Page 85 of The Ruthless Rivalry

I kissed her again.

No softness, no hesitation—just pure, raw need.

The kiss was rough, almost violent, teeth clashing, lips biting. I kissed her like I hated her and wanted her all at once, because I did. I wanted to lose myself in her, to feel her fight me back. And she did. Her hands shot up, grabbing my shoulders, nails digging in as she matched my intensity.

My hand snaked tighter around her, gripping her long, damp, blonde locks—the ones I’d imagined touching a thousand times before, as she kneeled before me. I shoved her deeper into thefountain—rough, but she didn’t seem to mind. No, if anything, the troublemaker kissed me back harder in response.

This time, I was the one to pull away. And judging by the dilated, pitch-black eyes staring up at me, I had pulled back too soon.

She was panting, and a slow, cocky grin spread across my face, knowing full well I had done that to her, had affected her so thoroughly. I traced my thumb across her lips, and she let me.

I let out a short laugh, a dark, amused gleam in my eyes. I turn on my heel, stepping out of the fountain without a glance back.

I had somewhere else to be, anyway, and I was already running late. But if they knew what was good for them, they’d still be waiting. Time was something others gave to me, not the other way around.

“You’re late.”

I don’t bother responding. If they wanted one, they should’ve pointing out more than just the obvious.

“Do you think I enjoy wasting my time waiting around at this hour for students? Especially one who blackmails me into doing their business for them?” Atlas says, waving a stack of papers in front of me.

Too bad I didn’t care.

“Did you find what I asked for?” I say, letting the papers dangle between us.

His eyes lower briefly. “Why are you soaked from the knees down?”

I don’t respond. That’s not my question, and it’s none of his business. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the state of my clothes right now. After a long pause, he scoffs, finally dragging himself out of whatever deep thoughts he was mired in.

“I got as much as I could,” he mutters, waving the papers between us again.

I narrow my eyes, feeling my patience snap. “I didn’t ask for ‘as much as I could.’” My voice is clipped, the words slashing out like they’re meant to cut. “I asked for answers to my questions.”

He stumbles over his words, trying to justify his incompetence. “Well, this is all I have right now. Do you know how hard it is to dig up this information? How much time and resources I’m devoting to helping you?”

I glance at him, uninterested, as if his words mean nothing. Cam had done his homework after I asked if he could find anything on Prescott after she first arrived. And after some basic digging, there were odd crossovers in hers and Atlas’s histories—things he probably hoped would never resurface. In his early days, Atlas had made some questionable choices, environmentally speaking. A few funded research trips sponsored by companies with dirty reputations. A silent partnership with a private waste disposal group that had been caught dumping illegally.

It wasn’t illegal on his end—technically—but it would be enough to ruin the image he’s built now as the university’s eco-saint. The kind of stain that doesn’t come out once it hits the academic circles. To someone else, it might’ve been minor. But to a tenured professor preaching sustainability? It was everything. And that made him a prime target for anyone with leverage.

I don’t even bother glancing at the papers as they dangle from his hand. “This isn’t what I asked for.”

Atlas’s grip tightens on the papers, and I can feel the tension shift. He’s rarely frustrated, but it’s starting to show now. “Do you want what I have or not?” he growls, his patience finally cracking.

I meet his gaze, my expression cold and unreadable. “I asked for answers. This?” I gesture dismissively toward the loose stack of paper in his hand. “This is not what I asked for, and I don’t do half-assed.”

His jaw tightens, eyes flashing with a frustration I’m enjoying far too much. The calm, collected Atlas everyone’s used to is slipping, and I can’t help but revel in it.

“I’ll send word when to meet up again. You’d better have the answers I want by then,” I say, voice smooth, almost patronizing.

Atlas’s mouth falls open for a second, and I can practically hear the gears grinding in his head. “You aren’t even going to give me a deadline? How will I know when to produce it by?”

I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds likeyourproblem.”

“Get fucked, Bishop,” Atlas snaps, his voice echoing as I start to walk away, his frustration thick in the air.

I don’t even break stride, my steps steady and sure as I leave him fuming behind me. Just before I turn the corner, I murmur under my breath, low but sure. “Oh, I intend to.”

Chapter 19

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