Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways 1)

She shook her head, stepping toward the entrance door. She was about to leave. I couldn’t let her. Not because she could get me disbarred, or because my partnership was on the line. But because I was not ready to say goodbye. Not to her. Not at fourteen, and not at thirty-two.

“Arya, wait.”

She turned around again to face me. “You know, Nicky, the first thing I did when I found out who you were was tell Jillian. It was stronger than me. My vindictiveness took over me. I needed to feel . . . reckless.” She drew in her breath. “But I couldn’t, for the life of me, tell my parents about you. Aim to where it would hurt you the most. I couldn’t tell them the truth. Isn’t that sad? That I hate my father almost as much as I hate you? And love you both too. I guess my love will always be dipped in hate, making every important relationship in my life bittersweet. But I want you to know I’m well aware of the control I have over you, and don’t think for one second I won’t use it. If you get anywhere near me, for any reason whatsoever, I am going to make sure Judge Lopez and the partners at your firm know about your connection with the Roth family. As well as the NY State Bar Association. So make sure you stay the hell away from me, because all it’d take is one call, one text, one unwarranted visit, for me to ruin your life. And believe me, Christian, I will ruin your life without so much as a blink.”

She wasn’t going to say anything.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or scream.

I didn’t think the chances of Arya keeping this a secret were high. I supposed telling on me just seemed like the natural thing to do. Which was why I was more preoccupied with her forgiving me than her revealing my secret. Any other man would have taken what she’d given him and left. And maybe I had been that man two months ago. But I wasn’t him today, nor would I be any day after.

“So you’re saying the next time I contact you, you’ll have me disbarred?” I drawled.

“At the very least.”

“Very well. Thank you, Ari.”

“Burn in hell, Nicky.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHRISTIAN

Present

I didn’t want to fly out to Florida in the middle of the week. It had nothing to do with the mounting pile of work I had waiting for me at the office or the two puzzled partners who couldn’t understand why my first move had been to fire one of their most promising associates. I knew Claire wouldn’t try and pull the sexual harassment card against me, mainly because we were both ultracautious, calculated people, and she knew I’d saved all the messages she had sent me in the past in which she’d been begging me to bed her. Dragging me or the firm through court would detonate the one thing Claire valued above all else—her pride.

Plus, I had notified HR about it when we’d first started.

I didn’t like the idea of leaving New York when things between Arya and myself were unsettled. But as Arsène and Riggs had pointed out when I’d told them about my conversation with Arya, this sort of shit was beyond their pay grade, and I needed a woman’s touch to figure out where I was headed from here.

Alice Gudinski lived in a sprawling Palm Beach condo. Arsène, Riggs, and I visited her occasionally, especially during the holidays, but the past couple of years had been hectic work-wise, so I’d dropped the ball.

I’d made us a reservation for a seafood restaurant with an ocean view.

Of course, I was also ten minutes late, coming straight from the airport.

Alice waited for me on the veranda, which overlooked the sunset. She wore a kimono and was cradling a Bloody Mary the size of a champagne bucket.

“Ah, my favorite toy boy without benefits.” She kissed both my cheeks, then my nose and my ear. Alice looked radiant and not a day over forty. To an outsider, it wasn’t far fetched that we were a couple. A dashing toy boy whose millionaire girlfriend had bought him a little Realtor office on the beach. Only I knew she’d never take a lover after losing Henry. “You look decadent.”

“You look lovely, as always.” I dropped a kiss to the crown of her head before helping her to her seat and lounging opposite to her. A waitress dashed to us with a glass of sherry on cue, no doubt having gotten prior instructions from Bossy Alice.

“Shame Arsène and Riggs couldn’t make it.” She sipped her Bloody Mary, the orange-and-pink sunset burning the sky her backdrop.

“Riggs is currently in England, taking pictures for an article about beached whales, and Arsène quit civilization sometime after his college graduation. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”