Chapter Forty-One
Max
URGENT NOTICE: ENSURE YOU COMPLETE YOUR QUARTERLY REVIEW BY THIS FRIDAY. YOUR COMPLIANCE IS MANDATORY. NO EXCEPTIONS ALLOWED.
I sigh. An email from HR. Oh joy.
And with an all-caps subject line in case anybody’s unclear as to its importance. Someone should tell Kaitlyn there’s a reason her emails often get deleted unread—it’s just that nobody wants to be that someone. She can make your life difficult.
As usual, Rhys asks me to make a reservation at my restaurant of choice for the review. I book a lunch at Bovine Bistro. Only a few blocks from the office, it has some of the best hamburgers and artisan beers in the city, and I’ve been craving a cheeseburger.
Or maybe the baby’s craving it. It could be like our little ritual—to hanker for it together. I wish I could replicate Mom’s recipe. Although the copy she left burned up in the fire, I’ve already tried it a few times, so the steps are familiar.
I have to be missing something for it to not taste like hers, though. Should’ve spent more time with her in the kitchen, learning her secret ingredients. Back then it felt like we had all the time in the world. It’s sad I’ll never taste that homey flavor again.
“Where to for lunch?” Rhys asks around twelve thirty.
“Bovine Bistro.”
“Great choice.” The shield around him crumbles when he looks at me with such tenderness in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.
It suddenly hits me that I’ve seen him smile more often in the last several weeks than the previous three years. And he seems much more relaxed since the auction. Dare I take credit for his happier mood?
Despite our expiration date—which I set, and for which I want to face-palm myself every day—my entire being wants to stay with Rhys forever.
Sometimes he seems to want that too, but doubts linger.
What if I’m only seeing what I want to see?
What if he’s just playing the part of boyfriend to perfection to get back at his grandmother?
Although he showed disdain for her choices, given Sorcha’s attitude and general competence, the candidates must have redeeming qualities.
They probably don’t have fathers who abandoned their families for fortune or “heirs” with penises.
Okay, no negative thoughts. I pick up my purse. “Let’s go. I’m craving a good cheeseburger.”
Rhys’s smile widens. “So am I.”
The elevator to the lobby is packed, but we manage to get on. Standing right behind me, Rhys runs his hand discreetly along the small of my back, his fingers dropping dangerously low.
“We’re at work,” I whisper, my eyes straight ahead.
“But off the clock.” He runs the back of his fingers along the curve of my ass, sending hot shivers along my spine, making my toes curl.
“We’re about to do my quarterly eval.”
“We’ll be back on when we reach Bovine.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly addicted to you,” he whispers into my ear.
I look away, pressing my lips together. This is just a secret moment between us. Doing it in a public space is shockingly thrilling, especially since nobody knows what we’re doing.
True to his word, Rhys stops when the elevator hits the lobby. Everyone spills out.
“Finally! I’ve been waiting for you.”
Jeffrey? I turn. My ex comes at me like a one-legged football player trying to recover a fumble. His hair is disheveled, as though he ran his fingers through it multiple times, but other than that, he’s his usual suave, white-collar professional self.
Rhys tenses next to me. If eyes could attack, Jeffrey’s legs would snap in half. I pat Rhys’s arm—it’s fine, really.
“Why did you block me?” Jeffrey says. “I have things to tell you.”
“You actually have to ask? You’re even dumber than I thought,” Rhys mutters.
“Come on, baby.” Jeffrey reaches out, trying to rest his hands on my shoulders.
Fury sparks in Rhys’s eyes. Before he does something he shouldn’t—like punch Jeffrey in the face, which would be oh so satisfying but ill-advised—I step away from my ex and cross my arms. Rhys positions himself so he’s standing right next to me like an impenetrable wall.
Or a knight guarding a lady he’s pledged his life to.
Either way, it’s awesome to have somebody back me up so unconditionally.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have to work?” I ask coldly. He always said he had a working lunch every time I invited him out.
“Yeah, but this is more important. It’s about my future. I mean, our future.”
“There is no our future. We broke up.”
“Look, baby, let’s not be nasty. I didn’t know, okay?”
I frown at his overly earnest tone. “Know what?”
He isn’t paying attention, so focused on what he wants to say. “It was just a very, very minor indiscretion. Like I told you, Samantha and I are innocent. We didn’t do anything. We ended before things could get serious.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” I snort.
Rhys squeezes my hand, offering silent comfort and support.
Still not listening, Jeffrey adds, “You should’ve cooled off by now.”
“Don’t be clingy. It isn’t attractive.”
“It’s not about being clingy. You never told me you were Trevor Loomer’s daughter and sole heir.”
Must’ve heard about what happened at the auction.
He continues: “It’s not fair. You tricked me into playing around!”
My jaw slackens. “Are you telling me you would’ve stayed faithful if you had known?”
“Obviously, because our relationship would’ve been full of honesty and trust.”
“Yeah, like a trust fund.”
Rhys snorts beside me.
Jeffrey bristles, but doesn’t give up. “My feelings for you are genuine. We deserve another shot at love. I still think about you all the time.”
“Were they genuine when you had a romantic dinner with another woman? Were you thinking about me when you were tonguing another woman’s tonsils?”
“That was a mistake. I already said that. And look”—he indicates Rhys—“you slept with your boss, so we’re totally even.”
“Except I didn’t sleep with Rhys until after we broke up.”
“I don’t believe you.” Jeffrey’s tone is unusually firm.
“Why? Because sleeping around is something every man does with every woman he runs into?” I shake my head. “Keep this up and I’m getting a restraining order.”
“Restraining order? All I’m doing is asking for a chance at redemption. And love.”
Jeffrey should’ve been a writer. He would’ve made a name for himself scripting B-movies.
“You might be better off begging Trevor to adopt you. Maybe you can be the heir he desperately wants. He prefers one with a penis, in case you didn’t know, and the needle between your legs might qualify.
” I drop my eyes to his crotch for a second before shooting him an icy smile.
Rhys chuckles. Jeffrey turns bright red, then takes a big step forward with a glare.
I cock an eyebrow, refusing to cower. Besides, Rhys has my back. “You’re invading my personal space.”
“I won’t let you insult me. Or throw away our chance at happiness. You’ve got to learn to respect your man!”
“Didn’t you hear her?” Rhys’s tone is deadly. “Get lost, weasel.”
Jeffrey turns to Rhys, his teeth bared in frustration. “Stay the fuck away, you asshole! All you got is money anyway. She wouldn’t look at you twice if you were poor.” He jabs his finger against Rhys’s chest, punctuating each statement.
A savage gleam flashes in Rhys’s eyes as he grabs the finger and twists. Then, faster than lightning, his big fist strikes Jeffrey’s face.
Jeffrey drops to his knees with an anguished whine, all the fight draining away. Blood gushes from his nose. Guess he’s never been hit that hard.
I’d almost feel bad if he hadn’t been such a jerk…or shown signs that he’d turn into a stalker.
Rhys rolls his shoulders and inhales mightily. “Mmm. Been wanting to do that for so long.”
“Does it feel as good as you imagined?” I ask.
“Better.”
Still kneeling, Jeffrey garbles something about “bitch” and “asshole.”
I get on my toes and kiss Rhys on the cheek, workplace lobby be damned. “You really are the best.”