Page 50 of Ruled By Rivalry

Once I reached him on our floor, he was smiling again. With me, at me—not sure. He wasn’t stepping out of the way, either. Toe to toe, chest to chest, nose to nose. That’s how close we were again.

The lights went out, and the staircase fell into darkness. Bad idea, our guardian angels chanted in unison. “We have company,” he reminded.

“You have company.”

I felt the huff of his laugh against my skin. “Okay,” he said. “I have company.”

“Well.” I snickered—or tried to. “At least you’ve got someone waiting in your bed.”

“Maeve.” The way he said it was everything—frustration, disbelief, amusement, and a warning all in one. “If I wanted her, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

I said nothing.

“I wouldn’t have stood out there half an hour, waiting for you.”

“You said it was twenty minutes.” Like that was the point.

“I wouldn’t still be playing with the possibility of kissing you. After you’ve told me not to twice already.”

My breath hitched again, and it brought a satisfied smile to his lips. Don’t say that, I wanted to argue. Don’t bring me closer to that point of no return with every word coming out of your mouth.

But Elliot had other plans—apparently had rehearsed his next line to push me one last time as he turned to open our door. His back to me, he said, “And I wouldn’t take you to that fundraiser tomorrow night. I’d take her.”

He was trying to master that pull-push-turn combination to unlock our apartment, so he couldn’t see the way my head shook vigorously. “That’s not fair.” It was the only thing I still saw clearly. “The only reason you’re taking me to that is to show me how hard your life is.” Any other words out of my mouth would’ve probably been Do it. That’s how close I was.

Elliot smiled across his shoulder, let his eyes linger one last time before he managed to get the door open. “Sure,” he said. “That’s why.”

Chapter 21

The next morning, on the way to work, Elliot kept glancing in my direction. Probably to make sure I wasn’t getting lost in the bustle of New York City’s morning crowd, but I couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling in my stomach regardless. I was watching him too; noticed every twitch of his lip, raise of his brows, and suppressed chuckle.

At the coffee shop around the corner from the office, I didn’t even have a chance to order my usual because Elliot had done it for me. His credit cards were still frozen, and Barista Robbie looked at his cash like he was seeing real money for the first time.

When Elliot handed me my cup and our fingers accidentally brushed, I couldn’t help the way my skin tingled, either. He rushed to add a “Sorry” at the accidental touch, but I waved him off like he shouldn’t be.

He should.

There were things happening that I had no control over. My body was having reactions it never had before, and he was the reason for them. He should be sorry, and he should make sure it never happened again.

This needed to stop. Now. “I think I’ll take the stairs today,” I said as soon as we entered the lobby. “Didn’t have a chance to go running this morning, so that’s at least some cardio.”

Elliot huffed from behind me, caught up, and . . . steered toward the stairs too. “You know you don’t need to prove you’re better than us mortal folk with everything that you do, right?”

Fuck. The reason I didn’t want to take the elevator was to get away from him. Not to spend more time with him walking up to our respective offices. “You’re right,” I quipped. Screeched to a halt by the elevator just in time. “Why don’t you take the stairs, I’ll—” I pressed the button. Three times. “Ride up.”

But now that I’d stopped, doors beside me finally open, so did Elliot. He blinked at me, and I couldn’t even blame him for his confusion. I was acting like I’d lost my mind somewhere between last night and this morning. In a way, I had. At least the part crucial for critical thinking.

“Okay . . .” Elliot trailed off, looked around like I’d set up a hidden camera somewhere. How long does it take Elliot to realize something is seriously wrong with Maeve Peterson?

Twenty minutes, apparently.

“Why would I take the stairs? That was your idea.” He ushered me into the elevator, and I had no other choice but to comply because he added, “Get in there, Lucky. You’re being weird.”

And weird was the last thing I wanted to be. Cool, calm, and collected, that was my MO. Professional. So, after an unsuccessful attempt to get away from Elliot, the doors of the elevator slid closed behind us. Leaving us once again alone in a small, confined space.

Why does this keep happening?

With a single jolt, we started moving. In thirty seconds, I’d be free. Of my eyes unwillingly finding him on the other side of the shoebox-sized elevator. Of the way my heart rate picked up just slightly when he looked my way, too. Of everything in me chanting, Just once.