Page 80 of Ruled By Rivalry

My mother was currently rolling in her grave. And Camila would put me into my own, if she knew.

She took another step toward us, ready to rescue me should Elliot pounce and attack.

“Yes! Of course,” I said quickly. “Finished some brainstorming at home and came as soon as I could.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Elliot said you weren’t feeling well.”

Oh. Right.

“Feeling much better. Think I just needed some rest before getting back on my feet.”

Another suspicious glance in his direction before she finally seemed to let it go. Part of the reason it had been so easy was probably Hana, joining us in what had become a group meeting in the hallway.

“They’re waiting for you upstairs.” The words were directed at Elliot.

His nose twitched as he exhaled a loud breath. “Coming.”

Hana turned back on her heels, Camila gestured for me to follow her into the studio, and Elliot made sure all backs were turned toward us before he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and made his way to the elevators.

No explanatory words. No glances that could tell me who was waiting for him in the offices reserved for guests and stakeholders.

Screw trying not to worry. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t think of anything else.

Chapter 31

PAULA, two minutes ago

> what the fuck is this???

> anything you have to say for yourself??

Attached, three photos. Of me. And Elliot. On a green carpet, with the Ashwood Foundation logo on the press wall behind us. Backstage, looking at each other and standing closer than we should’ve been. After the auction, lingering at the bar together.

What the fuck, indeed. I swiped through the pictures three more times, on my way to google my own name for the first time in my life to see where she’d found these, and realized with a sense of startling awareness that anyone could do the same. That Camila could see these. That Oliver and Rachel could, too.

That I was officially connected to Elliot now, and all I could do was hope that my bosses didn’t habitually google their employees.

We should’ve been more careful, and I should’ve been smarter. Especially walking a carpet together. I was surprised the pictures weren’t worse.

The search bar already said Maeve Pe—when Paula’s contact photo popped up on my screen. I yelped in greeting, “I can explain!”

“You better explain.”

And so, walking through the apartment, phone on speaker, I did.

“You do love a good challenge,” she’d muttered on the other end of the line when I told her about my week following Elliot’s schedule.

I gave her the story in broad strokes. Leaving out the part where we’d kissed. That I’d let him do much more to me than anyone else ever had. It felt like a conversation we should have in person, because I knew her reaction would be priceless, and it would’ve been wasted over the phone.

And maybe, just a little bit, because I was scared. Embarrassed. Self-conscious about the whole thing.

Paula needed a moment to process what had already happened anyway. She cleared her throat, and I let myself sink back onto the couch just as she said, “First of all, I cannot believe you live with Elliot Ashwood, and I’m only finding out about it now. Like this.”

“You’re busy!” I cried.

“As are you, I’m sure. With him.” Her teasing undertone let me roll my eyes, but the corners of my lips tipped into a smile anyway.

“With work,” I corrected, which sobered her a little.