18. Sadie
I’m rooted firmlyin contentment.
Standing alone in the penthouse’s kitchen, my hip leaned against the onyx countertop, I’m busy savoring an overflowing plate of biscuits and gravy, a little taste of Georgia in the heart of London, when I realize my defenses are quickly falling.
Rhys having Theo, one of his two private chefs, make me one of my all-time comfort foods, even though I’ve learned biscuits mean something else entirely in England, is yet another sledgehammer to the crumbling walls that remain, surrounding my healing heart.
The way he always thinks of me...
If his mama were still alive, I’d hug her so hard she’d never forget the feel of my arms around her, for raising such an amazing—in every way imaginable—son.
No doubt, she’s smiling down at him.
As she should be.
Across the penthouse’s open concept, Rhys paces on the balcony, his phone pressed to his ear as he conducts a heated business call. I have no idea who is on the other end of the line but I almost feel sorry for them.
Because he looks pissed.
But even when he’s clearly mad and in cutthroat CEO-mode, I could watch him for hours. The fluid way he moves, the play of muscles beneath his crisp dress shirt, the timbre of his rich baritone—everything about Rhys Kensington commands attention.
How on earth I snagged his focus...
The high pitch ring of my phone suddenly echoes through the room, startling me from my thoughts. Remembering the FaceTime fiasco with Rhys—even though this is just a regular call, not a video one—I check the number flashing across the screen carefully after pulling my phone from my pocket.
Only, I don’t recognize the number.
It’s a Garrison number though. Papaw maybe? Lord knows he likes calling me from random places like the barber shop or post office just to keep me on my toes.
I swipe to answer, then put it on speaker.
“Hello?”
Instant regret hits me. Hard.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my runaway fiancée.”
Ice floods my veins, my stomach plummeting all the way to the tips of my toes. Maxwell. Oh God. I should’ve known the two-timing snake would slither out of the woodwork the moment Tasha told me about Rhys and I being the talk of Garrison.
Back home, juicy gossip spreads faster than a fresh batch of Papaw’s peach-infused white lightning. And clearly, Maxwell’s heard all about it.
Courtesy of Cornelia, no doubt.
“What do you want, Maxwell?” I grip the edge of the counter with a shaky hand, my knuckles bleaching. “I’m a little too busy living my best life to deal with the likes of you.”
He chuckles coldly.
“Now, is that any way to talk to your first and only love?” His smarmy drawl drips with manufactured contrition, raising my hackles and making my belly roil. “I know I did you wrong, Sadiebug. But you and me, we’re destiny.” He’s lost his absolute mind! “This Richie Rich you’re slutting it up around London with isn’t anything but—”
To my disdain, tears sting my eyes.
The downright audacity of him.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I deserve some kind of award for keeping my voice steady and dripping with saccharine sweetness. “I must’ve heard you wrong. Did you just call me a slut? Because I could’ve sworn you were the one who got caught screwing my best friend on our wedding day. If you want to call anyone such a derogatory name, why don’t you take a long hard look in the nearest mirror?”
Pure silence.
Then, “Cute. Real cute.” His sneer is audible. “You’ve had your little revenge fuck, shown the town you’ve still got it. Now come back home where you belong so I can put my ring back on your finger.” Absolutely not. “Besides, we both know the truth, Sadie.”
I shouldn’t ask, I truly shouldn’t.
But I stupidly do.
“Yeah? And what truth is that?”
Again, he chuckles darkly.
“The one where guys like that don’t fall for small-town hicks like you.”
Hick? I think not.
Besides, has Maxwell forgotten he’s from the same town as me? If I’m a hick, then what’s that make him? He’s such a frickin’ fool!
“You’re just a curiosity to him, a backwoods belle he can screw for sport before he goes back to his real life, fucking supermodels and centerfolds.” Again, he chuckles. “You really think he’d pick you over them? I loved you and still chose to fuck Vanessa when you fell short. Let that sink in.”
His cruel words hit their mark, burrowing deep into my insecurities and reawakening demons Rhys’s sweet words and hunger for me had put to sleep.
“You don’t know the first thing about Rhys. Or me, for that matter. Not anymore.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, princess.” I can practically see his smug, crap-eating grin. “I know every sordid inch of you, inside and out. And deep down, you’re still that little girl who’s terrified of being abandoned. Again.”
How is it possible to hate someone you once loved?
I don’t know the answer, but right now, at this very moment, I hate Maxwell Beaumont with every ounce of my being and every shard of my heart.
“Hate to break it to you, but Prince Charming isn’t your happily ever after. He’s just another deadbeat who’ll toss you aside like yesterday’s trash. Just like your mama and daddy did when they left—”
I’m saved from his poisonous diatribe by a large hand plucking the phone from my white-knuckled grip. I whirl around, my chin wobbling and chest aching from holding back sobs, to find Rhys, his handsome face hard enough to cut diamonds, his eyes glittering with unmissable malice.
Clearly, he heard everything.
And if I thought he looked angry before...
“Listen closely, you sniveling sack of shite,” he growls into the phone, his deep voice dripping with barely leashed rage. “Sadie is so bloody far out of your league, you’re not even worthy to breathe the same air as her, let alone speak her goddamn name.”
His grip on my phone tightens, the plastic creaking under the force of his anger. He clenches his teeth as the tendons in his neck strain and a muscle tics in his jaw.
“She’s a goddess among women, and you?” His laugh is mirthless. “You’re nothing but a pissant worm beneath her feet. You had the chance to worship her like the queen she is, and you blew it. Now she’s mine, and I protect what’s mine with ruthless fucking efficiency.”
There’s no mistaking the lethal intent in his tone, the icy calm that vows untold destruction. It sends a shiver down my spine, a primal reminder this man is as dangerous as he is beautiful.
“If you ever dare to contact her again, if you so much as whisper her beautiful name in your sleep, I will end you. I will raze your miserable fucking life to the ground and salt the earth with the ashes of your ruin. I will bury you in so much litigation and financial devastation that your daddy’s law firm won’t be able to save you, making chucking yourself off the nearest bridge seem like a mercy.”
He pauses, letting the brutal promise sink in, each word blazing with a ferocious protectiveness that steals my breath from my lungs, yet also heals more of my broken pieces.
Take that, Maxwell!
“You and that trollop carrying your child are dead to her, Beaumont. Less than smears of dog shite on the bottom of her shoe.” I nearly laugh. “If you possess even a shred of self-preservation, you’ll crawl back under whatever festering rock you slithered out of and pray I forget you exist.”
His lips curl into a sneer.
Cruel and taunting.
“Because if I ever discover you’ve caused Sadie even a moment’s worth of distress again, there’s no end to the creative ways I’ll make you suffer. Am I making myself crystal bloody clear?”
There’s a strangled response I can’t decipher, Maxwell’s arrogance crumbling in the face of Rhys’s fury. But Rhys, he understands whatever my jackass ex said just fine.
“Excellent. Now fuck off and choke, you worthless prick. I’ve got better things to do than waste another second on a limp-dicked wankstain like you.”
He ends the call and sets the phone down with exaggerated care, his movements tightly leashed. When he turns to me, the ice in his expression melts into pure, tender concern.
“Come here, love.”
I go to him, closing the small space between us without hesitation, burrowing into his solid warmth as a shuddering sob wracks my frame. He hugs me close, one large hand cradling the back of my head while the other strokes soothing patterns on my spine.
“I’ve got you, beautiful.” His lips brush my temple. “Just as I’ve told you before and will never stop reminding you—you’re safe with me. Always. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt it.”
I press impossibly closer, his scent enveloping me like a protective shield. But even as I lose myself in his fierce devotion, Maxwell’s well-aimed venom continues to fester, unearthing every fear.
Every insecurity.
Rhys feels the tension in my body and pulls back, his fingers curling under my chin to tilt my tear-streaked face to his. The raw adoration in his eyes sears through me, branding me to my bones.
“There’s something I need you to see.” Gently, as if I’m made of glass, he sweeps a thumb across my face, wiping away the tears clinging to my lashes. “A place that holds a piece of my heart. A place that will show you, irrefutably, what you mean to me.”
With Maxwell’s voice still echoing in my head, unease ripples through me, but I nod. Because even with the doubts assailing me, I’m helpless to refuse him anything.
He’s my kryptonite.
Twining his fingers with mine, he guides me toward the door, his touch infinitely gentle. I don’t ask questions when we cross the threshold, because even after being knocked for a loop, one truth resonates in my heart, as if my soul itself is speaking it.
I want to belong to Rhys Kensington.
In body, mind, and spirit.
Even if falling for him destroys me.