Page 48 of Ruled By Rivalry

I blinked at him, and he doubled down. “This isn’t some cute little college town, Maeve. Some seriously depraved people wander the streets.”

His words finally settled, and I stirred against my first instinct to . . . appreciate the gesture. Probably because five minutes ago, I’d still been talking to my grandparents, and if I had the money, I’d do the same for them. “Sending someone to stalk me day and night makes you one of those depraved people!”

From down the street, a familiar angry “Hey!” made its way to us, and I regretted raising my voice.

Elliot shrugged. “It’s not stalking.”

“Really? If—”

“You leave a place, and I tell them to make sure you get to your destination okay. It’s like asking a friend to walk you home—”

Now I cut him off. “Only that I’m not aware of their presence. Or who they are.”

His lips twisted into a smile, innocent and sweet. “They’re good at their job.”

“Elliot,” I warned.

“Maeve,” he singsonged.

I really wanted to hate the gesture. Wanted to feel the violation of my privacy, boundaries, and trust. Instead, my heart swelled and my pulse picked up.

My phone call with Mimi and Pops must’ve seriously deregulated my nervous system for a reaction like this. Sending his security after me was just another reminder of the power he held, power that he could easily use for nefarious aims. But I couldn’t get myself to believe it.

“What if . . . I don’t know . . . I go somewhere I don’t want you to know? What if I have secrets you can never find out about?”

He snickered, finally relaxed, and leaned against the stone balustrade. “Do you?”

I rolled my eyes.

“They’re not spies. Or private detectives. They don’t tell me where you go or what you do or who you’re meeting.” He raised his brows. “Sometimes you’re so much of a mystery, I wish they would.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, sheepish smile on his lips as his hands slipped into his pockets. A shiver ran down his body, just once. I could tell he was trying to play it off. “Call it curiosity.”

“You could just ask. What I’m doing. Where I’m going.”

“Sometimes I feel like you wouldn’t tell me.”

And he was right. Because there would always be a part of my brain convinced that he was doing all this to trick me. Taking me to fancy restaurants, buying expensive things, and almost kissing me in poorly lit kitchens until my guard was down and he could steal what undoubtedly belonged to me.

To avoid telling him all that, I asked, “How long have you been out here?”

“I don’t know. Five minutes. Ten. Twenty?” He rubbed his hands over his bare arms.

“And you’re obviously cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“We can go inside,” I offered.

“I don’t think I want to.”

My brows furrowed. Why wouldn’t he—“Oh,” I said. “Your girlfriend’s still there.”

Elliot laughed, and his head tilted to give me a look. “I thought you said you weren’t jealous.”

“I’m not.”