Page 6 of My Ruthless Opponent

I twist it and find it unlocked. I step inside and I’m met with Andrew’s naked ass.

“What the fuck—” Andrew turns his head at the doorway and stills. He is balls deep in a woman with red hair.

“Surprise.” My dead stare takes in their naked bodies.

I walk up to them, my face completely stripped of emotions. Like a blank canvas.

I drop the keys on his nightstand and the takeout bag by the bed. They disengage but I don’t wait for him to put his clothes on.

The same old cliché shit pours out of his mouth. He calls out my name as I step out of his bedroom.

I pull the front door close on my way out, canceling his yelling.

When I reach the lobby, I crouch to look at the redness forming around my heel.

I take my shoe off from one foot to relieve the skin which is raw from blisters.

After a few seconds, I step into the shoe, the texture of it rubbing against the wounds.

I walk the fifteen-minute-long distance to my office on an empty stomach in the unforgiving heat of LA.

By the time I exit the elevator and walk toward my desk, I am limping.

SNAP!

I lose my footing and fall when one of my heels snaps.

My cheeks heat in embarrassment as I try to avoid eye contact with my coworkers.

I reach for my broken heel and curse under my breath when my fingers tremble again.

I wince when the shoe doesn’t easily come off, the wound glued to it.

I tug forcibly and whimper when it comes off.

I stare at the broken black pump in my hand for a long time.

I vaguely notice that not one person came forward to help me up.

A drop of liquid falls on the matte material of my shoe. One more. I watch with fascination as the drops fall in rapid succession.

“Aww, don’t cry, princess. You can always buy a new one.” A deep voice filtrates my ears.

I can’t buy a new one. I barely have any money to go by this month. Wait, what did he say? Don’t cry?

I reach up and find my cheeks wet.

“If your melodrama is over, can we please get back to work? Or are you waiting for a standing ovation?” he chuckles.

My eyes snap up. Raleigh Jackson.

His eyes bore into mine and I see it. Pure hatred. Disgust.

He looks at my bleeding heel for a second. If he was feeling any kind of sympathy for me after seeing my condition, he doesn’t voice it.

Instead, he turns his back to me and walks away.

“He’s coming over.” I hear Brielle whisper to my right.

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