Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(81)

I handed her the tea, took my coffee, and strolled back to the sunshine. Spring wrestled its way into the city, carrying cherry blossoms, sunrays, and seasonal allergies. The trial was nearing its end with every day that passed, and with it my goodbye to Christian.

“You were the head of the luncheon committee at your local country club, were you not?” I asked, skipping over a French bulldog’s leash.

“Yes, but—”

“And you were the director of my school’s charity board?”

“So what! That doesn’t mean—”

I stopped in front of my door. I wasn’t going to invite her up. Mainly because I had to get ready and meet Christian in a few hours at the pool. Indulging in this sinful affair was quickly taking over bigger chunks of my life.

“Come work for me,” I uttered, without even realizing what I was saying. “You have good organizational skills, you look presentable, and you know how to convince people to put money into things. That’s what you’ve been doing your whole life. Come work as a marketing assistant for me.”

“Arya.” My mother placed a hand over her heart. “You cannot be serious. I can’t work a nine-to-five job at my age.”

“You can’t?” I asked. “That’s a nice use of words. Because I was under the impression that you both can and should, considering the financial situation you are about to get into.”

“I’m not like other people.”

“Isn’t that what we all think?” I wondered aloud. “That we’re different? Special? Born for bigger, brighter things? Maybe, Mother, you are just like me. Just a little less well planned. And a lot more prone to surprises.”

I got into my building and slammed the door in her face.



Christian was waiting for me at the indoor swimming arena of the gym, his body sprawled over the edge of the pool. He was lazily stunning, like the Creation of Adam painting. Each individual ridge of his six-pack was prominent, and his biceps bulged. I noticed his upper body was still dry.

He’d waited for me.

I tossed my towel over one of the benches, swaggering over to him. The pool was normally empty by the time we met. It gave us privacy. Security in the knowledge no one was going to catch us. Even if they did, what could they say? We were just two strangers, swimming in different lanes, directions, and streams of life.

“Beautiful.” He looked up. For a second there, I allowed myself to fantasize that we were a real couple. Everything was normal, familiar, soaked with potential. But then I remembered. Remembered what he’d done today before coming here. Remembered this was only a charade. A distraction. A means to satisfy a very feral need. I slapped my swim cap over my head.

“Miller.” I dived headfirst into the lane next to his. I resurfaced moments later, swimming to the edge of the pool, to him. “How’s the trial moving?”

“Rapidly.” He slid into the pool effortlessly. The water was warm, perfect, the scent of chlorine and bleach heavy around us. “We’ll be making our closing statements sometime next week. You’re not planning to come, are you?”

I shook my head. A part of me pretended my dad had died. In a way, he had. Because the version of him I loved so much was gone, or maybe had never been there.

Christian dipped his head into the water and emerged with waterdrops clinging to his thick eyelashes. “Good.”

“Are we going to compete or what?” I asked. We did a front crawl. Fifty meters. He always won. But I always tried.

Usually, that was when Christian gave me an amused look. But not today. Today, he stared at me with something that resembled guilt. But since the bastard had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t remorseful about nailing my dad’s coffin to the ground, maybe it was just in my head.

“You want to compete again?” he asked. “When are you going to stop?”

“When I win.”

“You may never win.”

“Then I may never stop.”

“I pity the man who marries you.”

“I applaud the many women after me who’ll dump you.”

We ready-steady-goed. I gave it my all, fighting harder, swimming faster, than I ever had before. When I completed the lap and hit the edge of the pool, I looked back and saw that Christian was still trailing a few feet behind me.

For the first time, he’d let me win. On purpose. I didn’t like that.

Don’t let him pity you.

But how could he not, when he knew what was coming for me? For my family?

Suddenly, I felt very foolish. Foolish for sleeping with this man, who had gone after my father, even if he did deserve it. Foolish for giving in after I had bet Christian I wouldn’t be coaxed into his bed.

Foolish because he was still a mystery, carefully wrapped in a cunning smile and a dashing suit.

When he hit the wall, he shook water from his hair. His grin dropped as soon as he saw what must have been a scowl on my face.

“What?” he asked.

“You let me win.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” We sounded like kids.

“And what if I did?” he scoffed.

“Then stop. Remember I’m your equal.”

“That means I can’t be good to you?”

“Good, yes.” I pulled out of the pool, leaving him behind. “Deceitful? Never.”