Page 32 of Bitter Rival

I don’t know if that was another dig comparing me to my mother or if it was just a shot in the dark.

Either way, I don’t like what he’s insinuating, and I have no interest in spending another minute in his presence.

So I push myself out of the water and sit on the edge of the hot tub.

Noting the way his gaze roams down my body, I let my knees fall open and lean back on my hands, laughing to myself when he quickly averts his head.

His jaw is clenched and the little muscle in his cheek pulses.

I’ve won this round, using the only weapon I have at my disposal, but the victory feels cheap and hollow.

I pride myself on not using my body or my looks to get what I want and I’m angry with myself for stooping so low.

But he’s not as invincible as he would like me to believe. He’s made of flesh and blood, with flaws and weaknesses and human needs just like the rest of us.

Guess he’s not a robot, after all.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I need my beauty rest,” I say breezily, slinging one leg over the side and then the other, and giving him a view of my backside as I slide to the ground. “I promised to call my partner in crime and let him know how things are progressing,” I call over my shoulder as I saunter away singing ABBA’s “Money, Money, Money.”

It’s a double whammy–a song about a girl looking for a wealthy man to supplement her finances by a Swedish band.

Astrid was–still is, I guess–half Swedish and half Norwegian.

She grew up on a farm in Minnesota and was raised by a stern father who kicked her out of the house when a horse trainer knocked her up at seventeen.

The story goes that they ran away together to build a new life. My mother was still young and naive after living a sheltered life; he was older and more street smart, and she was completely enamored by his charms and good looks.

After I was born, he lost a shitload of money betting on the horses and borrowed from a loan shark. When it came time to pay off his debt, he didn’t have the money so he forced Astrid to do his dirty work.

That was how it all began.

My father was a real prince—a drunk, a con man, a gambler, and a thief.

So while I don’t condone the things Astrid has done in her life, I understand how she became who she is and why she made the choices she did.

I’ve never seen her as a victim and never will, but circumstances beyond her control drove her to take drastic measures to ensure her safety and mine.

My mother taught me a valuable lesson at a young age. Survival is a talent, Daisy.

Humans are programmed to survive, and as I’ve learned over the years, people will do just about anything to save their own skin.

They will also go to great lengths to win back their freedom. And my mother…she went all the way.

But I’m not my mother. I’m just the girl Robert Heyward tasked with righting her wrongs.

Although, the more time I spend with Beckett Heyward, the less likely it seems that I’ll succeed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Beckett

On Monday morning, I look up from my laptop when Caiden Donnelly crosses the terrace in dusty work boots with an enormous thermos in his hand.

I haven’t seen him in years, but I’d know him anywhere. He still has the same swagger and cocky grin that I remember from our youth.

I set my laptop aside and stand to greet him. We exchange a bro hug, and he gives me an extra hard slap on the back. I return the favor by thumping his back with my closed fist.

“Still a competitive asshole, I see,” he says.

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