One Weekend in London

15. Rhys

She’s a vision;I can’t tear my eyes away.

As we stride into the Piccadilly Theatre, Sadie’s hand tucked securely in the crook of my elbow, I feel the weight of curious gazes on us. Whispers follow, the night air thick with speculation.

London’s most notorious bachelor, showing up to a West End premiere with a stunning, albeit unknown, woman on his arm? It’s the stuff of the rubbish tabloids’ dreams. Come morning we’ll surely grace the cover of every gutter press’s daily publication.

For once, I don’t mind.

It’s a mighty steep change, considering I’ve always worked to avoid the paparazzi. But with Sadie now in my life, I want every last bloke in London who holds breath in his lungs and a beating heart in his chest to see her at my side and know she’s mine.

That she’s off-limits; that trying his hand at making her his, stealing her away from me, will lead in only one direction.

Ruin.

Just as touching her led to Thomas’s.

The moment I witnessed his unwanted hand on her bare thigh at The Opulence, it was over for him. Ready to make him an example, I’ve set in motion dismantling his entire world, starting with the portfolio of fine-dining restaurants he was desperate to keep afloat.

Now each of them will soon be mine.

The takeovers won’t be complicated.

Not with the looming debt he’s acquired.

When I’m thoroughly finished with the arse, he’ll be without a roof over his head, skint, and with no pot to piss in. He’s childless, and his wife, Lexi, is a society princess who holds no feelings for the plonker she’s married to.

She made that clear with the dozens of advances she made on first me, then Grant.

Other than her, Thomas has no family, obliterating any semblance of guilt I may have had for destroying his entire existence.

After the multiple stunts he’s pulled, he already had it coming. But he crossed a line when he touched Sadie without consent—there’s no longer a point of return for him.

By my hand, his reckoning is arriving.

Having had enough thoughts of him, I focus back solely on the gorgeous belle beside me, drinking in the way the midnight silk of her dress hugs her every curve, and the way her chocolate-colored hair cascades down her back in a waterfall of gloss and silk.

She’s nothing less than exquisite.

A museum-worthy work of art.

My mind drifts back to earlier in the evening, after Caroline personally delivered Sadie’s bags to the docked yacht, allowing her to dress for our outing in the master suite.

I’d been lounging on the bed, scrolling through an abundance of neglected emails on my mobile, when the ensuite door had swung open, revealing a sight that nearly brought me to my knees.

My love, fresh from the shower, wrapped in nothing but a fluffy white towel that had my company’s initials monogrammed on it.

Water droplets glistened on her golden skin, tracing sinful paths down her neck and collarbone before disappearing into the valley between her breasts.

It had taken every ounce of the gentlemanly control my mum instilled in me not to toss her back on the bed and bury myself inside her, propriety be damned.

Even more so when she’d let the towel drop and reached for the sinful scrap of a black dress laid out on the chaise. The silk and lace clung to her bewitching curves as she’d shimmied into it, the daring slit revealing a tantalizing expanse of toned, tanned thigh.

In that moment, I’d known I’d made the right call in not fucking her senseless. She deserves to be lavished with attention and adoration, to be paraded on my arm for all the world to see.

To know, without question, she’s mine.

I sense her trepidation as we make our way to our private box, her steps faltering slightly on the plush red carpet. Pausing, I turn to face her, my hands coming up to cradle her cheeks, relishing the silken feel of her skin against my palms.

Cameras flash, nearly blinding me.

“What’s wrong, love?”

She looks stunned I’m even asking before beginning to worry her plump lower lip between her teeth, a nervous habit I’m coming to adore. “It’s just... I feel underdressed. All these people, they’re so fancy and I’m...” She gestures to herself, to the simple but stunning dress she brought with her from the States. “Well, I don’t want to embarrass you.”

I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You could never embarrass me. You’re the most beautiful woman at this theatre and in this whole bloody city. And I’m the luckiest man alive to have you on my arm tonight.”

A pretty blush stains her cheeks at my words, and I can’t resist brushing my thumb across the heated skin, marveling at its softness. I want to touch her more, to cup her nape and pull her in for a mind-numbing kiss.

But I refuse.

The vultures surrounding us can piss off before I allow them to capture such an intimate shot. Her eyes heavy-lidded and lips swollen from my bruising kiss is a sight I won’t share—except maybe on our wedding day.

“Promise?”

Her unsureness makes my chest ache.

“On both my life and my mum’s grave.”

“Okay.” Smiling sweetly, she ducks her head before looking back up. “Then take me inside, handsome.” She points up at the sky with her small bag. “Because it looks like rain’s coming. And I really don’t want to sit through an entire show soaking wet.”

I smirk and open my mouth to speak.

She quickly stops me, pressing a finger to my grinning lips. “Keep your filthy words to yourself,” she whispers, ensuring no one else can hear. “For now, at least. Later though? Game on.”

Encircling her wrist, I pull her finger away and kiss her palm before placing her hand back on my arm. “As you wish.”

I wink, before leading her fully inside.

Once at our box, we settle inside, the velvet seats plush and inviting against my Brioni tuxedo as Mark takes up his post outside the door, ever watchful and vigilant.

Needing to touch her, I help Sadie arrange the skirt of her dress so it doesn’t wrinkle, my fingers skimming the smooth expanse of her thigh, exposed by that blasted slit. She shivers at my touch, her eyes darkening with unmistakable desire.

Before I can act on the sudden urge to trace the split fabric higher, until I feel the heat of her pussy through the thin barrier of her knickers, a familiar voice interrupts us.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man of the hour himself.”

I glance up, unsurprised to see Grant lounging in the doorway, a smirk playing about his lips. I admit, the wanker looks dashing in his tailored tux, every inch the debonair American playboy.

“I wasn’t aware you were still in town.” To my recollection, he was scheduled to leave for the States early this morning. “Don’t you have some starlet to seduce in Los Angeles before the mergers begin next week?”

“And miss the chance to meet the woman who’s finally snared London’s most elusive bachelor, creating a whole lot of uproar in London’s upper crust?” He glances at Sadie, his grin widening. “Not a chance in hell, Kensington.”

Sadie laughs, the sound warm and rich, and extends her hand, all proper and polite. “Sadie Winslow. Nice to meet you...”

“Grant Prescott, at your service.” The arsehole bows over her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. He’s just fucking about but I still want to take his head off for touching her. Much less pressing his lips to skin that isn’t his to touch or taste. “Your accent is music to my ears, darlin’. Georgia peach, if I’m not mistaken?”

She beams, clearly charmed and further pushing me to the brink of madness and murder. I’d hate to have to kill my best mate, disposing of his body in the Thames.

But if he keeps it up...

“Good ear,” she replies, her Southern drawl one of the most mesmerizing sounds I’ve ever heard. “Born and raised in Garrison, about an hour outside Atlanta.”

“No kidding?” Releasing her hand, he crosses his arms. “I’m a Charleston boy myself. Spent my summers on Pawleys Island, chasing crabs and pretty girls.”

I clear my throat, narrowing my eyes at him in silent warning. The tosser just smirks, unrepentant as ever. He’s clearly enjoying making my blood pressure rise.

“Say, Sadie, you wouldn’t happen to have a sister, would you? Or a cousin, perhaps?”

He must be taking the piss. It’s the only explanation for such a question. If he thinks I’ll allow Sadie to find his next passing fancy for him, he has another think coming.

She laughs again, shaking her head. “Only one cousin of age, Lillian. But she’s technically my cousin-in-law, in addition to being married and pregnant, so I’m afraid you’re slap out of luck.”

He clutches his chest in mock despair. “Married, you say? That’s a damn crying shame. I don’t mind buying diapers and formula, but I draw the line at husbands.”

Sadie giggles, the sound soft and feminine, as I work to stop the roll of my eyes, fighting a smile of my own. “Bugger off, Grant. Go and find your own date to pester.”

He winks at Sadie again, the cheeky bastard. “I can take a hint. You kids have fun, now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” With a final salute, he saunters off, hands in his pockets, whistling some tune.

Sadie turns to me, her eyes sparkling. “I like him. He’s funny.”

“He’s a pain in the arse. Mine in particular.” There’s no heat behind my grumbled words. “But yes, he has his moments. And if you decide to stay, love, you’ll be seeing a lot more of him. Not only is he my long-time business partner, but he’s also my best mate. God help me.”

“Stay.” Her smile softens, turning wistful. “I’m beginning to like the sound of that.”

Before I can respond, the lights dim and the orchestra begins swelling. As the curtain rises on the glittering world of Moulin Rouge, I find myself watching Sadie more than the stage, captivated by the play of emotions that flicker across her expressive face.

Time passes so quickly.

Enamored with her, I easily lose track of it.

Before I can blink, intermission arrives and a royal box waiter appears with a tray of crystal flutes filled with vintage Dom Pérignon and chocolate-dipped strawberries, identical to the ones we enjoyed earlier in the day.

As Sadie bites into a berry, the undoubtedly tart sweetness mingling with the rich decadence of the champagne on her tongue, a drop of juice escapes, trailing down her chin.

Reacting on instinct, I lean in, capturing the errant drop with my thumb. Her breath hitches as I bring it to my mouth, licking it clean, my eyes never leaving hers.

“Delicious, but not nearly as sweet as you.”

She inhales swiftly, her gaze dropping to my lips. “You can’t just go around saying things like that. At least, not without kissing me—”

I close the distance between us, brushing my lips against hers in a kiss that’s softer than any we’ve shared. She sighs against me, her fingers coming up to toy with the hair at my nape, sending sparks of electricity skittering down my spine.

It takes every ounce of my control to keep the kiss chaste, mindful of our semi-public setting. When I pull back, her eyes are glazed over, her lips swollen.

Just as they are each time.

“I can’t thank you enough for last night and today.” Her fingers remain tangled in my hair as she holds me close, not that I’d try to pull away. “For everything, really. You’ve been amazing. I never thought I could feel like this, not after Maxwell...”

I slide her hand from my hair and pull her closer, tucking her into my side. “You never have to thank me. Being with you, seeing you smile, it’s the greatest gift I could ask for. And as for that tosser who hurt you...”

I tighten my grip on her waist, fighting back a surge of rage. “As I’ve said before, he never deserved you. Because you, my beautiful belle, deserve the world.” I push a stray lock of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “And I intend to give it to you.”

Tears shimmer in her eyes, but the smile that curves her lips is utterly blinding. “Want to know something?” She doesn’t give me the chance to respond. “Hearing his name, thinking about what he did, it suddenly doesn’t hurt like it used to. And I think that’s because of you, Rhys. Because of how you make me feel. Like I’m special. Cherished, even.”

“That’s because you are.” I pinch her chin, keeping her stare locked with mine. “You’re so incredibly special, Sadie. And I’ll spend every day we have together making sure you never forget it.”

One last kiss is all I get in.

To my disappointment, the lights dim, signaling the end of intermission. And just as before, the rest of the show passes in a blur of color and song, but I scarcely notice.

As I’m becoming accustomed to being, I remain lost in Sadie, in the way she mouths along to the heart-wrenching lyrics of the final number, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Christ, how Mum would have loved her.

As the cast takes their bows and the audience rises to their feet in thunderous applause, I stay seated, content to simply watch her, to bask in her happiness.

Happiness I put there.

With my gaze remaining on her, I make a silent promise—to myself, to her. I’ll do everything in my power to keep that look on her face, that brightness shining in her eyes.

No matter what it takes or how hard I must fight, one day, I’ll make Sadie Winslow my wife, along with the mother of my children, giving her the happily ever after she’s always deserved.

There’s no other acceptable outcome.