Chapter Thirty-Three
Max
Damn the man.
Rhys left me wet and unfulfilled. The sensitive flesh between my legs is so swollen and slick, visiting the ladies’ room to wipe down and replace my underwear doesn’t help much.
Every time I move and there’s even the slightest bit of friction against my nipples from the bra, hot sparks race down to my throbbing clit.
Meanwhile, he looks unperturbed, smiling at Danica. If I hadn’t felt his erection in the dressing room, I might think he was immune to me. Part of me wants to do something to rip him out of his calm little bubble, but rationality says there are people watching.
He signs off on the invoice, and Danica smiles.
“Thanks for your help,” I say.
“My pleasure. Do come again. You’re very rewarding to dress.”
And undress, Rhys mouths behind her.
I ignore him and smile at her. “Your clothes make me feel like a star.” The cerulean number I’m wearing now accentuates my curves, and I love the color, much more than the basic black outfit from the morning.
Angelo takes all the glossy bags, holding ten in each beefy hand, and goes to the car. Rhys and I turn to leave.
“To the office?” I ask as we exit the building.
“No. Home.”
I check the time. “It’s only six.”
“Time for dinner. I’m starving.” The look he gives me is full of hunger.
My mouth dries. Excitement shivers through me at the idea that I’m going to be the dinner. “I—”
“Hot damn. Are you finally spending money on a woman?”
Rhys stiffens. It’s Auric, in a well-tailored white dress shirt with several buttons undone, a beige sports jacket and slacks in the same shade. The croc-skin shoes are scuff-free, although they don’t look new.
“What are you doing here?” Rhys asks flatly.
“What I do best. Treating my girl while getting some happy time.” Auric grins and pulls his shirt slightly aside to show off a fresh hickey mark on his upper chest. A brunette who couldn’t be more than twenty clings to his arm with a solar-level smile.
Her purple dress is so tight, she probably needed to be greased to get into it.
She gazes up at him adoringly, her long, dark hair disheveled as though somebody thrust his fingers into the mane. It’s obvious what they’ve been doing.
I shake my head a little at his ridiculous pride. I hope he’s smart enough to know she’s only with him for money.
Every muscle on Rhys’s body tenses as he glares at his father, then steals a quick glance at me. I give him a minimal shrug. There’s nothing I can say about the situation. It’s his father. Auric doesn’t seem to understand words like “maturity,” “dignity” or “class.”
“You should do it more often,” Auric says, giving me a sly look.
He slaps Rhys’s shoulder with a laugh, oblivious to the tension.
“Keeps you young—and life interesting.” He turns to me.
“Max, darling, make sure you get some nice stuff out of this son of mine. He can afford it, and it’s the least you deserve. ”
“Shut up, Dad,” Rhys grinds out.
“Show some respect.” Auric’s tone lacks heat. “I’m just trying to help. You’ve got to treat a woman right, occasionally spoil her, even. Like me.”
Rhys’s knuckles whiten as he clenches his hands.
Time to defuse the situation.
But before I can speak, Auric’s brunette whines. “Daddykins, I just realized I don’t have any shoes to go with the Dior dress for tonight’s date!”
He pats her head. “Well, we can’t have that! Let’s go in.”
He disappears into the boutique, and one of Danica’s assistants leads them farther inside. Rhys’s jaw flexes, his cheeks blotchy. He’s always like this when he has to face his father, but who could blame him?
His eyes flick in my direction, and whatever he sees makes the light in his eyes dim. Damn Auric. I hate it that running into him and his tart du jour has ruined our nice, flirty mood. I start to reach out to comfort him.
“Oh, don’t tell me! Rhys?”
What now? I turn my head.
“Selena?” he says with a mix of surprise and guardedness, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of relief and affection as well.
A blonde with sky-blue eyes runs toward us—then wraps her arms around Rhys. The tight red ruched dress leaves nothing to the imagination, showing off her abundant breasts, flaring pelvis and long, shapely legs. Her narrow feet are in strappy silver stilettos.
Suddenly I question the wisdom of buying a pair myself. Should I return them?
Smiling, the woman places air kisses on each of his cheeks. My left eyebrow twitches. This Selena sounds British with a giant stick up her butt, and what’s up with the fervent air kisses? If I weren’t here, would she be planting her mouth on his?
The idea twists my gut. Who the hell is she? What makes her think she can lay her paws on Rhys? Most importantly, why is he letting her? He should’ve pushed her away, not look at her like she’s some kind of youthful dream lost.
The sight of Selena wrapped around Rhys superimposes over the image of Lily draping herself all over Trevor every time he deigned to drop by Mom’s flower shop, making my chest ache.
Not that I think Rhys would give me an encore of that with this blonde, but the old wound digs into me anyway, stirring up long-buried pain, fury and insecurity.
“Just imagine running into you here!” She’s still not pulling away. Although her arms aren’t wrapped around him anymore, her hands are gliding down his biceps and forearms, copping a feel.
Bitch.
She continues breathlessly, trying to hold his hands. “What with being single again these days, I’m back at work, writing for an art magazine.”
Nobody asked you.
Rhys shoves his hands into his pockets—finally!—and makes a sympathetic noise. “I heard about your divorce. How are you holding up?”
“Well, you know… Same old, same old. How long has it been?” she asks with a silly-me-I-can’t-recall grin, which I guess could look charming if the other party were a brainless man. I glance at Rhys. His face is even more closed off now.
“Fourteen years,” he says.
Has he been counting?
She sighs softly. “So long. We were so young.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve still got a dashing sense of style, I see.” She runs a hand down his tie, then straightens his already-straight lapels.
He brushes away her touch, his movements too gentle for my liking. Does he care about saving her face and not upsetting me at the same time? What if he has to choose one or the other?
He doesn’t seem to realize my turmoil as he shifts toward me. “By the way, this is Max, my—”
“Girlfriend,” I interject in a frosty voice, then extend a hand.
“Oh.” The eyebrows shoot up as she turns her head to the side, but I don’t buy that act. Nothing about this woman sits right with me. “I’m Selena Chesterfield.” She announces her name like I should know, and further respect, it.
My unblinking eyes on hers, I grip her hand with more force than necessary and pump twice—hard. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”
Something like surprise and aggravation flash in her eyes before she quickly lowers them. She turns to Rhys again with a smile. “Didn’t you just have your heart broken by Gabriella Ricci? Seems a bit soon for a replacement.”
Rhys gives me a puzzled look, and I shrug. “Gabriella claims she dumped you, and you’d better not argue about it.”
He exhales, eyes rolling heavenward. “As if.”
Selena’s expression flickers with uncertainty tinged with anxiety. “Don’t tell me you dumped Gabriella for her?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Max is worth a thousand Gabriellas,” he says in the same matter-of-fact tone he uses with his business partners.
“But…” She bites her lip, her eyes shifting.
“But…?” I prompt her with a smile more fake than my relationship with Rhys. “I’m dying to know what you think.”
Selena shoots Rhys a quick, pleading look. He merely stands beside me without offering a single word to smooth over the awkward tension. Finally, she forces an awkward smile. “Well. I’m just a bit surprised. Wondering if you had a chance to meet his family yet, and all that.”
Rhys’s jaw hardens, and he flicks his eyes at me, searching for my reaction. I merely purse my lips.
She continues smoothly, “Don’t mean anything by it.”
“Sure you don’t,” I mutter.
Rhys starts to turn toward me, but Selena begins to speak, stopping him.
“Anyway, it was nice catching up with you, Rhys,” she says, treating me as though I’m beneath notice. “I’ll see you around. I’m writing a profile on your grandmother, and might need to interview the family as well.” She shoots me a look tinged with smugness. “He’s a good man. Take care of him.”
She then says hello to Danica, who’s been standing patiently a discreet distance away, and disappears inside.
I glare at Selena’s back. I hate everything about her, from the pompous, obnoxious accent to her awful condescension.
She’s lucky I have enough class not to start dragging her around by her hair.
Rhys starts to put his hand on my back, and I step away.
“What’s wrong?”