Page 12 of Rival Desires

Ugh, I was dreading that chat with Fury. He was going to go all Hulk-smash on me, no doubt. He was that overprotective big brother type who transformed into a green rage monster at the faintest whiff of trouble for his friends.

But this wasn’t just about me. Our company was on the line here. Fury needed the 411 on Rylee’s sneaky moves. If she had the nerve to play me not once but twice, who knows what other shenanigans she was cooking up for her business deals?

I sauntered into our building, breakfast and coffee in hand, giving a friendly nod to the security guy. It was still early, but I knew Fury would be nestled in his office, especially on a Monday. The guy’s a creature of habit.

Fury looked genuinely surprised as I stood in his doorway with my peace offering. I couldn’t blame him; I wasn’t exactly known for being the office’s morning pastry fairy.

“You? Bringing me breakfast?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Something’s up. What gives?”

“I figured it’s either this or whiskey,” I said, dropping the bag on the table. “And booze in the morning isn’t a great look.”

His expression morphed from curious to full-on worried in a flash. “Alright, lay it on me.”

“Remember that swanky masquerade ball where I, shockingly, found myself tangled up with some mysterious lady?”

“Sure, I do. And hey, I’m stoked for you, cuz. You deserved a little fun.”

I tossed Rylee’s business card his way. “Well, your happiness might change when you discover that the ‘mystery woman’ was Rylee Palmer herself. And FYI, we hooked up twice.”

Fury’s coffee cup froze mid-air like time had suddenly hiccupped while he examined the card. “Wait, what? Rylee Palmer is a woman, and you slept with her twice?”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure she did it just to screw with us.”

EIGHT

Rylee

I dashed out of the store, my cheeks wet and teary. The shock of discovering that the new guy in my life (or whatever he was) was Cory McCrae, my rival, felt like getting hit by a truckload of bricks. It was so fucked up I couldn’t find the words to describe it. My head was spinning with a whirlwind of feelings, and I was way beyond just being upset – I was completely steamed, feeling like fate had played a cruel trick on me.

I picked up the pace, practically sprinting to my car, brushing off the puzzled looks from the other folks on the sidewalk. How on earth had this happened? How did I let down my guard and let myself get duped like this? The anger coursed through me, and I balled my fists, my nails biting into my palms. All I wanted was to get the hell out of there, find a quiet spot, and try to make sense of this whole freaking mess.

I flung myself into the driver’s seat and slammed the car door. My fists pounded the steering wheel like a wild drummer, the sting barely registering through the haze of my fury. Each thud echoed my frustration, and I kept going until my knucklesscreamed for mercy, and my tears had no choice but to take a breather.

I leaned back against the seat, shut my eyes, and sucked in a deep breath, trying to tame my heart. Inhale, exhale, I chanted silently, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing, hoping it would lasso my emotions and drag them back under control.

Once my breaths leveled out and my heartbeat slowed to something resembling normal, I reluctantly faced the music. I needed a game plan, a strategy for dealing with this colossal curveball life had thrown my way. It was time to put on my big-girl pants and figure out this mess.

Before I could peel out of there, my phone started buzzing in my bag. I peeked at the screen, and my heart dropped when I saw Dad’s name flashing. For a second, I thought about letting it go to voicemail and making a run for it, but that old sense of duty kicked in, and I groaned as I swiped to answer.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, sounding as neutral as Switzerland.

“Rylee, how’s my little girl doing?” His voice was about as warm and fuzzy as a robot’s. “I’ve been hearing good things about your business in Palo Alto. Word on the street is you’re making quite the splash.”

Now, that was weird. Was he keeping tabs on me or something? Shouldn’t his hands be full wrangling those billionaire bigwig clients of his instead of snooping around my little company?

“I’m doing fine, Dad,” I said, keeping my voice even. “And yes, business is going well. Thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been chatting you up to my partners,” he said, “and let me tell ya, their ears perked right up when they heard about yourgig. We think it could be a slam dunk for both sides if we teamed up.”

I clenched my jaw, barely holding back the fiery retort that wanted to escape. Oh, I knew exactly what kind of “partnership” my old man had up his sleeve. He’d waltz in and take control; before I knew it, my clients would be his.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I managed to say, my tone as tight as a drum. “My business is doing A-OK without any help.”

“Ah, Rylee, you know I’ve got your best interests at heart,” he said, oozing manipulation like a cheap used car salesman. “Just imagine how much the firm could grow if I lent a hand. It’s a lot for just you to handle, right?”

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms, and I fought the urge to let out a frustrated scream. Oh, I knew Daddy all too well. I was sure he really meant it was too much for awomanto handle.

“I gotta go, Dad,” I said and flung my phone onto the passenger seat. The screen lit up briefly before fading to black, cutting off the call. My dad’s voice still echoed in my head, a cacophony of expectations and manipulations. But I refused to let him control me any longer. He may have wanted a son to take over his empire, but he got me instead, and I was determined to prove that I was just as capable, if not more so.

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