Page 21 of Ruled By Rivalry

Elliot be damned. Last night was supposed to show Adeline Ashwood, the board, and his grandfather that he wasn’t fit for the position they’d put him in. That he was reckless and irresponsible and would rather continue partying than work for his family’s business. He was supposed to have a fun night out with Allegra, not scheme business plans with Annual ambassadors.

That’s exactly what he’d done, though. Now, nobody would be talking about that article anymore, and it only came out an hour ago. Instead, whispers in the halls said, How’d he manage to score ambassadors of that caliber for himself? What did he say to get them to agree? Are we sure he can pull this off?

At least there was some doubt among the office staff.

Meanwhile, I was pacing. Up and down the lobby, fanning my hair out and patting the sweat on my forehead away. Suddenly, the white pencil skirt and oversized button-up tucked into it seemed like a bad idea. Appropriate for the weather, sure, but not for meeting Hollywood’s most sought-after couple. The skirt was too short, the shirt too casual, and the white headband way too sporty.

“It is, right?” I asked the security guard for the third time, not bothered that he hadn’t even answered me after the first.

Instead of critiquing my outfit, he said, “Are you going to be doing that much longer?” Voice as gruff as I remembered and that smile-but-not-smile on his full lips just as confusing.

I wasn’t sure if he meant my pacing or the outfit questions, so I stopped both.

Briefly, I wondered if the air-conditioning was broken; I felt like I was melting. But his cheeks weren’t even flushed, so it must’ve been me who had broken. “Sorry.” I winced. “Just waiting on someone.”

“Elliot Ashwood?”

My head snapped in his direction. “Ambassadors,” I corrected, too confused to say much else. “What—?”

His hands shot up in amused surrender. “I’m just saying,” he singsonged. “You left together the other day. Amir doesn’t just forget these things. Don’t look so surprised.”

But I was. Very. And not about the fact he’d just spoken about himself in the third person.

“Because we both wrapped things up at the same time.” My first instinct was to defend myself. Not everyone needed to know we’d gotten drinks together, or they might all start looking at me the way Amir was now. With raised brows and suuuuure written all over their face.

I was certain he would’ve elaborated on it if it weren’t for the door he had to open for . . .

My breath hitched, just a little bit.

Daphne Martin’s blond hair fell so perfectly, I couldn’t be sure whether her beachy waves were natural or styled. She wore silk head to toe: a baby-pink skirt about the same length as mine (thankfully, not inappropriate then) and a loose, white, sleeveless top with a ribbon tied around it to keep it in place.

It seemed silly and nitpicky, but I wished her engagement ring was gold, not silver. Just to match the rest of her jewelry: a heart pendant necklace and subtle earrings barely visible through her luscious hair.

Ryan’s arm draped around her shoulder, and his brown eyes scanned the entrance. The waiting area with its white couches and coffee table and fresh flowers in one corner, the reception in the other. Then the security gates, the security guard, and finally me. My heart might’ve stopped beating at the prolonged eye contact because, well, this was Ryan Quinn. Oscar-winning, teenage-heart-stealing, upcoming Hollywood legend Ryan Quinn.

And if it weren’t for the engagement band on his finger, the fact that he was gently caressing his fiancée’s shoulder, and the realization that she was by far the prettiest person on the planet, I might’ve thought his look lingered on me for a second longer than it should’ve.

As we shook hands, I kept my polite smile from breaking into an I’m-such-a-huge-fan grin. Hard work, trust me.

“So, you must be Maeve,” Daphne figured, tugging a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “We’ve heard so much about you already.”

“Have you?” My eyes zeroed in on the third person with them. Too tall, too eye-catching, to be their assistant, manager, or security. Elliot winked at me from behind them, just to emphasize that he was back—and with another advantage.

Twenty minutes alone in a car with our ambassadors.

Daphne nodded, entirely unaware of the downward spiral she’d just caused in my head. “On the way over, yeah. Elliot couldn’t stop going on and on about how great you two work together.” With a single side-glance at him, she added, “I can see why now.”

But we’d never worked together at all.

So far, it didn’t seem like he’d used those twenty minutes with them to talk shit about me, so that was . . . good? Not bad, at least.

How great you two work together.

“We ran into each other at the hotel after you left last night. Allegra and I showed them the city before we ended up at Avenue. Shame you weren’t there.” They couldn’t know it, but Elliot was showing his hand clearly now. Flaunting and taunting the access to resources I couldn’t begin to dream of.

“He suggested taking over our Annual looks, and we just thought . . . why not? Elliot’s like a breath of fresh air, and he does dress like he knows what he’s doing.” Daphne shrugged, then clapped her hands together in delight I couldn’t quite get myself to share. I took a deep breath and tried regardless.

“Efficient as always, aren’t you?” My hand waved toward the elevator, cheeks starting to strain with how widely I was smiling at Elliot. “Let’s get started, then.”