Survival of the Richest (The Trust Fund Duet 1)

“What are you doing here?” I demand, because we’re in front of my hotel room. And what the hell does Christopher think, showing up here at night? Embarrassment threatens to strangle me, but I remind myself firmly that I’m a grown woman. I have every right to do what I want… even though I possibly should have been inside the hotel room.

It’s a question of a few feet, so I hold my chin up.

“I came to talk to you,” Christopher says in a low voice.

There’s a small move, barely discernible, the way that Sutton moves to block me. As if protecting me from Christopher. “You can talk tomorrow. At the office.”

“This is personal,” Christopher says, his eyes locked on mine.

He’s waiting for me to send Sutton away, except I’m not sure that’s what I should do.

If that kiss had been only for revenge, only to crack Christopher’s cool veneer, then it already succeeded. But Sutton made it more than that. He made it about me and him, when I didn’t think it was possible for me to desire another man.

“There’s nothing personal between us. You made sure of that. There’s only money between us.”

For all his rough background, Sutton wouldn’t do anything as uncouth as gloat. He doesn’t say a word or even move a muscle. He’s a monolith, but a sense of victory rises around him—unmistakable. I may as well have written his name on my body with permanent marker; that’s the way these men are taking my declaration.

Is that how I mean it? I don’t belong to Sutton, but God, I was never Christopher’s. Even in my teenage fantasies I should have known better than to hope for that.

“She’s my sister,” Christopher says.

A harsh laugh. “That would be more convincing if I didn’t think you were going to beat off to the image of her lea

ning against the wall, looking fucked out and hot as all hell.”

“Jesus,” Christopher says, baring his teeth to Sutton in a sign of frustration. “How dare you make this a competition? How dare you use her to get to me?”

The words find their mark inside my heart, sharp and poisoned. I don’t want to be a ball that men throw around for sport. A toy to be put aside when they get bored of me.

Where there had been victory, now there is only menace. How does Sutton manage to exude feelings without moving a muscle? His energy shimmers around him, thick in the air. And now he’s pissed. “How dare you imply that’s the only reason a man would want her?”

All the heat that had been burning through my body leaks into the walls and warms the floors. None of it’s left inside my body. I’m cold. “Is this a game to you?”

I don’t even know who I’m asking. Probably Sutton. I already know what Christopher wants from me, and it’s to save me from myself. Not exactly a flattering sentiment, but a familiar one.

Sutton turns to me, his jaw hard. “He’s going to tell you I’m a bastard.” He cups my face, running his thumb along my lower lip. The same thumb that he used to touch my arousal on his lip. His head bends low so only I can hear what he says. “And he’s right about that. Because a better man would leave you to him. I want you for myself.” His mouth claims mine in a kiss that my body responds to even while my mind is confused. He explores me with sensual leisure, standing between Christopher and myself. There’s no doubt what my body wants when I look up at him with my lips parted and my eyelids heavy.

That’s how Sutton leaves me, leaning against the wall, my limbs weak and my mind hazy from wanting him—from wanting what he was going to do before Christopher interrupted us. I could lay you down on the bed and tie you there, so you couldn’t get off. You’d keep trying all night, this gorgeous body fucking the air, desperate for relief. I could watch you all night. It’s strange that he can make even torture a thing that I long for—that fact seems important. Momentous. Something about man and woman and the ways we break, but I can’t think about anything but the throb between my legs. And the hard look in Christopher’s eyes.

My purse must have fallen to the floor at some point. The cards are scattered across the worn carpet. And there is the hotel key card, the one I couldn’t find before.

Christopher is the one who bends to pick it up, gathering the rest of the contents in a broad sweep of his strong hands. He doesn’t bother handing the purse back to me, which is just as well since I don’t think I could hold anything. Instead he uses the key card to open the door, and holds it open for me.

How strange, that it should feel like a betrayal for me to be with another man when Christopher has rejected me for so long. And strange that he should still be bent on being the white knight.

My mind is too muddled to solve this, so I let him usher me inside. Let him pour me a drink of water from the minibar. Let him sit me down in a chair while he stands in front of me like some kind of strict professor, his eyes intense and a muscle in his jaw ticking.

I know I should be thinking about the trust fund and hospital bills, but all I can hear is Sutton’s voice saying, You’d fuck yourself against the bedpost all night long, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Wouldn’t be enough.

I’m used to the way Christopher distracts me, the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about him even though I shouldn’t. I’m less used to the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about Sutton. What are these men doing to me? Despite all their differences, they fit together as business partners. Both of them are ruthless and so complex they’re going to drive me insane.

“I know you hate me,” Christopher says, and I don’t bother to correct him. I’m not sure I could find the words. I hate you so much you consume me. And now there’s Sutton, doing the same thing. What will be left of me? “And I deserve that.”

“So you’re going to let me pay the hospital?”

He gives me a severe look. “I’m being completely honest when I say that Sutton isn’t good for you. Women love him and he loves them back… for about a week. Maybe two.”