“Yes.” Pause. “She’s here.” Another beat. “No, not a thing. I kept her in the dark. Literally. But I’m double-parked, so you better come out here.”
A minute later, the passenger door opens, and I feel a pair of hands pulling me out gently. I don’t need to ask who it is. I know. The calluses of his fingers. The roughness of his big palms. It’s my future husband.
“Thanks, Bea, I’ll take good care of her,” Christian says.
“Bye, now,” Mom chirps, gunning her engine as she drives away.
“This better be good, Mr. Miller,” I warn as he ushers me somewhere, holding my hands. I trust him fully, but I don’t like not being in the know.
Christian chuckles but doesn’t answer. We make our way indoors out of the heat of the summer day through a revolving door. An avalanche of cool, air-conditioned air sweeps over my feet and hair. It gives me a sweet, achy feeling. Like I’ve felt it once before. My heels click over marble. My surroundings smell new. Flowery. Expensive. We’re in a building. Christian calls the elevator, and I wait beside him.
“How was your day at work?” he asks. He is making chitchat while I’m still blindfolded. Unbelievable.
“Fine,” I respond. “Yours?”
“Good.”
“Tell me, how many people are watching me right now blindfolded, being led by a handsome, tall man in a dashing suit?”
“About . . .” He counts under his breath. “Seventeen. And I’ll have you know I’m not wearing a suit but a tutu dress.”
“Dashing.”
“Sort of. I think it makes my knees look a little bloated.”
The elevator dings, and I think I recognize the sound but I can’t tell where from. We walk in. Christian holds my hand the entire time. I count the floors by the way the elevator pings each time we pass a level. We stop on the seventh floor. Christian walks out, ushering me with him, clasping my palm in both of his. Then he stops and drops my hand to enter a security number to open a door. He presses a hand against the small of my back, and we both walk in. Then he’s behind me, removing my blindfold.
“Ta-da.”
I blink my eyes open, adjusting to the sunlight after being blindfolded for so long, and immediately suck in a breath. No wonder I thought the noises and scents were familiar when I walked in.
I turn to face him. “No.”
“Yup,” he says, popping the p.
“Can we afford it?” I wince.
He leans forward, rubbing his nose against mine. “Absolutely. It’s not your old penthouse. That, we wouldn’t have been able to afford in a million years. But I wanted you to live in your childhood building. Somewhere close to Aaron. Where you can see him from your window anytime you please. I asked the building manager to call me as soon as there was a vacancy. And well . . . three weeks ago, there was.”
I stride along the empty space, the sound of my heels ricocheting against the walls. Everything is bare and clean and smells of opportunity and potential. Of memories we can create here. An apartment in my Park Avenue building. Somewhere we can call our own. I’m so overwhelmed with emotions, with happiness, that it takes me a few moments to notice it. A plastic bag on the kitchen counter. The only thing inside this place.
“Hey.” I walk over to it. “What is that?”
“Those are our bathing suits,” Christian says behind my back, and I hear him coming toward me. “Race you to the pool for a few laps?”
His chin touches the top of my head, and all is well in the world.
“I’m going to win,” I warn him, plucking out my swimsuit from the bag.
He engulfs me with his hands. “I’d like to see you try.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
BEFORE YOU GO
Thank you so much for reading Ruthless Rival. I’m excited to dive into the Cruel Castaways universe and introduce you to their world. As a thank-you for reading, I am offering a never-before-seen short story to my newsletter subscribers.
“Punk Love” is an angsty, funny short story, available exclusively to my subscribers.
Sign up here: http://eepurl.com/dgo6x5
All my love, L.J. Shen
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This series has been in the making for a while. I’ve been wanting to write Christian’s, Riggs’s, and Arsène’s stories for as long as I can remember, but it took a lot of people’s support to be able to give you this book.
First and foremost, a huge thank-you goes out to my agent, Kimberly Brower, at Brower Literary, for the help, support, and direction.