Page 39 of Ruled By Rivalry

Begrudgingly, Rowen pulled over. “Five minutes,” he warned. “And then I’m leaving both of you here. We’re so late, it’s not even classy anymore.”

“I really don’t need to—” But Elliot jumped out of the car, cutting me off when he opened my door.

“Nope,” he simply said. Then turned to Rowen and nodded. “Be back in three.”

Which was when his hand slipped into mine, he pulled me out of the car, across the busy sidewalk, and into a storefront with a familiar logo.

The bell above the glass door rang as we stepped inside. My hand, for some reason, still in Elliot’s. My heart beating out of my chest because I was entering an Adeline Ashwood store wearing a fancy dress and sneakers, maybe?

Sorry, Mom.

The same golden clothing rail we had in the archives wound along one wall, displaying a limited number of dresses, suits, and shirts. Opposite the entrance, Adeline Ashwood’s signature bow protruded from the wall. In the middle of the store, two couches stood opposite each other with a coffee table between them.

Sleek, elegant, superior. Just the way the office had felt on my first day.

“Mr. Ashwood!” The sales assistant started in our direction, delight in her voice. “It’s been a while. How can I—?”

While Elliot politely shook her hand, he didn’t let her finish the sentence. “We have two minutes to find shoes that match this beautiful lady’s dress, Natalie.”

That was the first time her eyes trailed to me. I could hardly blame her when the Elliot Ashwood randomly walked into her otherwise boring shift.

Natalie nodded sternly, immediately focused on the task. “One of ours?” she asked as she assessed the dress. Her eyes flicked to Elliot’s and my intertwined hands, and I instinctively pulled away.

“A Melanie Peterson.”

The name obviously didn’t ring a bell, but her brows rose with an impressed look I wished Mom could see, anyway. If there was a way I could get a message to her, despite over ten years of missing her, the only thing it would say was They think the dress you designed and made is Adeline Ashwood, Mom. She’d freak out.

“It’s beautiful,” Natalie said absentmindedly, and by then, she was already halfway through the store by the shoe wall, each pair backlit with soft lighting. “Easy enough to pair. What’s your size?”

“7.5.”

“One more minute,” Elliot reminded, and Natalie moved faster, scanning the pairs on the wall. “Sorry for the rush. We just really need to—”

“These.” She got onto her tiptoes, reached the pair she wanted before Elliot could offer his help, and turned around with a proud grin on her face. “Lucky you, they’re a 7.5 too.”

Black lace stiletto heels, the intricate embroidery forming subtle Ashwood bows in their mesh paneling. The ribbon straps were branded and tied into a bow at the ankles as well, leaving the back open. The white “ADELINE ASHWOOD” lettering matched the neck- and hemline of my dress.

Perfect was what they were. Luxurious and expensive and way out of my budget. It felt wrong to even hold them in my hands.

“I assume you don’t want to try—”

Elliot decided for me. “Nope. We don’t even need the box.”

If I had a say in it, I’d try on every single piece in this place, including Camila’s dresses and Oliver’s suits. I’d never had a reason to go into a store I couldn’t afford anything in, so I would’ve loved to explore, but Rowen honked from outside just as Natalie typed something into her tablet. “Next time,” Elliot added, lower. “And put these on Rowen’s account.”

The awe on my face was probably not very subtle, and I almost apologized for acting this way—like I didn’t belong. The right thing to do would’ve been to fake nonchalance. Allegra Amato would be indifferent to this kind of thing, and those were the people Elliot usually hung out with. The kind of girls he usually bought expensive shoes for.

I couldn’t fake it this time, though. “It’s beautiful,” I muttered, throwing another glance around the store.

He didn’t follow my gaze. “Is it?”

I nodded, half my mind still wandering the boutique, the other trying to ignore the way he was still looking at me. Thoroughly and appreciative and only letting himself be startled when Rowen honked a second time. With an apologetic glance at Natalie, he gently pushed me out onto the street.

“Thank you.” I cast one last glance into the store before the bell above the door chimed and the sound of New York City’s evening traffic hit me with full force.

“I mean—I know a thank-you won’t cut it. This is—” I raised the heels in front of us. “They’re perfect. I don’t know how I could ever make up—”

Elliot hummed in the back of his throat, amusement and satisfaction in the sound when he opened the door to Rowen’s car for me. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something, Maeve.”