Page 28 of Ruled By Rivalry

“Well, it would certainly make things easier.”

I grimaced, head shaking, still looking around the room.

“Hey.” His shoulder bumped mine, and the tight frown on his face loosened. “I shouldn’t have made a decision like that by myself. I’m sorry. It just kind of happened, though.”

I wished he hadn’t said that. The apology sounded almost sincere, but I couldn’t take it seriously when stupid decisions made without consulting Maeve could be his job description. Like he’d been hired specifically to torment me.

“Just like you should’ve talked to me about the sustainability thing.”

Elliot nodded, and maybe alcohol made him more agreeable.

For the last time tonight, his eyes fell down my body with a sigh. “Fuck—what time is it? You were asleep, weren’t you?” He muttered some sort of justification: “I wouldn’t have come here this late, but I didn’t want to give him another second of my time. And because you were supposed to live with another intern anyway, he sent me here.”

I decided to let it go. For now. “Yeah, I was asleep.” As if on cue, a yawn rattled through my throat. “For at least two hours.”

“Of course you go to bed at ten.” He might’ve been rolling his eyes, but I didn’t check to confirm.

Instead, I got up, stretched, and muttered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everything about you is perfect, Maeve. Down to your goddamn bedtime.”

It didn’t sound like a compliment at all. “You don’t seem pleased about that.”

Elliot gnawed on his bottom lip, looked up at me from the couch, bags ringing his eyes. “Not in the slightest.”

The world around us continued spinning, but this exact moment felt like an eternity. Like I was supposed to notice the way his lashes batted against his cheeks, and that his eyes stayed closed for a second too long. He seemed comically large on the small couch; he’d barely fit if he tried to curl up on top of it to sleep, which he seemed to at least consider.

The thought must’ve hit us at the same time. After a second, he said, “A good roommate would’ve offered me a tour by now, though.”

My mouth quirked. “A perfect roommate might.”

And so I did.

From the elongated kitchen with its wooden floors, white cabinets, and Midtown views, over to the too-small bathroom with a shower I’d been lucky to still fit in, all the way to my bedroom, where he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Perfect, of course.” I showed him where I hung my coats, how I left my shoes by the door, and then led him to the room on the other end of the corridor: his.

But up until an hour ago, there’d been no roommate in my foreseeable future, and I’d used the spare space differently. “A fair word of warning—” But he barged through the door without waiting for an explanation.

And walked straight into my personal closet. Three outfits laid out on his bed, including jewelry, hair accessories, and underwear.

A tailored button-up and miniskirt combo. Dark pants and a vest. High-waisted flared jeans with a beige open-knit sweater. And, unfortunately, matching lace underwear on top of each.

Elliot took a single step inside before he came to an abrupt halt again. For several seconds, the only sound came from the corner store somewhere below us and the fighting couple on our floor. Jackie must’ve been winning—her boyfriend was being suspiciously quiet tonight.

“Let me just—” I squeezed past him to grab my stuff off the bed, tried to ignore that both of my suitcases stood in one corner, my accessories on top of the dresser, with my straightener, curling iron, and blow-dryer right beside them because the mirror in his room was bigger than the one in the bathroom.

Because I didn’t know it would ever be his room.

I couldn’t even be particularly mad because, essentially, this was my fault. If I hadn’t asked for nightlife suggestions, they never would’ve gone out, gotten caught, and Elliot wouldn’t have gotten in trouble with his grandfather, who wouldn’t have banished him into the intern accommodation I was currently occupying.

The only thing I could do was play it cool and hope he was drunk enough to forget the sight of my lingerie by morning. There was no need for him to know what I wore below my clothes. The thought alone brought more color to my already red cheeks and more tumult to my already fluttering stomach.

Embarrassing. Unprofessional. That’s what it was; that’s why I felt this way.

I scooped every single piece on his bed up into my arms, and it felt a little wrong, destroying my perfectly laid-out plans. When I turned back around with a Sorry already on my lips, he was blocking the door. Unintentionally, I think. He was just big, and this apartment was so very small in comparison to everywhere else we’d been.

The office was huge. The coffee shop was too public to be considered an intimate space. No need to mention the bar; that thing was the opposite.

This room, though, at one in the morning, was the epitome of everything one would imagine when hearing tiny room in the middle of the night with a handsome, tall man in the doorway. Small and intimate and—did his eyes just flick to my lips? Or just the clothes bunched up in my arms?