Page 25 of My Ruthless Opponent

I decide to head to the meeting room. I still have five minutes left.

Archer didn’t mention the agenda of the meeting so I don’t carry my laptop.

My phone pings with a message.

Still walking, I check it.

The message is from Chris.

Chris: It’s a wrap! I survived! *gif of Kermit dancing*

I snort and send him an emoji of a thumbs up. There are a few more messages from a group chat.

I go through the conversation with rapt attention because they are discussing the charity gala I am planning to attend this Saturday.

I am so engrossed in the phone that I collide against a wall. No, not a wall. A hard muscled chest.

A quick upward glance has me jerking away.

Raleigh fucking Jackson.

I cry out when a lock of my hair gets stuck to the coin charm of his silver necklace.

I try to yank it but his hand covers mine. The other going to the back of my head.

“Easy, princess.” He smirks, his baby blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Fuck you.” I grit out and try to shake his grip on my fingers. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he tightens it.

“I’ll let that one slide as you’re clearly having a bad day.” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Thanks to you, asshole.” I tilt my chin up.

We are so close that I can see his pupils are dilated. This close I can feel the heat of his body.

My senses can’t avoid how good he smells. I am forced to breathe him in. His scent. It’s a mixture of expensive cologne and clean soap. All spicy and masculine.

A strange kind of awareness invades me. Awareness of him. And I fucking hate it.I hate him.

I begin pushing away again.

This time, the fingers of his other hand that was cradling my head, fists my hair. “Stop fighting all the time.”

My chest heaves up and down.

He is staring at me with furrowed brows. The weight of his stare is unbearable. It is caging me. It’s suffocating.

With a newfound fury, I reach up and fist a handful of his thin t-shirt. Yanking him closer, I say, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re into me,RJ.” I spit out his nickname and his eyes darken.

He remains silent and works on the strand caught in his necklace.

In a minute, he successfully separates the charm from my hair.

Now that he’s done, I expect him to get his hands off me and step back.

Because he hates me too, right? I disgust him so much that he can do right about anything to ruin my day.

He loathes me so much that he keeps calling me princess, reminding me of the day I broke up with Andrew a year ago.

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