Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(90)

“Shit,” he surprised me by saying.

“Indeed.”

“Grabbing my keys and coming. Beer?”

I rubbed my eye sockets. “Go north. Way north.”

“Brandy?”

“More like a bullet.”

“A bottle of A. de Fussigny and a full metal jacket coming right up.”



That night, I didn’t sleep. Wasn’t dumb enough to even try. I ended up polishing off that cognac Arsène had brought over, then hitting the indoor gym in my building. I hopped into the shower, got dressed for work, went through the same predictable motions . . .

Only I didn’t go to work.

The firm—the company I’d wanted to take over more than anything else in my life—had become trivial, laughably inconsequential. A shiny toy that had kept me occupied while life happened in my periphery. Every time I tried to muster the motivation to haul ass to the place that deposited seven figures into my bank account annually, I couldn’t help but feel like a hamster getting ready to hop on a wheel. The constant spinning got me nowhere. More money. More wins. More dinners I didn’t like with clients I loathed.

It occurred to me that I wasn’t only jaded; I was dizzy from solving other people’s problems all the time. Well, now I had a problem of my own to solve. Arya knew I was Nicky and that I’d kept it a secret from her.

Even more horrifying—she knew I was Nicky and therefore that I was worthless.

I went straight to Arya’s office that morning, arriving at eight o’clock sharp. An hour before opening. I’d spent enough mornings with Arya to know she was an early riser and liked to be at the office before the birds arose.

As it turned out, this was the one morning when Arya had decided to sleep in. I watched Whitley and her sidekick march through the door at nine o’clock, throwing murderous looks my way, then Jillian joining them at nine thirty. Arya was nowhere to be found until ten past ten, when I noticed her briskly turning a corner onto the side street and making her way to her office building, looking like a summer storm. An unthawable ice queen ready to conquer the world.

I stood up from the step leading to the front of her building’s door. She didn’t slow down when she spotted me through her sunglasses. She stopped when our bodies were flush against one another, swung her arm backward, and slapped me so hard I was pretty sure parts of my brain were splattered on the sidewalk.

“I deserved that.”

“You deserve much more than that after the revenge plot you planned for me and my family, Nicky.”

Nicky. I hadn’t heard that name in years. Only Arya had called me that. Ruslana had tried it on her tongue a few times and found it distasteful. I missed it.

“No revenge plot.” I rubbed at my cheek. I was mesmerized by her. Like I hadn’t seen her dozens of times before, in compromising positions, stark naked and sucking different parts of my body. Was this what love felt like? Wanting to kiss and protect the woman you wanted to ram into from behind? How peculiar. And nauseating. And so terribly predictable of me. Falling for the one woman I could never have. Who’d ruined everything, and I, in return, had done the same to her.

And this time, I didn’t even want to get even.

“Believe it or not, Amanda Gispen walked into my office one day by happenstance. Can’t say I didn’t live every day wanting to get back at your father for the years he put me through, but it wasn’t the first thing on my agenda.”

It had been the second thing, though, before she’d turned my life upside down, in true Arya fashion.

“There’s no excuse for what he did that day.” Arya stepped back, her face contorting in agony. “Trust me, I spent an entire year refusing to look at him. Then an entire lifetime second-guessing every decision I’ve made. Letting him off the hook always made me feel like I was on the wrong side of history. But he apologized for it and ended up sending you to live with your dad, like you wanted.”

“Is that what he told you?” I smiled tiredly. “Before or after I allegedly dropped dead?”

Her pink lips turned down into a scowl, but she didn’t answer.

“Trust me, beating the shit out of me in front of the girl I crushed on was the least of his sins. He made my mother throw me out the night I kissed you. I had to sleep on the neighbors’ couch. Then he put me in Andrew Dexter Academy and told you I was dead.”

Arya removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were shiny, full of tears. “I grieved you for years. Every day.”

“I grieved you, too, and I didn’t even think you were dead,” I said gruffly.

“You didn’t want to go?” Her voice was soft, pliant now.

I shook my head. I’d have chosen life in poverty if it meant being close to her.

“It wasn’t Conrad who told me you passed away. I hired a private investigator to find you when I turned eighteen, you know.” She sounded defeated. “He was the one to deliver the news.”

I smiled. “Now, let me guess.” I took a step forward, wanting to sniff her, to bury my hands in her hair, to kiss with both our past and our present, now that she knew who I was. “That private investigator guy, he worked for your father, didn’t he?” By the look on her face, I could tell I was right. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. But I’m not done telling you about the hell Conrad put me through.”