Survival of the Richest by Skye Warren
“Oh.” Sutton must have been modest when he said she filed the paperwork. “Someone suggested that you file the injunction?”
That makes her laugh. “Suggested? No, he wrote it himself. Had the society’s name on the paperwork. All we had to do was bring it to the courthouse.”
“Sutton can be efficient when he wants to be.”
There’s a long pause, where Mrs. Rosemont studies her cup of tea as if it holds the secrets of the universe. “I’m not sure I should tell you this.”
Unease moves through me. “Tell me what?”
Her gray eyes are soft. “It wasn’t Sutton who wrote that injunction and gave it to me.”
“Then who?” Except I already know. There’s only one person who would figure out the exact method of stopping construction. Only one person who didn’t seem at all surprised that it happened. “Christopher.”
She nods. “Mr. Bardot called me that night. We had to wake up a judge, which was something I helped with. There were other things we needed—the testimony of the partner, for one thing. Sutton Mayfair was called in for that.”
My hands feel cold. And then numb. “I don’t understand.”
“I asked him why,” she says, her voice thoughtful. “He didn’t explain himself. I don’t think a man like that explains himself very often.”
Why had Christopher stopped his own construction?
And why had he hidden that fact? Why signal the construction crew to begin when he knew it would end at any minute? Was he hoping to finish quickly? No, that’s not possible. It would have taken too long. And he didn’t have to file that injunction. The library would be a pile of rubble and dirt right now if he hadn’t done that.
It feels like a betrayal to even stand outside his condo.
Some part of me knows I shouldn’t ask this question. This is the railing of the yacht. And beneath me, black water and sharks. Even being here means I might fall.
My arms don’t move when I tell them to knock. My legs don’t move when I tell them to leave. My body is in full rebellion, keeping me rooted to this spot. I’m the one turned to stone.
The door swings open, and dark eyes widen. Christopher.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” I say, hiding my nerves behind a flippant smile. Oh yes, I’m used to this. Brushing past him is easy, even with the big box he’s holding. Maybe because of it. He can’t put it down quick enough to stop me. I push myself up on his granite bar top, swinging my legs.
He follows me more slowly, setting down the box he’s carrying beside a stack of others. “If you’re here about the trust fund—”
“I talked to the hospital. They told me you approved the funds for the butterfly garden. I told them to name it after Daddy, because it’s his money.”
Those dark eyes give away nothing. “Your mother’s in the trial?”
“We discussed it, but she doesn’t want to do it. And I’m okay with that.”
He swings away from me, toward the bank of windows. “I have a lot to do today.”
“Are you moving?” The boxes already say the answer is yes. Not that many boxes for a nice big condo, but he isn’t a man with that many things. That’s strange for someone who wants money, who’s earned a fair amount of it. It makes me wonder why he wants money, if not to spend it.
He sighs. “I suppose I can tell you, since you’re here. I’m leaving Tanglewood.”
The news hits me like a wrecking ball to the stomach. “Why?”
A short laugh. “That’s a question I’ve been asking myself frequently.”
“And the answer is…”
“The answer is that you’ll be more at ease knowing you won’t see me around the corner. There’s nothing here for me if I’m not going to build a shiny new mall.”
“I thought you said the injunction would lose on appeal.”
“It will, but by then the construction company will be knee-deep in a real estate development on the other side of the city. That’s how these things are played. Timing is everything.”
“Timing,” I say, tasting the word.
He waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
“Are you going to build your mall somewhere else?”
“Maybe,” he says, noncommittal, but I read the answer in the hard set of his jaw. Not right away, because his money is tied up in a building that he can’t touch.
“Mrs. Rosemont told me you were the one who wrote that injunction.” The words spill out of me like a dam has opened. I’m shaking with relief to have them out. “Why would you do that, Christopher? You’re the one who wanted that place torn down.”
“I didn’t want it torn down.”
“Um, excuse me. I think I would remember if you said, ‘Harper, let’s leave the library up and save all the books and priceless architectural details.’”
“I wanted something new built. That’s not the same thing as wanting it torn down.”
“It is when there’s a wrecking ball involved.”
His eyes dance with something like humor. “Fair enough. So it’s not going to be torn down. That’s what you wanted. So why are you here?”
“I’m here because you lied to me.”
One eyebrow rises. “I didn’t lie.”
“You should have told me you filed that injunction. Instead you told the construction people to start tearing it down, knowing, knowing it would be stopped.”
His voice is mild. “Like I said, timing is everything.”
“You wanted me to think Sutton had saved the library.”
He turns away, and I know I’ve guessed right. “Does it matter? He did help.”
I cross the room and stand in front of Christopher. It hurts to look at those dark eyes, knowing what he’s done. Somehow it hurts worse to know he saved the library. “Why?”
“Hell,” he says roughly. “You know why.”
I don’t want to hear this, but I can’t make myself walk away. It’s everything I ever wanted from him. Too late, too late. “Spell it out for me.”
“The only reason I was in this city was for you. Because you loved it here, with Avery. Because I thought you belonged here. Turns out you do belong here—with someone else.”
“Why would that matter to you?”
An uneven laugh. “Because I’ve loved you every day since that goddamned will reading. Every day since I dived into the water after you. Probably from the moment I saw you walking up that dock the first day.”
My stomach pitches. “Then why didn’t you fight for me?”
“Oh, there’s a million answers to that one. Stubbornness. Stupidity.”
“And at the end?”
“At the end, you wanted Sutton to be the one to save the library.”
“So you gave it to me,” I whisper, my heart fracturing.
We’re standing only an inch apart. His eyes might as well be a fathomless night sky, deep in the city without a single star. With nothing to guide me. We stood like this in front of Medusa, and he kissed me. She watched us without judgment or fear, the same way the city watches us now.
His head lowers. There’s not time to breathe or think.
When his lips touch mine, there are a thousand stars lit up. I’m the one burning inside the open space of him. I’m the one made hot and raging. He dips his tongue against my lower lip, testing me, tasting me, soothing the wild heat inside with a smooth, dark movement.
A sound comes from the door.
It takes me a while to come back into my body from the places I’ve been. To feel the mechanics of my bones and joints and muscles. To make myself step back. When I do, I can see the door which hangs open behind Christopher.
Sutton stands in the doorway, his blue eyes stark and cold. A lake that’s frozen over. There’s no way to explain what’s happened here, not when I don’t understand it myself. No excuses for the fact that Christopher’s hand is clenched in my hair. He releases me slowly, finger by fing
I watch as he becomes the man form after the will reading. I watch as he becomes a stranger. An enemy. “You were just leaving.”
There are razors in my chest. They turn against me, leaving only ribbons of wanting, the remains of a pointless dream. “Is that why you were kissing me? Because the only way you can touch me is if you know it means goodbye?”
The words hit their mark, an arrow in the heart of a stone. He turns cold. “Does it matter? You have what you wanted.”
Hurt crowds my throat. I cover it up with suspicion. “Sutton?”
“The trust fund. It’s your money. Use it however you want. Buy a thousand goddamned butterflies.”
He leaves me with that terrible victory, having won control of the fortune that should have been mine, having lost the man who never belonged to me. The man I’ve always wanted more than he wants me. Sutton turns sharply to give Christopher his exit, careful not to touch him. No punches thrown. That should be a relief to me. It feels like I took the hit to my stomach instead.
I half expect Sutton to storm out of the apartment, but he stands in front of me. Stands with me in the rubble of trust around us, figurative dust floating in the air, the way we were at the library. He’s the past, he said then. Christopher’s taste is still on my tongue.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sutton says, his gaze past my shoulder, to the wall of windows beyond.
Words crowd my throat, words of apology, but loss steals my voice. I should have learned this by now, that life couldn’t be trusted.
That anything good was only temporary—especially men.
I could say that I didn’t initiate this, that I didn’t come here for this. That it was Christopher who kissed me. But I didn’t stop him. And in my secret heart, I know the truth—I didn’t want to stop him. Sometimes a woman has to face a wrecking ball coming toward her with steady eyes. She knows what’s coming. That’s what I told Christopher. The library might recover. Cleopatra won’t.
“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out raw. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“No? After what we did in your hotel room I don’t think I had any claims of monogamy. You can kiss whoever you want.”
Those same words might come from a man with no desire for commitment. Instead they’re filled with a dark amusement. It makes me remember the glint in his eyes when he watched Christopher take my virginity. The way his Southern charm had slipped for a moment, revealing a cunning underneath. “Whoever I want, as long as you’re in the room, pulling the strings. Is that how you like it?”
There’s heat in those blue eyes. Betrayal and hurt, but enough heat to blaze like summer. “That’s how you liked it, too. I remember how hard you came, honey. Your beautiful thighs trembling. Wet enough to soak the sheets.”
My body responds with suddenness, warmth spreading through my body, a wildfire in a dry forest. This isn’t the time be to be aroused. Sutton must know that. He watches me with that same cunning beneath the surface. It makes me want to toss a pebble into it, to make him ripple. “Why did you come here? Are you following me?”
“It was only a matter of time before you came to see Christopher.”
“That means yes.”
“Do you want me to apologize?” He drawls the word, making it sound like a mockery. Except he should apologize for following me. And like he said, we hadn’t made any promises of monogamy, no matter how shameful I felt to be caught kissing someone else.
Tanglewood is a blade. I’m torn in two pieces, one that loves Christopher. That’s always loved Christopher in all his terrible ambition. And one half that loves Sutton, the man of few words and dangerous trust, the man staring at me like I’m the enemy. “I don’t think you’re that concerned with what I want. This is some sort of game for you, and you’ve been playing since I first met you in the boardroom.”
“You’re a beautiful woman. A man would be crazy not to want you.”
“Except that’s not why you wanted me. It was a competition with Christopher.” The certainty makes my stomach turn inside out. “That’s why you pursued me from the beginning, why you invited me to the gala, why you made me the offer about the historical society.”
Blue eyes glitter. Why have I never seen how much they look like a hard gem? A stone made beautiful and sharp. “You want to question my motives, honey? You’re the one who came storming into the office like a woman on a crusade. Looking for Christopher.”
The words echo in the air around us. Looking for Christopher, he says while we stand in Christopher’s empty apartment. “I didn’t know,” I whisper, my throat burning. “I didn’t know that I loved him.”
And how for me to realize it, when there’s no hope of a happy ending. No solace for me now. No permanence in a gilded world.
Sutton gives me a small smile, this one small and true. “Honest,” he says, a little sad. “Honest to a fault.”
It would have been impossible to choose between these two men, but sometimes love doesn’t give you a choice. The heart has its own balance sheet. It makes its own calculations. I’m the last person to find out what it decides.
I leave the cold, sterile apartment alone, walking down concrete steps to a waiting black car. It’s little comfort that I control the trust fund, that I control my own fortune. I’m one of the richest women in the country. In the world. Money can’t buy love or trust or safety. It can’t stop a thousand pounds of forged steel when it’s already swinging toward me. It can’t make the pain disappear.
Thank you for reading SURVIVAL OF THE RICHEST! I hope you loved Harper and Christopher and Sutton. The final book in the Trust Fund duet, THE EVOLUTION OF MAN, releases this summer! Find out which man Harper ends up with…
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Remember Blue from the Den?
You can read his book now! Fair warning: Blue is a sexy bastard and a dirty talker.
“Better When it Hurts is an intense and heartbreakingly beautiful story. I couldn’t read fast enough to see what would happen next with Blue and Lola. A definite 5 star read for sure!”
~ Jenika Snow, USA Today bestselling author
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I try not to scan the floor when I enter. There’s already a buzz in the air, the hunger and desperation of a strip club on Saturday night. I’m ready to earn money, ready to move my body.
Ready to pretend Blue doesn’t bother me.
He’s nowhere in sight, and I breathe a sigh of relief. A group of men are still gathered near the railing. They’d tipped me pretty well while I was up there, so I figure I have a good shot at a lap dance. I saunter over, my breasts barely contained in the red bikini top, my skin coated in sweat and glitter and the thick smoke of this place.
“Nice set,” says a low voice from behind me.
I turn to see Blue standing there, arms crossed so his muscles bulge, lids lowered in that intense way of his. Shit. “Thanks,” I say, but the only thing I’m really thankful for is that my voice doesn’t shake.
He’s the head of security at the Grand, which should make me feel safe. Except we have a history. And he hates my guts. So there’s no affection in his eyes when they scan me up and down. No kindness in his voice when he adds, “You look great.”
The way he says it, it sounds like a threat. He makes me feel like the scared little girl I used to be when I knew him before. And him? He’s like the big bad wolf, sizing me up before he swallows me whole.
I force myself to shrug at him, to toss my hair. “Thanks, sweetie.”
He circles me, surrounding me. “But then, you always look great. That’s
My throat gets tight. I know that’s what people think of me. They take one look at my lipstick and my short skirt and assume the worst. God, they’re right. But it’s worse to hear it from him. Worse because he once believed in me. “Do you expect me to apologize for earning a living?”
His lids lower. “Not for that.”
I can’t meet his eyes. I know exactly what he wants me to apologize for. And he’ll never believe me. Even showing weakness in this game is enough to get me killed. “I don’t apologize to anyone.”
“Of course you don’t,” he says, his voice full of loathing. “But I don’t want your words.”
I can’t help but whisper, “What do you want?”
That makes him smile. It’s not a nice smile. “I think you know the answer to that.”
He wants to hurt me, to use me. He wants to fuck me. I swallow hard. “That isn’t for sale.”
“I wasn’t planning to pay you.”
This should be easy. Tell him no. Make him believe it. I’ve done this for a thousand men before. Somehow he’s different. Maybe because I don’t really believe it myself.
I know he’s watching me. I know he’s hatching his plans. My heart speeds up every time I turn away from him, wondering if this is the time he’ll pounce. One of these times, he’s going to dig into me with his teeth and his claws. He’s going to hurt me, and I’m not sure I’ll survive it.
Not tonight, though. Not now.
I take a step away from him. “If you aren’t going to pay for my time, I think I’ll find someone who will.”
His eyes darken. “Your call, gorgeous.”
I hear the unspoken message beneath his words, steel under velvet. For now.
Want to read more? Read Better When It Hurts now!
Five years ago Blue was the ultimate bad boy. And my first kiss.
Now he’s back. Tougher, harder, meaner. All of it aimed at me, because I was the one who sent him away. It’s payback time. He wants his pound of flesh, and I am helpless to say no. Gabriel appears at every turn. He seems to take pleasure in watching me fall. Other times he’s the only kindness in a brutal underworld.