Page 84 of The Rivals' Touch

“So what happened?”

I blink against the tears in my eyes. “Bennett happened.”

Her eyes bug out, and she honks her horn at the car in front of us. “You have a gas pedal for a reason, you fucking idiot!” She glances at me. “Sorry.”

I flick my gaze down to her smooth, tanned legs. She’s dressed in frayed jeans shorts.

“He hit you?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit!” She puts her hand on my thigh, and I like how it feels. “Has he done it before?”

I place mine on top of hers, interlacing our fingers. “No, it was the first time.”

“What can I do?”

I study her profile. Her long, wispy lashes touch her cheeks every time she blinks. “You’re doing enough right now.”

She meets my gaze briefly before focusing on the road, and a muscle ticks in her jaw as she checks her side mirror. “It makes me so fucking angry that he put his hands on you like that.”

“I’m engaged to him now.”

Her head snaps my way. “What?!”

I swallow past the lump in my throat and trail my touch over a ring on her finger. “I’m being forced to marry him.”

“But how?” We turn down another street. “How can anyone force you to marry him?”

I look at the passing houses. It’s an affluent street, much like where I live. “My father is a powerful man. So is Bennett’s father.”

“Even so. Can you not refuse?”

I shake my head. My ponytail whips the side of my neck. “No.”

“This is my house,” she says, pulling up by the curb of a white, one-story, ranch-style house.

“Wow! It must be nice not to have stairs.”

She exits the car and presses the key fob. “It’s not as expensive as your house, by any means.”

I snort as we make our way up the driveway. “Ariana likes to flaunt her money.”

She holds the door open and follows me with her hazel eyes as I step into the spacious hallway. The tall ceiling has me craning my head back.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

She walks ahead, past the kitchen and the sprawling living room. The interior wood makes it feel like I’m setting foot in the countryside. I suppose that’s the point of a ranch-style house. The décor is bohemian, in various shades of creams and browns.

“Are your parents not home?”

She points out the window at the house across the street. “They’re at the neighbors. They’ll stay late.”

I scan my eyes over the family photographs on the wall. “You have a sister?”

Legacy glances at the photographs too. “Yes. She’s five years older than me. Moved out last year.”

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