Page 181 of My Ruthless Opponent

Iglance at Raleigh who is sitting in a lounge chair across from Summer who’s curled up on the couch.

He is still in his t-shirt and jeans from earlier sans the jacket.

I tear my eyes off him to take in Summer’s appearance. She has changed into a rainbow-striped oversized t-shirt and black shorts.

My eyes fall on the coffee table. The chocolate basket Victor gave me rests on it, a few wrappers of chocolates littering around it.

They were catching up. My gaze moves between the two of them.

“Am I interrupting?” I ask softly, ignoring how my chest is squeezing.

“No. I was about to head to bed. We were just hanging out.” Summer stands. “How was the party?”

“Good.” I fuss over my jacket to avoid looking at either of them.

I should demand answers as to why she was here when she claimed she was tired to join me at the party. But I don’t.

From the corner of my eye, I see her giving Raleigh a side hug before she walks in my direction.

I tense a bit when she hugs me too. “Good night.” She murmurs before walking past me and out the door.

The door shuts behind her and I drop the jacket on the console table on my way to the bedroom. I am too exhausted for this.

Raleigh follows me and wraps his arms around me from behind. “Did you have a good time?” He kisses my hair and I stiffen.

“I need to change.” I squirm out of his embrace and pad over to the closet.

He catches my wrist. “Is everything okay?”

I mutter a clipped “Yes” and wait for him to let go of me. He doesn’t.

“Why do I think you are lying?”

I shrug.

“Are we back at it again?”

I twist my wrist in his hold. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

He tightens the grip. “You know exactly what I am talking about. I felt the way your shoulders stiffened when I touched you. You are upset so you are closing yourself off.”

I yank my hand free. “You are a psychologist now?”

“Far from it. But I am attuned to you. I can sense your discomfort, princess.”

I don’t know what happens to me after hearing him call me princess but my control snaps. I face him. “Donotcall me that.”

He looks perplexed.

“I am not a spoiled brat so quit calling me princess.”

“Is that what you think? That I still mock you by calling you that?” He asks quietly.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t give a fuck.”

I am doing that again. Hurting him with words because I am hurting. Because I couldn’t bring myself to explain what I am going through.

My lips tremble when pain fills his eyes.

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