Home > Books > Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(91)

Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(91)

Author:L.J. Shen

“I’m not done with you,” I confessed. “I wish I was, but I’m not.”

“You go about things like a fourteen-year-old.”

Because that’s the age I was when you discarded me.

“In that case, how about we start over tonight? The trial will be over in a few short weeks. If we keep things under wraps, it could work. We can enjoy each other in the meantime, then go our separate ways.”

Arya considered this. I kept my smile casual. She had all the power. She could say no, turn her back on me, and go her merry way. But I would never stop desiring her. I’d taken the first, the second, and the third step. I kept seeking her out.

“Fine,” she said, finally. This was my cue to take out my final note. I passed it over to her.

“Another one?” Her eyebrows jumped to her hairline, but she still took it.

“Last one,” I said, watching her face as she unfolded it.

Step 3: Have sex with me at a library.

This time when she looked back at me, there was no amusement in her eyes. “Are you insane?”

“It’s a possibility,” I admitted.

“I mean, let’s start with the obvious—the library is currently closed.”

Tucking my hand into my peacoat’s pocket, I took out a key to one of the side doors. “Problem solved. What else?”

Arya’s eyes flared. “How?”

“I know someone who knows someone who may or may not work here.”

And I paid him a lot of money to make this happen, I refrained from adding.

“Well, the next reason why it’s insane is because it’s illegal.”

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

“Yup. It’s going to sound like a double-spread scandal in a tabloid.” She flashed me a don’t-be-cute glare. “We might get caught.”

“We won’t.” I stood up. “Trust me. I have a two-hundred-million-dollar case and a partnership on the line. I’m not going to throw it all away for a fuck, no matter how fun and dirty.”

But now that I’d said it out loud, the weight of the stupidity of this act pressed against my sternum. That made Arya perk up instantly. She shot up to her feet too. Perhaps the sheer possibility of my screwing up my career cheered her up.

“Sounds like a challenge to me.”

Yeah. No perhaps about it. Definitely.

We walked around the building until I found the door I was looking for, turned the key in its hole, and pushed it open. It was pitch black inside. The warmth of the library paired with the scent of old pages, worn leather, and oak slammed into both of us. Arya’s hand found mine. I squeezed her hard and led her into the study room.

“You know, I’ve lived in this city my whole life, and I’ve never visited the rare book division,” I heard Arya say behind my back. I couldn’t show it to her today, since we needed a key for that, too, but it was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I’d make it happen. That I’d take her there. Only I couldn’t take her there. Being seen with her in public in broad daylight would be disastrous. The kiss of death to our careers—not to mention her nearly nonexistent relationship with her family. We could only exist in the dark, two thieves of pleasure.

The study room was never ending. All the table lamps were turned off. In the dark, it looked almost like a deserted factory. Of ideas and dreams and potential. I tugged at Arya’s hand to come inside, feeling fourteen again.

“Please don’t tell me you hid my book somewhere in here.” She glanced around the room, which was framed with shelves laden with books.

I let out a metallic laugh. “I’m not that sadistic.”

“Debatable.” She walked over to one of the shelves, checking out the books. I watched her. I always watched her. Her hair—the only untamed thing about her appearance—curled around her face like an angel’s. I wondered if she’d taste as sweet, as sinful, as lovely, if I had her openly. If I could parade her around. Take her to company events. If her belly swelled with my offspring inside it. I wondered if my obsession with her stemmed from pure vengeance or something more. A sense of entitlement, of ownership, after everything she’d put me through.

“Christian?” she asked, and I realized that in my stupor, I hadn’t noticed she was talking to me. I shook my head slightly. It always disoriented me when she called me that.

“Yes?”

“Did you listen to anything I said?” She smiled, hugging a book to her chest as she advanced toward me, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

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