Survival of the Richest (The Trust Fund Duet 1)

We’re standing only an inch apart. His eyes might as well be a fathomless night sky, deep in the city without a single star. With nothing to guide me. We stood like this in front of Medusa, and he kissed me. She watched us without judgment or fear, the same way the city watches us now.

His head lowers. There’s not time to breathe or think.

When his lips touch mine, there are a thousand stars lit up. I’m the one burning inside the open space of him. I’m the one made hot and raging. He dips his tongue against my lower lip, testing me, tasting me, soothing the wild heat inside with a smooth, dark movement.

A sound comes from the door.

It takes me a while to come back into my body from the places I’ve been. To feel the mechanics of my bones and joints and muscles. To make myself step back. When I do, I can see the door which hangs open behind Christopher.

Sutton stands in the doorway, his blue eyes stark and cold. A lake that’s frozen over. There’s no way to explain what’s happened here, not when I don’t understand it myself. No excuses for the fact that Christopher’s hand is clenched in my hair. He releases me slowly, finger by fing

er. Prying himself away. That’s how it feels. He takes one step back. Another.

I watch as he becomes the man form after the will reading. I watch as he becomes a stranger. An enemy. “You were just leaving.”

There are razors in my chest. They turn against me, leaving only ribbons of wanting, the remains of a pointless dream. “Is that why you were kissing me? Because the only way you can touch me is if you know it means goodbye?”

The words hit their mark, an arrow in the heart of a stone. He turns cold. “Does it matter? You have what you wanted.”

Hurt crowds my throat. I cover it up with suspicion. “Sutton?”

“The trust fund. It’s your money. Use it however you want. Buy a thousand goddamned butterflies.”

He leaves me with that terrible victory, having won control of the fortune that should have been mine, having lost the man who never belonged to me. The man I’ve always wanted more than he wants me. Sutton turns sharply to give Christopher his exit, careful not to touch him. No punches thrown. That should be a relief to me. It feels like I took the hit to my stomach instead.

I half expect Sutton to storm out of the apartment, but he stands in front of me. Stands with me in the rubble of trust around us, figurative dust floating in the air, the way we were at the library. He’s the past, he said then. Christopher’s taste is still on my tongue.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sutton says, his gaze past my shoulder, to the wall of windows beyond.

Words crowd my throat, words of apology, but loss steals my voice. I should have learned this by now, that life couldn’t be trusted.

That anything good was only temporary—especially men.

I could say that I didn’t initiate this, that I didn’t come here for this. That it was Christopher who kissed me. But I didn’t stop him. And in my secret heart, I know the truth—I didn’t want to stop him. Sometimes a woman has to face a wrecking ball coming toward her with steady eyes. She knows what’s coming. That’s what I told Christopher. The library might recover. Cleopatra won’t.

“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out raw. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“No? After what we did in your hotel room I don’t think I had any claims of monogamy. You can kiss whoever you want.”

Those same words might come from a man with no desire for commitment. Instead they’re filled with a dark amusement. It makes me remember the glint in his eyes when he watched Christopher take my virginity. The way his Southern charm had slipped for a moment, revealing a cunning underneath. “Whoever I want, as long as you’re in the room, pulling the strings. Is that how you like it?”

There’s heat in those blue eyes. Betrayal and hurt, but enough heat to blaze like summer. “That’s how you liked it, too. I remember how hard you came, honey. Your beautiful thighs trembling. Wet enough to soak the sheets.”

My body responds with suddenness, warmth spreading through my body, a wildfire in a dry forest. This isn’t the time be to be aroused. Sutton must know that. He watches me with that same cunning beneath the surface. It makes me want to toss a pebble into it, to make him ripple. “Why did you come here? Are you following me?”

“It was only a matter of time before you came to see Christopher.”

“That means yes.”

“Do you want me to apologize?” He drawls the word, making it sound like a mockery. Except he should apologize for following me. And like he said, we hadn’t made any promises of monogamy, no matter how shameful I felt to be caught kissing someone else.

Tanglewood is a blade. I’m torn in two pieces, one that loves Christopher. That’s always loved Christopher in all his terrible ambition. And one half that loves Sutton, the man of few words and dangerous trust, the man staring at me like I’m the enemy. “I don’t think you’re that concerned with what I want. This is some sort of game for you, and you’ve been playing since I first met you in the boardroom.”

“You’re a beautiful woman. A man would be crazy not to want you.”

“Except that’s not why you wanted me. It was a competition with Christopher.” The certainty makes my stomach turn inside out. “That’s why you pursued me from the beginning, why you invited me to the gala, why you made me the offer about the historical society.”

Blue eyes glitter. Why have I never seen how much they look like a hard gem? A stone made beautiful and sharp. “You want to question my motives, honey? You’re the one who came storming into the office like a woman on a crusade. Looking for Christopher.”