A man appeared at the door. Tall and beautiful but a touch too wiry for Harper’s usual tastes, and it made far more sensewhen he took Ruchi’s hand and said: “Adrian Navarro, Gallant PR. Thank you for returning my call.”
“Ruchi Sharma. Ruchi Sharma PR. And I’ll thank you to lose my number.”
“Sure, I’ll always be able to dig it up again if I need it. Right this way then.”
But I was already moving. Harper clearly wanted a dramatic moment—but the fact she’d planned this meeting here and not at some restaurant on the strip suggested this little show was for my eyes only.
Her home was sleek and cold. The only warmth in the walls—enormous canvases marked with abstract crimson swirls.
Harper was at the kitchen island, pouring liquor into a cocktail shaker. I had to force myself forward as I saw her, couldn’t freeze like I had looking at her face in the magazine. She followed me to this city. She leaned on my name.
She should be on her knees.
Instead she stood against her counter in tight leather trousers and a sheer vest, tossing her hair over her shoulder so she could bring the cocktail up to shake.
“It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Which is why this is an espresso martini,” she said, pouring the liquid into the glass. “Coffee is a morning drink. Oh come on, Heywood, don’t tell me you skip mimosas at brunch.”
“You wanted to talk?” I pushed.
She scoffed. “You didn’t come all this way becauseIwanted to talk. You wanted to see me.”
“I wanted to discuss whatever it is we’re doing here,” I corrected, accepting the drink from her despite my previous protestations.
She didn’t step back once she’d handed the drink over, just stood awfully close to me as she cocked her head to the side, that infuriating smirk still locked on her face. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Well, aside from the obvious,” her fingers fluttered to my hair, and for some stupid reason, I let her twirl a lock about her finger before it fell, limp and discarded back against my chest. “I had a poster of you on my wall, you know? Everyone else at CADS could hardly believe it was you, blood-soaked and murderous. But I knew those were always the sort of performances you loved best.”
“Is there a point to this, Harper?” I growled the words out, noting that she was right, but she was also wrong. I had changed, but being beside her undid all that in quick succession, like my whole life here was artifice and the rot she inspired was the truth festering beneath.
I took a sip of my martini, sweeter than I’d expected, and winced with distaste. I liked my drinks bitter, sour—but this was Harper, all manufactured saccharinity. Still, I was distinctly aware that the taste lingering on my tongue also rested upon hers.
“I called and you answered; that’s the point.” She finally took a step away, a hint of coconut tangible as her hair whipped round. She’d changed her shampoo—of course she had. It had been years, a different country—hell, a differentcontinent. So why did that pull me up short? Fuck, why did I even remember?
Her eyes rounded in some grotesque attempt at vulnerability. “I was worried you’d forgotten me.”
“Stop it,” I snapped. “This isn’t about me.”
“No, of course it’s not,” she raised her martini in a toast. “It’s about me. You’re good for my brand. You get me attention, and attention is how you make it in this city. We both know whyItold that story. But why did you embrace it?”
“It helps me too,” I said, reminding myself that I was a professional and Harper—this rivalry—was a choice I’d made. “That’s why I’m here. This rivalry could be mutually beneficial, so let’s lay out the parameters.”
“Way to suck out the joy of it all. Thank you, but no.”
“No? You started this.”
“Youstarted this. A long time ago. And then you abandoned me.” She pouted over the rim of her glass, and I had the sudden urge to wipe it from her face. If she was going to be a brat, I wanted to treat her like one.
But I clung to the aloof disdain I knew would hurt her most. “This is very needy, Harper. You couldn’t cope at CADS without me?”
“Yes. See, imagine coming back to school in September and you simply not being there … You won after screwing me over, repeatedly, and I didn’t even have the chance for a rematch? It was so boring without trying to outpace you or take roles from you.”
“Nothing was stopping you from working like I did.”
“Working? Darling, you’re a dropout with pert tits and a good jumpsuit. That’s what’s giving you your fifteen minutes of fame. But I have three years of CADS under my belt, and you don’t have the skill to last long here.”
I knew this was how Harper operated—and all at once I was nineteen again.“You’re so desperate to succeed you’ll do anything for it, wouldn’t you? Admit it, you’re a vindictive, entitled, conniving little bitch.”
This is what she did: continuous jabs until she found the one that hurt.
