Page 81 of Ruled By Rivalry

“But I remember you saying something to me once.”

“Probably more than just once, honey.”

She sighed a laugh. “You said, and I think I can quote, ‘We don’t sacrifice our dreams for men.’”

“They’re never worth it,” I agreed. “Why—”

“God, I can’t believe I’m about to give you guy advice. This is so exciting! It just sounds like he’s . . . I don’t know. Wrapping you around his finger. Which, by the way, I didn’t know anyone could do.”

“Paula . . .”

“Sorry! I’m just saying. I don’t know how competitive things are at work, but it just sounds like, if there is competition, he’s trying to get the upper hand.”

Competitive felt like an understatement.

“You think,” I began, wrapping my head around her accusation, and the fact that my first instinct was to defend Elliot. “He’s buttering me up so I forget about work?”

“He’s probably buttering you up because you’re cute.” I knew her head was shaking just by the way she’d said it. “Sexy. Smoking hot.” I almost smiled. “And making you forget about your priorities is just an added bonus.” I said nothing, which she took as a sign to continue. “I mean, I don’t know the guy! I’ve never met him.”

I interpreted her tone correctly and snickered. “Yes, Paula. You may come over while he’s here.”

On the other end, she was probably fist pumping. “Anyway, maybe he really is just in love with you and he’s got no ulterior motive.”

“He’s not in love with me.”

“Ulterior motive it is, then.”

I groaned, and my back hit the couch cushions again. “I don’t know what’s worse, to be honest.”

“Hmmm.” Paula pretended to think. “Having a billionaire with limitless resources scheming against you. Or having him be completely and utterly obsessed with you. Tough choice.”

“Isn’t there an in-between option? These all sound quite . . . extreme.”

“Nope.” To Paula’s credit, if she knew how far I’d let things go already, she’d probably take this more seriously. But admitting I’d let him touch me now just seemed . . . silly. Like I should’ve noticed the dynamic she pointed out all by myself.

And I had. A week ago, I still believed I was just being nice to him for the same reason: to manipulate him into trusting me so I could jeopardize his future with any information he gave me.

Not Paula’s laugh or the way she kept teasing me about those pictures—the way I was looking at him and the way he was looking at me—snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts, though. It was the sound of the door rattling, and whose presence it announced.

“Listen, let me know when you’re free next week. You can come over and watch the guy like he’s a zoo animal, if that’s what you really want. I gotta go now!”

Paula snorted. “You know me so well,” she said. “I’ll text you. Bye!” And hung up, in sync with Elliot’s head popping through the doorway. His eyes immediately darted to my phone, screen up, on the armrest of the couch. The pictures of us smiling back at him brightly.

“Oh,” he said. Took another step into the room. “About that . . .”

Paula’s words still played on a loop in my mind. Maybe that’s why I sounded so snippy when I said, “You could’ve warned me.”

“Have you read anything?”

“Read?!”

I reached for my phone, not sure what I was looking for. Instead of my own name, I googled his.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no.” He sat at the other end of the couch, his hands driving across his face. His hair looked messier than usual. “I tried to take care of it. I’m still taking care of it.”

“Of the pictures?” I didn’t think they looked that bad.

“Of what they’re writing about them.”