Ruthless Rival

By Erica Frost

I'm a woman on the way up. My brother's best friend is the glass ceiling.

In my last year at Harvard Law School, I'm in an internship at the firm of my dreams.
My main competition: my brother's charming, handsome—cutthroat—best friend.
I'm the only one who's onto him.
Everyone else only sees how smooth and confident he is.

I grew up with him and I know where that confidence comes from.
He'll smile in your face and fight dirty behind your back.
If he takes this job, I lose everything I've worked for.

So I'll ignore his gorgeous looks and his smoking hot body, and be ready for his sleazy schemes.
I've played by the rules 'til now, but for him, I'll throw the rules out.
And if he thinks the way to this job is through my heart, he's in for a big surprise.

Ruthless Rival is a standalone new adult romance with a HEA and NO cheating!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erica Frost
• Release date: Aug 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223324935

Book preview

Chapter One

Lucy

The morning of the disaster starts with a bang. Literally—as my hand swipes out to hit my alarm and shut off its incessant ringing, I send the whole thing flying to the floor and jolt out of bed at the sound of cracking plastic.

No, no, no, I say, mostly to myself though my roommate Rachel is now staring at me in sleepy bewilderment from her side of our campus-provided room.

Lucy? Are you okay? Rachel asks, her voice thick with the sleep I just woke her up from. I stumble out of bed and scoop the alarm up, setting it gingerly down on the nightstand beside my bed. There’s a fat crack down the center of it now, splitting the blinking numbers in half. 6:30.

Shit, I whisper, snatching my towel off the closet door where I hung it up to dry. I was supposed to be up half an hour ago. I must have slept through the first alarm.

You’ll be fine, you said the first day of your internship doesn’t start until 7:00, right?

Rachel has always been the optimist out of the two of us, able to turn any situation around until it becomes positive. But I’m not quite sure that she’ll be able to talk her way into making today work out—the nerves in my stomach are already preparing to tear me apart.

Right, but I still have to shower and it’s a fifteen-minute ride on the train to get to the office. I grab my shower caddy and hurry out of the room as Rachel calls reassurances to my back. As much as I love her, I don’t have time for comfort right now—I need to be showered and dressed in the next ten minutes or everything I’ve worked for in the past three years of law school at Harvard University have been for nothing.

Harvard. It still feels like a dream to say it—I, Lucy Shaw, made it to Harvard, school of my dreams, where I’ve fought my way to the top of my class and worked toward establishing myself as a real lawyer. Despite the countless people who told me to be realistic, to abandon these dreams, to give up the hopes that I had spent my whole life creating, I made it exactly where I said I was going to be. And I landed a prestigious internship at the firm everyone in my class wanted. I am now an intern with Dean & Valiant Associates, a star student ready to prove herself to the masses that demand so much of her.

Now, if only I didn’t have to depend on Harvard’s summer housing with their finicky showers to make myself look presentable.

The dorm building Rachel and I got stuck with is ancient, and the water either runs ice cold or boiling hot depending on the day. It’s basically only us and a few scattered students in the building—everyone else headed home for the summer, or made the smarter choice and found an apartment in Boston for themselves. Being the broke college student that I am, student housing was the only option left for me, so it would have to do.

I hurry into the communal bathroom and find a shower stall, slipping out of my clothes as my shower shoes squelch on the damp floor. I set down my caddy and turn the knob, bracing myself for whatever temperature the water will choose to be today. Except—nothing happens. I stand there, naked and shivering, and watch the dry shower head stare back at me.

Then, the piece of paper catches my eye. There’s a notice taped beside the curtain that lays my worst fears out for me.

Due to maintenance, showers are shut off starting from the first of June to the seventh. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please feel free to use the shower facilities in the nearest on-campus exercise room.

Are you kidding me? I whisper, a sickly feeling sinking deep into my chest. I tug my clothes back on and rush over to the sink, deciding instead to just rinse my hair there and hope for the best. When I hurry back into our room looking like a drowned rat, Rachel’s mouth drops open. She’s still in bed scrolling through her phone, and suddenly I wish that we could trade places. I could take her summer job as a barista downtown, and she could show up to this internship for me and show everyone that I’m not the failure everyone seems to expect when they see a small and timid-looking girl.

What happened to you? She asks from behind her phone.

No time to explain, I say back, tugging a white blouse over my head with a pencil skirt zipped around my waist in a flash. I dust some makeup over my face with a quick addition of lipstick and mascara. Then I brush my damp hair back and slip my feet into a pair of heels. The whole look is decently professional, despite the way my hair is already making the shoulders of the blouse damp, and I clip it back, hoping the train ride will at least give it a little bit of time to dry.

Here, Rachel says, picking up a to-go cup on her own nightstand to hand it to me. I made coffee while you were, er…showering, kind of. You need it more than I do right now.

You’re a life saver, I say as I grab it and take a grateful sip. It warms me all the way through. See you tonight! I call over my shoulder to Rachel, and then I’m out the door.

It’s a beautiful summer day in Boston, sun high overhead and birds singing in the trees. The subway near our dorm, usually called the T by us and the rest of Boston, is thankfully a quick walk. I speed over to it as well as I can without rolling my ankle in these heels.

I check my phone. 6:42. Not too bad.

The T shows up in record time, and I tilt my head back to thank the universe for whatever luck I’ve earned after my awful morning. The train speeds forward and I head into the beginning of the rest of my life.

As soon as I’m off the train and hurrying up to the imposing building, my heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my heart. I only have a moment to take it all in but my excitement soars at the sight of it—the dark brick, the vines curling up the sides, the tall original windows with their warped glass. It seems that there are three floors, and the sign outside professes the top floor as the one belonging to Dean & Valiant. I hurry up one ornate staircase, then the next, my heels clicking on each step.

As I turn the corner onto the proper floor, I feel something snag on my leg—the edge of a table waiting at the top of the stairs with décor and a directory. I gasp as I see the gash it left in my tights—a brand new pair of stockings, ruined.

Shit, shit, shit, I breathe, scrambling to try and arrange my skirt in a way that no one will be able to notice the run in the dark stockings as they reveal a patch of my pale skin. In the process, I fumble with the coffee that Rachel so kindly gave me—dumping it down the front of my white shirt in the process.

I stand there, frozen, contemplating my life choices and the consequences of them.

What am I going to do?

I scan the hallway quickly and notice a single bathroom at the end, just past the door that reads Dean & Valiant Associates beside me. I rush to it, knowing that I basically have one minute before I’m supposed to be in the office preparing for my first day of work. But I can’t go in there looking like this.

I shut the door behind me and scramble to tug off my shirt. I have a t-shirt in my bag, a plain beige thing leftover from last weekend when Rachel and I slept over at our friend Maia’s apartment—it’s not very professional, but it will do while I let this mess dry. I stand there like a fool in my bra as I run the blouse under the sink and reach into my bag for the shirt.

And as if I’m being punished for some enormous disaster I might have caused in a past life, the bathroom door swings open. Because of course, like an idiot, I forgot to lock it. As the intruder locks eyes with me, standing there half naked looking like a drowned rat and feeling like I might cry any second, I realize something that makes me want to lie down and die right there on the bathroom floor.

The man who just walked in on me is eerily familiar. He’s another intern by the looks of it—he can’t be much older than me. And when our eyes meet—I know that face—I know that smirk, that dark gaze, the broad shoulders.

I look at Owen Taylor, my older brother’s best friend and the man I hate most on this earth, and I say, Occupied.

He looks me up and down. There’s a tinge of shock to his expression, like I’m the last person he ever expected to see in this law firm bathroom, but it slips into a satisfied look just as quickly. His eyes drag across my revealed skin, the freckles on my shoulders, the place where my dainty necklace falls between my breasts, the soft green lace of my bra. His smirk stretches wider.

Sorry, my bad. Maybe lock the door next time, Luce.

Then he tugs it shut. I stand there, frozen, wasting precious seconds. Then I toss the blouse in the trash can and shove the t-shirt over my head, feeling a blush go all the way up to my ears, turning me into a walking fire.

I won’t let a man like Owen Taylor take my already terrible morning and ruin it further. This is my big moment—the culmination of all the hard work I’ve put into college and my future.

I stomp out of the bathroom and hurry into the office. I know that I look like a mess—I know that I’m still blushing, that I probably have the look of a bull in a china shop. But I step into the main room where a man is waiting beside Owen, a frown on his face as he glances up at the clock hanging on the wall.

You’re late, he says, and that’s how I learn that this man is Scott Dean, my new boss. I assume you must be Lucy Shaw.

Yes, sir, I say, extending my hand to shake. He takes it and gives it a firm shake. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for my delay. It won’t happen again.

Mr. Dean nods, though his eyes are narrowed slightly as if he doesn’t quite believe what I’m telling him. He gestures a hand in Owen’s direction. This is Owen Taylor, a fellow Harvard student and our other intern for the summer. You two will be working closely with each other, so get familiar now and adjust to spending time with one another.

Oh, I know Owen. I know him better than I’ve ever wanted to, and if I could erase him from my mind, I would in a second.

Owen grins at me. There’s a wicked glint in his eyes, one that I recognize from years of hanging around him and my brother. I always knew that Owen was a year ahead of me at Harvard, and now that he’s a recent graduate I thought I could avoid him completely. But it turns out we both had a similar goal after all.

Owen had always been trouble when we were growing up. Mom and Dad didn’t like him one bit—they thought he was a terrible influence on my brother Gabe, always bringing him along for skate park trips and getting caught lighting things on fire in the woods. Owen was also known to get scrappy with local kids, fighting a few when a capture the flag game got out of control, and even almost getting suspended once for threatening to beat a kid up when things got heated in a high school class. But Owen had one thing the rest of us didn’t—a charming mouth and the wit to sway anyone he met to his side. He earned a scholarship with a high IQ and a smart tongue and escaped our small Massachusetts town for the ivy leagues. 

Too bad he couldn’t knock off the asshole attitude along the way. It’s not fair…if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that he cheated his way to a degree.

Me, on the other hand? I had to study my way to the top. I had to work hard for my Harvard acceptance and prove myself with grades, extracurriculars, and a smile on my face. I had to show everyone that I was capable of this internship and the reputation that comes along with it. Owen shouldn’t be here. He would fit in better in a prison yard, decked out in an orange jumpsuit.

We’re decently acquainted already, sir, Owen says, shaking me from my thoughts with his voice, smarmy and dark. His eyes tear across me, as if they’re tugging the shirt back over my head again.

I want to tell him that he doesn’t know me at all. That no matter how much history we have together, he’ll never understand me.

But, instead, I straighten my shoulders and look Scott Dean in the eyes. Let’s get to work, sir, I say evenly, and he rewards me with a pleased smile.

Chapter Two

Owen

I thought my days spent with Lucy Shaw were long gone. It turns out maybe it’s not so easy to escape your best friend’s irritating little sister, even after you graduate and start a life of your own, with no tethers to your past.

But Lucy isn’t what matters here—no one thought I would ever make it to graduation, let alone land a job, and now here I am in Scott Dean’s office ready to establish myself and make a change in the future everyone always expected me to throw away.

I don’t care if I don’t seem to have the best reputation, if my family and friends know me as the type of man to fight dirty and come out on top, even if it leaves me with blood on my hands. I consider myself dedicated. Lucy’s brother Gabe always understood that about me, and that’s why we’ve been friends since we could walk, though his parents always insisted that I was a bad influence on him. They just didn’t like the fact that Gabe was his own person, and that he wanted to spend time with me creating memories and having a good time, instead of wasting away behind a textbook.

Besides, we both turned out pretty well, didn’t we? I got a scholarship to Harvard, to the chagrin of my parents and every adult in eastern Massachusetts, and Gabe ended up with a full ride to Columbia. Sure, we might have fucked around and wasted time getting into fights or spray painting our names under bridges around the county. But we were bored. We weren’t being pushed to our limits. If there was one thing I always hated, it was wasted potential.

So here I am standing in Dean & Valiant—because I know that I’m worth it, despite my hatred for school. I pushed through Harvard because this was where