Page 14 of Mister Rival

TRISTAN

From the moment the champagne pops and we place our dinner order, with Ali still refusing to be caught dead with me at the reunion, I think we’ve turned a corner.

It’s then I slide the envelope in her direction with a little push of my hand, holding up my glass of champagne in the other. “Let’s celebrate.”

Slightly bewildered by the gesture, she takes it from me and I twitch a smile as I watch her hold onto it with a firm grip, like I’m going to wrench it from her grasp any moment.

Does she really think I’d do that?

“I need to make sure,” she says, tugging at the envelope opening.

I would expect no less from this fiery redhead, and I amusedly watch her reach for her purse, and fuck me if she doesn’t pull out a pair of reading glasses. They’re large gunmetal frames which reflect perfectly off her emerald irises.

I watch as she scans through the documents, her pert lips pressing together as she turns the page. Her face is a full mask of concentration. A few moments later, she flicks her gaze to me like she’s expecting a punchline, but realistically we both know there isn’t one. It’s done. Well played, Ali.

I’m still holding my glass out in anticipation. “What do you say?” I need to take a long draw of the liquid to settle myself, so I hope she reciprocates my gesture of cheers. Alison Archer in those specs is doing things to me that they shouldn’t be. I shift a little in my seat, glad for the tablecloth covering my lap so she can’t see my growing erection. The last thing she needs to be aware of is something stirring in my pants.

She blinks a couple of times, seemingly satisfied, and puts the papers securely away, tucking them into the top of her oversized purse. “Well,” she says with a nod, clearly pleased but trying her best not to show it. “Was that so hard, Lucas?”

I don’t think she’d appreciate it if I elaborate on what’s hard right now, so I raise a suggestive eyebrow instead.

Her next move surprises me as she lifts her glass, and instead of throwing the contents all over me — which I probably deserve more than her company right now — she clinks it to mine in the center of the table.

For a second, it’s almost like we’re old friends, celebrating a win. But then I remember what we really are: rivals in a tough market. Admittedly, my sellers have driven my ass nonstop to get to this point. I’m sure Alison’s buyers have been pressuring her too, since their best and final offer was presented last week.

I wasn’t trying to be a complete asshole, but I know as well as she does that this kind of Hollywood Hills property is as rare as hen’s teeth, so it was always going to be a push to the finish line to get my clients the best price. It’s the game.

We simultaneously raise our glasses to our lips and take a sip; granted, mine is more a guzzle to her dainty mouthful. She leaves behind a tiny drop of the expensive French champagne on her lower lip, and I can't help but wonder how it tastes off her skin.

I should thank Gina, our server, later, and not because she did wonders in picking the most expensive bottle. Right now, I don’t care.

“I need to call my clients,” she says, putting her glass down on the table. “If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Why don’t we order first, assuming you’ll share a meal with me for old times’ sake?” Surely she will. I mean, I hope so. She definitely looks more agreeable now… and she still has those fucking glasses on.

“I suppose.” She picks the menu back up. “I did dress up and all.”

I smirk. “That you did. And can I just say, it’s been a pleasure working under you on this deal.” Fuck me, do I have no filter? Is this what my sons were referring to about me having fun?

She narrows her eyes at me, but I notice the flush to her cheeks. “Under you?”

“You know what I mean.”

“You forgot up, down and everywhere in between.”

I try not to show my surprise at that little tweet from her lips, but I have to wonder.

Is there a little fun-loving to be had somewhere deep in the depths of that cold heart belonging to my rival?

“That too.” I reach for another sip, glad she’s getting in on the act and loosening up a little. I definitely don’t joke around like this with any of my other colleagues, but Alison always lets me play an innings, you gotta admire that.

We stare at each other for a moment, then her eyes flick back to the menu. “If you don’t mind ordering, I’ll take the shrimp as my appetizer and the pasta bake for the main course, with a green side salad please,” she says and I’m certain she’s trying to change the subject.

“Coming right up.” I promptly close my menu as she pushes back her seat. I half stand as she grabs her purse, giving me a quick nod and walks across the restaurant.

I watch her gorgeous svelte legs and her perfect ass as she retreats in that fucking slip of a red dress and high heels. I sit back down just as Gina arrives over at the table to check if we’re ready to order.

I grin. If only I could convince Ali to come to Palm Springs and let her hair down.

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