Chapter 7 #2
“So we just stand by and watch while the next generation of Wildes splinters apart?” Dad’s frustration was palpable. “After how hard you fought, how much you gave up, to keep us together.”
A heavy silence followed, and Elliot felt a twinge of guilt. His father wasn’t wrong. What had once been an unbreakable family unit was fracturing along fault lines that had been there for years, deepened by Praetorian’s attacks and the impossible choices they’d all faced.
“It’s not our battle anymore,” Greer finally said, his voice softer but no less firm. “We built the foundation. We taught them what family means. Now they have to figure out how to stand on their own.”
“I don’t like it,” Dad said.
“That we can agree on,” Cam added.
“None of us like it,” Greer replied. “But, Cam, Jude, they need to work this out themselves. Our interference will only make the rift worse, and we won’t be around forever to?—”
Elliot backed away from the door, having heard enough. He’d known things were bad, but hearing the older generation’s helplessness made it suddenly, painfully real.
How many times had he heard stories of the original five Wilde brothers fighting, splitting, coming back together?
But this felt different. It wasn’t just a normal family squabble.
The breach was about trust, shattered and stomped upon.
About Davey choosing the safety of the company—and Rowan—over Cade’s position within it.
About Cade walking away rather than accepting what he saw as betrayal.
And caught in the middle was everyone else. Including him.
“Everything okay?” Rue asked quietly as he rejoined her by the elevator.
“Yeah.”
“Liar.” She looped her arm through his as the doors opened and they stepped into the car. “Family’s complicated.”
Elliot exhaled slowly. “Mine more than most.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. You have four uncles and ten cousins, but I have an entire mercenary team of honorary uncles.
” She nudged his shoulder gently with hers.
“And once, when I was thirteen, my dad threw a trainee through a plate glass window at Thanksgiving dinner because—gasp—he kissed me. That trainee was Jackson Quinn, the son of Dad’s second-in-command.
It was an all-out civil war for, like, four months until Mom locked Dad and Quinn in a room until they worked it out.
They came out with black eyes, but it was all good after that. ”
Despite everything, he felt his lips twitch. “Was that your first kiss?”
“And last, as far as my dad was concerned. He thinks I’m still an innocent virgin.”
Heat curled low in Elliot’s gut at that, entirely inappropriate given the conversation and the fact that she was practically family—or at least, she would be soon enough. He just had to keep reminding himself of that fact.
But his mind betrayed him, supplying a vivid image of Rue not being innocent at all, of exactly how un-virginal she could be if he ever let himself cross that line.
He realized Rue was watching him with a knowing smirk, as if she could read every thought in his head.
He cleared his throat. “So… Jackson Quinn, huh?”
“Oh, give me a break. I was thirteen. You can’t tell me you had great taste at thirteen.”
“Is that how he got that scar on his eyebrow?”
Rue’s grin turned wicked. “And why he still flinches whenever he sees my dad.”
The elevator doors opened to the underground garage, and Elliot led the way to his car, keys jingling in his hand. The concrete space was cool and quiet, their footsteps echoing off the walls.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, pausing as they reached his car. “I had fun tonight. Your family’s intense, but in a good way.”
“Even with the Cold War erupting in the middle of cake?”
“Especially then.” She grinned. “Makes me feel right at home.”
Elliot shook his head, unlocking the car with a click. “You’re a strange woman, Rue Bristow.”
“So I’ve been told.” She slid into the passenger seat as he opened the door for her, the leather creaking beneath her weight. “But admit it, you like that about me.”
He didn’t answer, just closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. Because yes, he did like that about her. He liked too many things about her, and that was becoming a problem.
The engine rumbled to life, and Elliot backed out of the parking space, the familiar motions giving his hands something to do while his mind raced.
The drive to Rue’s hotel wouldn’t take long—fifteen minutes at most through late-night Manhattan traffic.
Fifteen minutes to get his head straight before saying goodnight and heading back to his empty apartment to finish packing for Antarctica.
“So,” Rue said as they pulled out onto the street, “was it a good birthday, all things considered?”
Elliot thought about it, about the surprise on the seventh floor, his family gathered together, the momentary peace before Cade arrived, and the fault lines reappeared. “Yeah,” he said finally. “It was good. Thank you for being part of it.”
“I didn’t do much. Just helped your mom with the cake and kept you distracted.”
“Still.” He glanced at her, the streetlights casting alternating patterns of light and shadow across her face. “It meant a lot that you were there.”
Something softened in her expression, a vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to see. “Well,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, “I wanted to be there.”
The simple honesty in her words hit him harder than any of her usual teasing. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, forcing his eyes back to the road.
They drove in comfortable silence for a few blocks, the city lights blurring past the windows. Rue shifted in her seat, angling her body toward him.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, breaking the quiet.
“Depends on what it is.”
“What did you wish for? When you blew out the candles?”
Elliot felt his mouth quirk. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“That’s just superstition,” she scoffed. “Besides, I’m curious.”
“I’m shocked,” he deadpanned. “Rue Bristow, curious about something that’s none of her business.”
She laughed, the sound warm and bright in the confined space of the car. “Come on, El. Just tell me.”
He glanced at her again, taking in the way her eyes caught the passing lights, how her honey-gold hair fell across her shoulders. She looked softer somehow, outside the glittering penthouse party and away from his family’s drama. More real.
She’d kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her on the passenger seat, making herself at home in his carefully maintained car without a second thought. That was so Rue—claiming spaces as her own, comfortable anywhere.
He envied that.
The traffic light ahead turned red, and he eased to a stop. In the sudden stillness, he felt her gaze on him.
“So…?”
“I wished for my family to be whole again,” he said, the admission more vulnerable than he’d intended. He stared at the red light, waiting for it to change, suddenly regretting his honesty.
“That’s a good wish,” Rue said softly. Her hand moved to rest lightly on his forearm, the touch warm through his shirt sleeve. “Think it’ll come true?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” The light changed, and Elliot guided the car forward, using the movement as an excuse to pull his arm away. “Davey and Cade... what happened between them runs deep. It’s not just about the job anymore.”
“What is it about?”
“Trust,” he said finally. “Davey had to make an impossible choice, and Cade felt betrayed by it. Now neither of them knows how to back down without losing face.”
“Ah.” Rue nodded, like that explained everything. “Male pride. The deadliest force in the universe.”
Despite everything, Elliot found himself smiling. “You say that like women don’t have pride.”
“Oh, we do. But we’re smarter about it. We hold grudges quietly and get revenge through strategic social warfare.” She grinned wickedly. “Much more civilized.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
Her smile was slow and wicked. “You might like my bad side.”
Heat flashed through him.
They fell silent again as Elliot turned onto the street where Rue’s hotel stood, its elegant facade lit against the night sky. The car’s interior felt suddenly smaller, more intimate in the shadow of the tall buildings.
“I think they’re both right,” Rue said after a moment, “Davey made the safest call for the company, and I can’t fault him for it because he saved my sister. But Cade has every right to feel betrayed.” She paused, her eyes reflecting the passing streetlights. “But family should come first. Always.”
Elliot glanced at her, struck by the quiet conviction in her voice. For all her wild energy and reckless adventures, Rue Bristow understood loyalty in a way few people did.
“I’m sorry your birthday ended like that,” she added softly.
“It didn’t end badly,” he found himself saying as he pulled under the hotel’s elegant awning. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
He watched the slow bloom of her smile in the dim light, the way it softened her features and made her eyes sparkle.
“Careful, Wilde,” she teased, but there was something warm and hopeful beneath the playfulness. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
He shifted the car into park, turning toward her fully for the first time since they’d left the brownstone. “It was.”
The air between them changed, charged with something neither of them had acknowledged directly despite months of dancing around it. Rue’s smile faded, replaced by something more serious, more questioning.
“Elliot,” she said, his name somehow different in her mouth than it had ever been before. Not the casual “El” she usually threw at him, but his full name, weighted with meaning.
He should pull back. Set boundaries. Remember the mission, the professional lines they shouldn’t cross. Remember that in two days, they’d be heading to one of the most dangerous places on Earth, where distractions could be fatal.
But with her looking at him like that, with the memory of his fractured family fresh in his mind, all he wanted was the simple comfort of connection. Of her.
Rue’s hand moved from his arm to his face, her fingers light against his jaw. The touch sent electricity skittering down his spine, warming him from the inside out. He leaned into it slightly, watched her eyes widen in response.
“We probably shouldn’t,” he murmured, even as he shifted closer, drawn to her warmth like a moth to flame.
“Probably not,” she agreed, but she was leaning in too, her gaze dropping to his mouth.
The space between them narrowed, the car suddenly too warm despite the winter chill outside.
Her breath ghosted across his lips, and he could smell her perfume—something tropical and wild that suited her perfectly.
His hand found the curve of her waist, steadying himself or her, he wasn’t sure which.
Another inch, and the line would be crossed. Another heartbeat, and there would be no going back.
A car horn blared behind them, long and impatient, shattering the moment like glass. Elliot jerked back, reality rushing in with the harsh sound. They were under a hotel awning, blocking the entrance for other guests. The valet was gesturing apologetically from his stand.
“Shit,” he muttered, then glanced at Rue, expecting embarrassment or frustration.
Instead, she was smiling—that knowing, mischievous smile that never failed to both irritate and captivate him. She gathered her purse, sliding her feet back into her shoes with unhurried grace.
“You know what they say about anticipation, El,” she said, her voice husky with promise as she reached for the door handle. “Makes the eventual payoff that much sweeter.”
Before he could respond, she was out of the car, leaning back in just long enough to add, “Sweet dreams, birthday boy,” before shutting the door with a decisive click.
Elliot watched her saunter into the hotel, turning once to wave at him with a wiggle of her fingers that somehow managed to be both innocent and provocative. The valet approached, asking if he needed assistance, but Elliot waved him off, putting the car in drive.
As he pulled away from the hotel, the ghost of her almost-touch lingered on his skin. Antarctica loomed ahead of them—three weeks of pretending to be engaged, of professional boundaries and deadly stakes. Three weeks of Rue Bristow at close quarters, with the memory of tonight between them.
He was so utterly, completely screwed.