Page 121 of Collide

“Elena,” Riley starts, her voice laced with accusation. “What the fuck was that?”

“What?” I feign innocence.

“Don’t be coy. You andBradleyeye-fucking each other, and why didn’t you tell me about him?”

Guilt knots in my chest. I have no excuse, but I still feel like I need one. Like I’m betraying Alex somehow, even though he’s not here.

“I didn’t tell you about him because there’s nothing to say, and it’s Broderick,” I correct her, trying to keep my voice steady.

“And you’re defending him,” Riley shoots back, eyeing me like I’ve grown two heads.

“You should’ve seen them at brunch,” Philippa adds, clearly enjoying this way too much. “If looks could strip someone naked, Broderick would’ve been down to his boxers.”

“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face. “It’s nothing.”

Riley snorts. “Babe, that wasnotnothing. That wasI want to climb you like a treeenergy.”

I glare at her, but Philippa nods in agreement, raising a brow. “So youareinterested?”

I hesitate. My mind screams at me to say no, to dismiss it, to make some half-hearted excuse. But the heat still lingering in my body from Broderick’s stare tells a different story.

“It’s…complicated,” I admit finally.

Riley gives me a pointed look. “Because of Alex?”

A sharp pang runs through my chest at his name. Thinking of him makes my heart ache. He hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend yet, so by Riley’s standards, I’m still a ‘free agent,’ but why do I feel guilty? There’s history there—emotions and feelings tangled.

But Broderick is different. He’s something else entirely. A pull I don’t understand. A tension that’s partly annoying, kind of funny, but also magnetic.

“We’re…around each other, because of Philippa’s wedding,” I deflect, shooting my sister a weak glare.

Philippa smirks. “Didn’t realize seducing the best man was part of your maid of honor duties.”

“Pip!” I shriek.

“What’ll it be, ladies?” the bartender asks.

Philippa leans in. “Something hydrating. My sister’s a littlethirsty.”

The bartender chuckles.

Riley throws her head back, laughing. “Babe. You are so fucked—metaphorically speaking.”

And for the first time tonight, I think she might be right.

Across the room, my father and Carole are watching. My father, ever the businessman, is deep in conversation with a senator, while Carole offers me a small, polite nod. It’s odd seeing her here, playing the polished socialite wife. It still isn’t easy, but I’m trying.

We head back to our table and take our seats. Broderick’s gaze is smug as he watches me from across it. I keep my expression neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction—or Riley and Philippa any ammunition. He arches a brow, as if I’ve just raised the stakes—and he’s more than happy to play.

While the speaker talks about the charities, silent auctions, and donations coming in, she calls Broderick up to the stage.

He winks at me as he stands, his large hands buttoning his suit jacket as he makes his way to the podium. I sip my drink, desperate to mask the smirk cracking on my face.

I will not show any emotion. Riley nudges me knowingly.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says, his voice smooth and confident.

“It’s an honor to be here tonight, surrounded by people who understand the power of generosity. We’ve just been told that we’ve raised seven million so far—enough to build hundredsof homes in various third-world countries. That’s not just a number; that’s real families who will have a roof over their heads because of you.”