The Rivals

“What would your real bid have been?”

“For The Countess?”

I nodded.

“I valued the hotel at just under a hundred million. So my bid would have been two million for the minority share. Why?”

I grinned. “My bid was two point one. I would’ve won anyway.”

Weston chuckled. “Is that important to you?”

“Hell, yeah. I would’ve beaten you fair and square. Now I can lord it over you, rather than have you think you let me win.”

He smiled. “You’re going to lord it over me?”

“Just every chance I get.”

“You know, I’m in grovel mode now. Eventually it’ll irritate me if you rub that in my face. I don’t like to lose. But it’s fine. There’s no one in this world I’d rather fight with or make up with. I see a lot of fighting and fucking in our future.”

I rolled my eyes. “How romantic.”

“That’s me. Mr. Romantic. You’re one lucky girl.”

I picked up the paper and skimmed it. It was the same offer form I’d signed to submit my family’s bid, only this one had $1.00 filled in the spot where the bid amount was to go. My eyes scanned down to the bottom to check the signature. Sure enough, none other than Weston Lockwood had signed it.

I shook my head and looked up at Otto. “I don’t understand.”

He shrugged. “Neither did I. So I called Weston to make sure there wasn’t a mistake. He confirmed that this was indeed his family’s bid.”

“But…that means he wanted to lose?”

Otto took the paper back and folded it up. Sticking it in his pocket, he said, “I think it’s more like he wanted to make sure someone else won.”

“All along, I’d thought our arguing made her so irresistible to me. Her anger was like my flint, and I was the little boy who liked to play with matches. But in this moment, I realized it wasn’t her anger I’d been attracted to at all—it was her strength. When she walked into a room, her beauty was undeniable. When she smiled, it made my knees weak. But when she straightened her spine and her eyes glinted with determination, she wasn’t the flint to my spark. She was the fire. An undeniably beautiful wildfire.

Gorgeous.

Simply perfect.

To: Oil44@gmail.com

From: Weston.Lockwood@LockwoodHospitality.com

I have it. Just waiting until she’s done to see if anything changes.

I felt like I might throw up. Though that was not exactly what I did when the bathroom door opened.

“Tell me what you want.”

I had so many questions. Where would I live? Where would he live? How would we separate business and our personal life when we were essentially competitors? What would our families say? Was it too soon for me to jump into something new? But the one question I knew the answer to was the one he’d just asked.

“You,” I said. “I want you.”

Weston smiled. “Well, that’s easy. You had me from the very start.”

Sophia’s face lit up. “Oh my God. That’s right! How the heck did you remember that?”

“You don’t forget what the dress of a woman you’ve spent half your life sneaking peeks at looks like when you finally get to slip it off of her.”

“You…you used to sneak peeks at me?”

“Every chance I got. I thought you knew that. Though your face just told me I had that wrong. Guess I was pretty stealthy after all.”

“Guess so. I really thought you hated me.”

I smirked. “Oh, I did. But I also wanted to fuck your brains out.”

She laughed. “So not much has changed, then?”

“Nah. Now I just wish I hated you.” I shook my head. “You’re impossible not to l—” I caught myself. “Like. You’re impossible not to like.”

Sophia didn’t seem to notice my slip. Or if she did, she didn’t call me out on it.

Shaking my head, I said, “It wasn’t your job to make Caroline healthy. I think it’s incredible that you donated a kidney. But I’m sure you did it because you loved her, not because you felt obligated to.”

Weston scoffed. “No, Soph. It was my job. I’m a savior baby.”

My brows drew together. “A savior baby?”

He nodded. “Caroline was diagnosed at a year old. My parents conceived me through in vitro fertilization. Only zygotes that were genetically compatible to my sister and free of all genetic diseases were implanted into my mother. I was a walking inventory of spare parts.”

My mouth hung open. “Are you serious?”

“Three bone marrow transplant donations and a kidney.”

I had no idea what to say. “That’s…that’s…”

Weston smiled sadly. “Fucked up. I know. But it is what it is. I honestly didn’t think anything of it growing up. When my sister was sick, I had to stay in, too. I thought my mother was just nervous that I’d bring germs into the house and make Caroline sicker.” He shook his head. “But she wanted to make sure I didn’t get sick so if my sister needed another transplant, I’d be healthy.”

Weston stared into my eyes. “You deserve better.”

“Maybe I don’t want better. You know, I’m pretty much an only child. So if anyone is selfish, it’s me. You might not want other people touching your things. But I want what I want.”

Weston’s eyes dropped to my lips. He reached a finger to my neck and traced my pulse from jawline to my collarbone. “Fine. But no fucking other men while your spoiled ass is getting what she wants.”

I squinted at him. “Fine.”

“Slip off your panties, Fifi.”

I blinked a few times.

He repeated himself, this time more gruff and each word spoken in a staccato burst. “Slip. Off. Your. Panties.”

Weston rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “You want to know a Lockwood secret?” I smiled. “Absolutely.” “I was never the prince of the Lockwood family. They only had me for spare parts.” My smile faded. “What do you mean?” Weston shook his head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

We moved on from our trip down memory lane. When Dr. Halpern asked me how things were going at The Countess, I almost told her how I’d royally fucked up by sleeping with the enemy. But then I figured she might try to keep me here all afternoon to dissect the real reasons I’d done what I did. Because no shrink accepts that sometimes you just can’t handle how the cream buttons on a royal blue silk blouse make you insane. Or how the color of those buttons exactly matches the skin on her neck, and since you can’t bite that neck like you really want to, you have to settle for listening to the little cream pearls ping against the tile floor. Yeah, Dr. Halpern would definitely not understand that. Let’s face it, if she did, she’d be out of business. Because in order for her to maintain this fancy midtown real estate, she needs to psychoanalyze the shit out of everything we do. But the truth of the matter is, sometimes we just act on instinct like an animal. And Sophia damn Sterling has the uncanny ability to bring out the savage in me.

“Adequate? For that remark, I’m going to make you beg next time.” I rolled my eyes. “Get out. This was a gigantic mistake.” “A mistake? Oh yeah, I forgot you like scrawny dudes who are into literature and shit. Would it help if I brushed up on some poetry and recited it while we banged next time?” “Out!” Weston shook his head. “Okay…but like Shakespeare said, It’s better to have fucked and lost, than never to have fucked at all.” I almost let a smile slip out. “I don’t think that’s exactly what he said. But close.” He shrugged. “Guy was a bore anyway.” “Goodnight, Weston.” “Such a shame. Using your own fingers to the memory of what I felt like won’t be half as much fun as round two.” “You have delusions of grandeur.” “’Night, Feef. Great to see you again.” “The feeling isn’t mutual.” Weston walked to the door.

Weston’s hand traveled up my stomach and stopped at the underwire of my bra. I swallowed, knowing I needed to say something before it was too late. “I despise you,” I hissed. Weston responded by cupping my left breast and squeezing hard. “I despise you, and that thing you call a dick that is trying to flatter me with a half-ass, lame erection pushing against my ass right now.” He leaned closer and reached around to cup my other breast. “Feeling’s mutual, Fifi. But I know you remember that thing I call a dick is a fuck of a lot bigger than the little playwright had tucked between his legs—the little playwright whose inadequate dick is probably buried inside your cousin right about now.” I clenched my jaw. Fucking Liam. “At least he didn’t have diseases. You probably have every STD in the book from whoring around Las Vegas.” Weston responded by pushing his hips into my ass. His hot erection felt like a steel pipe trying to burst through his pants. But, God, it felt good. So hard. So warm.