Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(95)

He was so off the mark it took everything in me not to laugh.

“Miss Lesavoy got fired because she betrayed my professional and personal confidence. If you want a rat in your company, which I assume you do, since you’re both rodents, I strongly encourage you to reoffer her the position.”

With that, I slammed the door in their faces.

And damn, it felt good.



I waited for Arya outside her office building that evening. Not accustomed to acting like a puppy or feeling like one, my ego took its first bruise in years.

Fine, it was more of a cut than a bruise.

Okay. My ego was completely decapitated. Served the jerk right. It’d gotten me into plenty of trouble over the years.

“Shall I remind you I’m going to get you disbarred if you don’t leave me alone?” Arya complained as soon as she set foot out of the door, skipping the pleasantries. She wore a red leather pencil skirt paired with a smart white blouse and looked like heaven on earth. It was a wonder how I’d ever let her out of my bed in the first place.

I caught up with her easily as she made her way to the subway. “Disbar me,” I said flatly, my shoulder brushing hers.

She made an exasperated sound, shaking her head. “Leave me alone.”

“Have your parents spoken to you since the trial?” I asked.

Another sulk. “Like you care.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. She stopped, turning sharply to face me, throwing my hand off, fire blazing in her eyes.

“I do.” I stubbed my chest with my finger. “Care. Every single day, I try to talk to you. So don’t tell me I don’t care, Arya, when it’s entirely possible I’m the only asshole who does in your life.”

“I don’t want you to care.” Her voice broke. “That’s the point. I told you I’ll get you disbarred if you don’t leave me alone because no part of me wants you in my life.”

“No part?” I repeated.

She shook her head. “None at all.”

“Liar.” I took a step forward, cupping her cheeks in my hands. “I quit.”

Her green eyes widened, taking over her face. “You quit?” she echoed.

“Yes.” I rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in for a second. “I gave up the partnership. Told them to go screw themselves. But not before firing Claire for what she did to us. I may be a bastard orphan, but honey, so are you. I wish you weren’t. I wish your parents would’ve been there for you the way you deserved. I’m here, though, and I’m going to try my best to be enough.”

And then it just came out. Poured out of me.

“I love you, Arya Roth. I’ve loved you the entire time. From that first day at the cemetery, when we were kids. When everything around us was dead, and you were so alive I wanted to swallow you whole. When you put that little stone on Aaron’s grave so he’d know you came to visit. I loved you that day, for your heart, and every day after that. I never stopped loving you. Even when I hated you. Especially when I hated you, in fact. It was agonizing, thinking you’d forgotten about me. Because Arya? There hadn’t been a minute in my life when I hadn’t thought about you.”

There was a moment—a fraction of it, anyway—when I thought she was going to concede. Finally cave in to that thing between us. But then Arya stepped backward, readjusting the strap of her shoulder bag, her head tipped up defiantly. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Being partly responsible for your decision to quit. Because it doesn’t change anything.”

She wasn’t partly responsible. She was wholly responsible. But there was no point in pointing that out, because now that I’d quit, I knew I should’ve done that years ago. Regardless of her. When you do something right, you feel it in your bones.

“Yes, it does.” I smiled. “It changes one fundamental thing, Arya.”

“And that is?”

“Now I can chase you however much I like. Because your dad’s case means jack shit to me, and you know damn well I don’t give that much of a crap about getting disbarred, seeing as I just quit. It’s on, Ari. I will win you.”

“I’m not a prize.”

I turned around and walked away. “No, you’re not. You’re everything.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


ARYA

Present

While the city slid into a colorful spring, a vast black hole formed in my parents’ penthouse.

No word went in and no word got out. The Roths had vanished, disappeared from the face of the earth.

My mother was the one I tried repeatedly. I felt compelled to look after her, now that I knew my father had emotionally abused her. She was unreachable via phone, email, or text messages. As for my father, I never tried to contact him again after the string of scathing text messages he’d left me the day he’d gotten convicted. His ability to cancel his emotions toward me like they were a streaming-service subscription proved that said feelings had never really been there.

Finally, after seven days of radio silence, I made my way to the Park Avenue penthouse. As I took the elevator up to the last floor, a tug of worry pulled at my stomach. I realized they might not even be there anymore. What if they’d moved? My parents owned the property, but there was no way they could keep it with the amount of money they had to pay after losing the case. I had no idea what the stipulations were. How much time they had to come up with the money. I suppose Christian could’ve given me answers to all these questions, but I couldn’t ask him. Couldn’t make any contact with him. My defenses were already spent, my mental core raw.