Page 113 of The Rivals' Touch

Unsatisfied with the movie, he starts channel hopping again. “Who says I’m being forced into anything?”

What?

“You don’t want this.”

He drags his eyes away from the TV. “We’ve been together for two years, Remi. I didn’t find out about this days ago like you.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I forgot that you manipulated me for two years. Why?”

He wets his lips and switches off the TV. “It was always in our best interest to be together, Remi.” Our eyes lock. “One day, we will take over our fathers’ businesses. We have to think ahead—”

I cut him off, “Don’t give me that shit! You’re a teenager! I’ve known you for two years, remember? The only thing you care about is beating the next team!”

He leans in. “It seems you don’t know me very well, Remi. Basketball is fun, but it’s temporary. Do you think I’m going to play college ball? NBA?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I thought. It’s your dream!”

He drops his head and shakes it as he chuckles disbelievingly. “You’re so naive. I’m a Beaufort. You’re a Burke. We’re never going to do our own thing.” He points at me. “You’re going to take over your father’s company, whether you like it or not.”

I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. I’ve told him a million times before that I have no such intentions, but it’s a done deal to him.

“Be realistic,” he continues. “If you refuse, you’ll end up six feet under. The business is your father’s beating heart, and he would sooner kill you than sell it.”

I swallow thickly; he’s right.

“If our fathers join forces, just fucking imagine, Remi. They could take their companies to new heights.”

“Is this you talking or your father?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you’ve never asked me what I want to do? You just assumed I wanted to pursue basketball.”

“You’re right,” I reply. “That doesn’t explain why our fathers can’t join forces without this”—I gesture between us—“sham.”

“God, you’re so fucking naive!”

“And you’re brainwashed!”

We glare at each other.

“I don’t even know you anymore,” I whisper, flicking my eyes between his as he grinds his jaw.

“You never knew me!”

“When did you turn into this,” I say, searching for the right word, “monster?”

Incredulous laughter rumbles inside his chest. “Monster?”

“You forced yourself on me!”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You’re my girlfriend, and you were frigid!”

“YOU HIT ME!”

He grows deathly still. A beat passes before he reaches forward to brush a tendril of my hair behind my ear. “You left me no choice, babe.”

I slap his hand away, but he grabs hold of my wrist. His grip is strong enough to make me gasp.

“I suggest you start respecting me!”

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