“Beautiful.” He looked up. For a second there, I allowed myself to fantasize that we were a real couple. Everything was normal, familiar, soaked with potential. But then I remembered. Remembered what he’d done today before coming here. Remembered this was only a charade. A distraction. A means to satisfy a very feral need. I slapped my swim cap over my head.
“Miller.” I dived headfirst into the lane next to his. I resurfaced moments later, swimming to the edge of the pool, to him. “How’s the trial moving?”
“Rapidly.” He slid into the pool effortlessly. The water was warm, perfect, the scent of chlorine and bleach heavy around us. “We’ll be making our closing statements sometime next week. You’re not planning to come, are you?”
I shook my head. A part of me pretended my dad had died. In a way, he had. Because the version of him I loved so much was gone, or maybe had never been there.
Christian dipped his head into the water and emerged with waterdrops clinging to his thick eyelashes. “Good.”
“Are we going to compete or what?” I asked. We did a front crawl. Fifty meters. He always won. But I always tried.
Usually, that was when Christian gave me an amused look. But not today. Today, he stared at me with something that resembled guilt. But since the bastard had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t remorseful about nailing my dad’s coffin to the ground, maybe it was just in my head.
“You want to compete again?” he asked. “When are you going to stop?”
“When I win.”
“You may never win.”
“Then I may never stop.”
“I pity the man who marries you.”
“I applaud the many women after me who’ll dump you.”
We ready-steady-goed. I gave it my all, fighting harder, swimming faster, than I ever had before. When I completed the lap and hit the edge of the pool, I looked back and saw that Christian was still trailing a few feet behind me.
For the first time, he’d let me win. On purpose. I didn’t like that.
Don’t let him pity you.
But how could he not, when he knew what was coming for me? For my family?
Suddenly, I felt very foolish. Foolish for sleeping with this man, who had gone after my father, even if he did deserve it. Foolish for giving in after I had bet Christian I wouldn’t be coaxed into his bed.
Foolish because he was still a mystery, carefully wrapped in a cunning smile and a dashing suit.
When he hit the wall, he shook water from his hair. His grin dropped as soon as he saw what must have been a scowl on my face.
“What?” he asked.
“You let me win.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” We sounded like kids.
“And what if I did?” he scoffed.
“Then stop. Remember I’m your equal.”
“That means I can’t be good to you?”
“Good, yes.” I pulled out of the pool, leaving him behind. “Deceitful? Never.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHRISTIAN
Present
The days felt shorter after that evening at the pool. Much shorter than their twenty-four hours. The morning after I let Arya win, Judge Lopez summoned me and Conrad’s attorneys to discuss the close of evidence. In my estimation, that put us at about a week till this whole thing wrapped up. The jury, I was positive, was going to take no longer than a couple of days to come up with the verdict.
That night, Arya couldn’t see me. She had dinner plans with a client, and at any rate, she explained, Jillian didn’t know the full scope of our relationship. Or lack of. It shouldn’t have bothered me. That Arya was keeping this from Jillian. I mean—wasn’t that the whole goddamn point?
But it did niggle at me. The end was nearing. And nailing Conrad didn’t feel as important as being able to enjoy his daughter.
The following evening, Arya couldn’t see me. Again. This time due to Jillian feeling unwell.
“I think I’m going to make her chicken-noodle soup and watch Friends reruns with her,” Arya sighed to me on the phone. I smiled and took it. What else could I do? I had no right to demand her time, her resources, her attention. We’d agreed it would be casual, and casual meant low to nonexistent expectations.
On the third day—four days before the end of the trial—Arya texted that her parents wanted to see her, and she didn’t know how long they would meet for, so it was best not to make any plans together. At this point, I was sure she was avoiding me. I left court during a brief break, hailed a taxi to my apartment, banged open the loose parquet under my bed, and took out her book. I took a picture of it in my hand and sent it to her.
Christian: Enough is enough, Arya. See me tonight and no one gets hurt.
Arya: So you are not above extortion.