street was bustling with people, dogs, and life. As surreal as being with her again in New York was, I couldn’t stop myself from enjoying it. Countless times I’d imagined myself as a teenager taking her places. I’d fantasized about being someone else. The son of a surgeon and a child psychologist, maybe. Taking Conrad Roth’s precious daughter for ice cream. He’d have let me too.

“My father wondered if your clients would be open to a settlement.” Arya wrapped her arms around herself, her cheeks flushed with the wine and the meal.

Ah. So this was what this dinner was about. A grim smile found my lips. “We weren’t open to settlement pretrial, so that’s a goddamn stretch if I ever saw one. Also, I’d appreciate if next time he uses his attorneys as a channel of communication.”

She pursed her lips.

I nudged her shoulder with mine as we walked. “Hey. Let’s not talk about that.”

There was a lull, but then Arya forced herself to smile. “So tell me about your childhood. I’m still trying to figure out where I’ve seen you before.”

This was my chance to come clean, if I’d ever had one. Since I wasn’t a complete moron, I passed on the opportunity. But it was a reminder I couldn’t romance this woman. I was deceiving her to the highest degree by not revealing my true identity.

“I grew up here in New York. Went to a private school when I was fourteen. My parents and I didn’t really get along.”

“What do your parents do?”

“My father owns a deli, and my mother managed an estate.”

So far, not one lie. Although my sperm donor’s shop was a continent away, and my mother had managed the Roths’ estate by sweeping the floors.

“Do I know this private school?”

“You do.”

“Does it have a name?”

“It does,” I confirmed.

“Wow, you’re really not going to tell me.” But her eyes clung to my face, the distant sparkle of hope willing me to contradict her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

“So how did you find yourself at Harvard Law School, seeing as you and your parents aren’t on speaking terms? Don’t tell me you got a full ride. That’s nearly impossible. Especially in your tax bracket.”

She still believed I came from money. I didn’t correct her assumption. This was the point when I considered how much to tell her. Only Riggs and Arsène knew my story. Ultimately, I realized it didn’t really matter.

“Promise not to judge?”

“Can’t promise that, Counselor. But I’m not usually the judgy type.”

I stuffed my hands into my front pockets. “I had a . . . a sponsor of sorts.”

“Phew, I was worried you were going to confess to bestiality.” She pretended to wipe her brow. “What’s a sponsor, exactly? Is that a code for sugar mama? Or is the correct term a cougar these days?”

“I’m not sure what the terminology for it is, but she’s the one who put me through law school when I couldn’t even afford the train ticket to Boston.”

“Wait, she shelled out six figures for your education?” Arya sobered up. “Are you that good in bed?”

I let out a laugh that seeped into my bones. It was the first time I’d really laughed in decades. My body wasn’t used to that anymore.

“First of all, the answer is yes, I am, in fact, that good in bed. Second, get your mind outa the gutter. Mrs. Gudinski was in her fifties when I was in high school. She was very lonely. I was a stable boy.”

“Sounds like a well-produced porn movie so far.”

I bumped my shoulder into hers again, and we both laughed.

“She had horses. Expensive ones. But she only came to visit them, never to ride. Her late husband was an amateur equestrian. She kept the horses to honor him but had no interest in them whatsoever. She had too much money and no one to spend it on. She needed someone to keep her company during the holidays. Someone to visit her on the weekends. You know. Someone to care.”

“And that someone was you?” Arya raised a skeptical eyebrow.

I flashed her a wounded frown. “Me and my closest friends, who I roped into it. Together, we became one big, screwed-up family.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. Tell me what you think.”

“You don’t strike me as a caring person.”