Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Pippa
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and adjust the strap of my dress for what must be the tenth time.
It’s one of those outfits that toes the line between classy and dangerous, a midnight blue cocktail dress that clings like liquid against my skin.
The neckline is modest enough to appease the sophisticated part of me, but the back plunges scandalously low, revealing more skin than I’d usually show.
Silver strappy heels with little diamantes add the final touch, catching the light each time I shift my weight.
My hair is down and brushing my shoulders tonight, and my makeup is bolder than normal: smoky eyes and berry red lips.
I think I look good. Maybe even better than good.
I hope I look like the kind of woman George will regret letting go.
That thought warms me for exactly two seconds before a pang of nerves sets in.
I start pacing the floor of my apartment.
The clock ticks slowly toward seven o’clock. Rhett will be here any minute, and I’ll have myself all worked up at this rate. I need a distraction. I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts. My thumb hovering over Lucy’s name. Should I? I hit dial. Lucy picks up on the third ring.
“Tell me that you’re wearing something fabulous,” she says, skipping the hello.
I glance at the mirror again before I leave the bedroom and head to the living room. “I think so. I’m wearing my midnight blue dress, you know, the backless one. And the silver heels that Mom gave me last Christmas.”
Lucy lets out a whistle. “The whole shebang, then.”
“Well, I had to pull out all the stops. This might be my last chance.”
“Girl, he’s going to fall at your feet. And by he, I don’t mean George. I mean, George probably will too, but he’s not the important one.”
I sink onto the sofa and twist a strand of hair around my finger. “About that. I … er … kissed Rhett.”
The shriek nearly bursts my eardrum. “You what? When? How? Tell me everything.”
I lower my voice instinctively, though no one else is here.
“It happened at the opera. Before the curtain went up. He just … he just kissed me out of nowhere. And Lucy, it wasn’t just any old kiss.
It was like he was Clarke Gable and I was Vivian Leigh from Gone with the Wind.
I almost swooned. I barely saw the first act because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. ”
“Oh my God, Pippa,” Lucy exclaims, her voice high-pitched and excited. She sounds almost giddy, like she’s unwrapping Christmas presents rather than a bit of gossip. “So, it’s real then? This chemistry thing you kept pretending wasn’t real?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No. It’s not real. It’s new. That’s all. Everyone knows Americans are better kissers, but lust doesn’t last. George is my constant. He’s dependable, he’s … he’s my soulmate.”
Lucy groans. “Your soulmate who is currently dating braless Claudia of the Emerald-Gown? Babe, if you had Rhett in your life, it would be a case of George who? Trust me. Stop pining after the ghost of relationships past.”
I can’t help laughing, even as I shake my head. “You just don’t get it. Aside from anything, Rhett isn’t into me. It’s just a mutually beneficial thing. He kissed me to make George jealous.”
“Whatever,” Lucy says, and I can see her rolling her eyes in my mind’s eye. “Go to that party, look incredible, and if Rhett kisses you again, kiss him back. Hard. After all, you’ve got American blood in you too. Didn’t you have an ancestor who was briefly married to an American?”
The door buzzer interrupts her pep talk. My stomach flips. “Rhett is here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You’d better,” she says. “And remember, if he kisses you, kiss him back as hard as you can.”
I am still laughing as I hang up. I grab my clutch bag, drop my phone into it, and head downstairs.
Rhett looks maddeningly good in his charcoal grey suit.
The smooth fabric has been tailored to within an inch of perfection around his physique.
He has left the top button of his crisp white shirt undone, revealing a tantalizing triangle of tanned skin.
So unfair, how effortlessly easy it is for men to look sexy.
He holds out his hand like we’re in a scene from a classy black-and-white movie.
“You look devastating,” he says, his eyes gliding slowly over me. “George doesn’t stand a chance.”
Heat floods my cheeks, though I brush past it. “Flattery noted. Let’s get this over with.”
Rhett nods, and we get into the car and set off.
Although I am looking forward to seeing George again, I can’t say I am exactly thrilled at the thought of being in Claudia’s home.
It feels … wrong. Icky somehow. But I’ve agreed to it now, and we’re almost there.
Anyway, it’s a bit late to change my mind, although I’m sure if I did, Rhett would be fine with it.
We pull up outside the address Claudia gave Rhett. It’s a white stucco townhouse in one of those London postcodes that makes your bank account cry just by glancing at it.
“Ready to enter the lion’s den?” Rhett asks, one eyebrow raised.
I square my shoulders. “I guess so.”
He gazes at me with an unreadable expression, then nods, and reaches for the door handle.
We get out of the car and head up to the front door.
My stomach starts churning as Rhett rings the bell.
And now it really is too late to change my mind.
A smiling man opens the door and then steps back to let us in.
Claudia’s house is everything I expected it to be – she looks like money, and her house reflects that.
The décor is sleek and curated; all glass and chrome furnishings, and dotted throughout with oversized art pieces that probably cost more than my entire apartment. The living room glows under soft lighting. It is filled with the scent of expensive candles and the hum of polite conversation.
Guests swirl in clusters, drink of choice in their hands, and the sound of laughter bounces off the high ceilings.
Claudia spots us almost immediately and glides over, her arms outstretched like she is welcoming two old friends rather than two virtual strangers.
Tonight, she is draped in red silk instead of green.
“Pippa, Rhett. It’s so great to see you both. I’m so glad you could make it,” she says.
Rhett hands her the bottle of wine he brought. “A little something for your cellar.”
Her smile is wide, but her eyes dart to him with laser precision.
“You’re too kind. Now, come, I need to steal you for a moment to ask your advice on a problem I keep encountering in my software.
I know you’ve just gotten here, but I want to pick your brains before I get too drunk,” she says with a laugh.
Rhett looks at me with a questioning expression, and smile and nod. “Go ahead. I’ll wander around and admire the paintings.”
And just like that, our host hooks her skinny arm through Rhett’s and whisks him away, leaving me marooned by the hors d’oeuvres table. I reach for a canapé, trying not to look abandoned, when a familiar voice slips into the space beside me.
“Pippa.”
It’s George. Nerves sizzle inside of me as I turn to face him. My little heart skips a beat despite myself. He looks good, as always, but there’s a tension around his eyes tonight, a strain that wasn’t there at the opera.
“George,” I say smoothly. I nibble my canapé as if I haven’t been waiting for this moment all day. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” he says testily. He shoves a hand into his pocket, shifting closer. “Pippa, I … Claudia is … well, she’s Claudia. And she’s great. But seeing you here … it’s confusing. You look incredible, and it’s like … I don’t know what I want anymore. You or her.”
The words hit me like a jolt. My stomach twists, hope surging dangerously.
This is it. This is the start of him coming back to me.
I just have to nudge him in the right direction, make him see that I am better for him than blonde Claudia.
But before I can say anything, a warm hand closes around mine.
“Darling,” Rhett says, materializing at my side, his eyes flicking briefly to George before pinning me with a smile. “Let’s go and grab a drink.”
I barely manage a protest before he’s leading me across the open space in the middle of the room, where a few couples sway lazily to the music.
We head into the kitchen, where several of Claudia’s friends are talking to each other.
He pours us both a glass of white wine and hands one to me.
As I take a sip, one of the women in the group screeches and announces she loves this song.
She and her friends rush through to the lounge, leaving Rhett and me alone in the kitchen.
“What were you doing back there? George was just starting to come around,” I whisper fiercely. I am angry, but I can’t be yelling. Not here.
Rhett leans down, his lips brushing my ear as he responds. “Trust me. He needs to pine. To suffer. His capitulation must be total.”
“Capitulation?” I arch a brow. “This isn’t a medieval siege.”
“Isn’t it?” His grin is wicked. “You want him to beg. Anything less and he’ll keep running back and forth, never fully choosing. He has to feel what it’s like to really lose you.”
I’m not sure I agree, but the conviction in his voice is oddly reassuring. And for now, I decide to go with it, because what else can I do? Go and throw myself at George’s feet like a prized offering, because I’m pretty sure I’ve done that already, and been roundly rejected.
So… we drink, we laugh.
And as the night goes on, we dance.
Rhett is an easy partner, confident without being overbearing, his hand steady at my waist, his smile seductive.
Somewhere between the third and fourth glass of wine as we spin around the dance floor, which is Claudia’s spacious lounge with the furniture pushed to the sides, I realize I haven’t thought about George in half an hour.
Not once. And I don’t think I would be thinking of him now if it wasn’t for the fact that I can see him approaching us.
He reaches us, his face taut, and he asks Rhett if he can cut in.
I’m startled by a tiny twinge of disappointment when Rhett steps back with a stiff nod.
George pulls me close, his palm warm against my back, the masculine scent of his cologne achingly familiar.
“Pippa, I meant what I said. I’m … confused. I can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe we should …”
“No.” The word slips out before I can soften it. I hear Rhett’s earlier advice echoing in my head, and I run with it. “Actually, I can’t. I’m going to New York next weekend.”
His eyes bulge. “New York?”
“Yes.” I smile sweetly, though on the inside, my pulse is hammering. “I’m going to a wedding with Rhett.”
The flash of hurt that crosses his face is almost too satisfying. For once, I feel like I’m in control. Before the moment can stretch into something more, Rhett returns, his hand warm on my waist.
“Mind if I steal her back?” he asks.
It’s a question, but something in his tone tells me that if George says no, he’s taking me back anyway. George’s jaw ticks, but he steps aside. I think he probably felt the same thing I did, and didn’t want to get his ass handed to him.
Rhett pulls me close again. The music swells, and before I can brace myself, his mouth is on mine once again.
His kiss is softer this time, slower, but that makes it no less devastating.
My lips part instinctively, my heart somersaulting as heat coils low in my belly.
The room, the party, even George, all of it disappears, melting away on an imagined breeze.
There is only Rhett and I, his body steady and consuming, balancing out the way his kiss makes me feel.
Like I’m falling off the edge of an abyss.
When we break apart, I’m breathless. I don’t even bother glancing at George. For the first time tonight, he doesn’t matter. Because at this moment, I only have eyes for Rhett.