Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Pippa
We don’t even make it to the bedroom. He rips my clothes off and takes me on the long white marble table in the breakfast room. The sex is fast, furious, and thrilling. There is almost a desperate quality to it.
“Food. I need food,” I whisper afterwards.
Rhett opens both doors of the fridge, gazes at the contents inside for a few seconds, then closes the doors. “Let’s have lunch out. There’s a lovely little restaurant a five-minute walk away. I think you’ll like it. Afterwards, we could spend a bit of time on the beach if you want.”
“Let’s go,” I say.
I run upstairs and change into my swimsuit, then put my clothes back on over the top of it.
I add a large towel and a bottle of sunscreen to my cross bag.
Rhett appears in the doorway to see if I’m ready, and he looks even hotter than he did earlier, if that’s even possible.
He’s wearing a white polo shirt and navy-blue shorts.
He has a pair of sunglasses on his head and a towel slung over one shoulder.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice to come out even right then. I follow him down the stairs, and once out in the bright sunshine, we walk along the row of beachfront mansions.
I pay more attention to them now that I am on foot, and I see pools, tennis courts, the works.
I still can’t believe that people not only live like this, but these aren’t even their real houses.
They are just their holiday homes. We reach the end of the row of homes and come to an open stretch of beach.
The rest of the beach has been quite deserted, but here, it is fairly busy, lots of people lying about on the sand and swimming in the sea.
“This bit is a public beach,” Rhett explains. “The rest is private. Rach home has their own strip of private beach.”
The sun is higher now, painting the sky a pale, flawless blue, and the air carries the faint scent of salt, seaweed, and sunscreen.
It’s the smell of vacations, of long, lazy days and endless possibilities.
The day already feels impossibly perfect as we arrive outside of the little beachside restaurant.
Rhett holds the door. “Come on, before the sun robs us of the good table.”
My sandals crunch on the boardwalk planks as we leave the interior and walk out onto the terrace, where a waiter materializes from nowhere and pulls a chair out for me with a flourish.
The restaurant is small and ultra-modern, the sort of place that screams Instagrammable. It is definitely a Hamptons-style place. Each of the glass tables has its own chic black umbrella, and hand-painted signs advertise craft beers and fresh seafood.
“Don’t be put off by the décor,” Rhett says, as though he’s reading my mind. “The food is genuinely good, and it’s not those tiny artistic portions that leave you hungry.”
I grin at him and decide to trust his judgement and the mouthwatering smell of grilled fish that is drifting lazily across the sand.
“So what’s good?” I ask, picking up the menu and scanning the options.
Rhett leans back in his chair, his eyes crinkling in the sun. “How hungry are you?”
“Starving.”
“The lobster roll is excellent, though the fish tacos are not to be missed either. Why not have both?”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ll make me fat.”
He shrugs. “Eat less tomorrow. Life is way too short not to have everything you want at a beach restaurant.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Fine, I’ll live dangerously. Lobster roll and fish tacos it is.”
We order, and the server hustles off, leaving us with the soft hum of conversation, the occasional cry of seagulls, and the gentle slap of waves in the distance.
I let myself relax into the moment, leaning back in the chair, feeling the sun warm my shoulders, and stealing glances at Rhett.
He looks impossibly handsome in the sunlight.
By the time our lunch arrives, my stomach is growling.
We dig in, laughing as Rhett steals a bite off my plate, insisting it’s a professional obligation to make sure it’s up to standard.
I pretend to roll my eyes and scold him, but I’m secretly enjoying the closeness, the easy intimacy that has settled between us.
“I can see why you brought me here,” I say between mouthfuls, savoring the crunch of the fresh cabbage in my tacos. “It’s definitely not the style-over-substance place I thought it was going to be.”
He leans across the table and picks up his glass of Campari. “I never go for style over substance. I got the impression you were the same.”
I nod, my eyes softening, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in my chest. “I am, and it’s really nice here.”
Lunch winds down.
Rhett settles the bill, and we stroll along the sand toward the beach.
The sun is higher and stronger now, and I can feel the heat on my skin as we lay our towels down side by side.
Rhett removes his T-shirt and lies on the towel, his arms behind his head, his eyes closed.
I take off my clothes and reveal my red bikini.
Rhett opens his eyes and whistles. I laugh and shake my head.
Stretching out in the soft sand next to him instantly makes any last lingering tension in my muscles melt away.
“Ah,” I sigh, letting the warmth of the sun seep into me. “This is heaven.”
“Yeah. Nothing like the sun, the sand, and no one looking.”
I glance over at him, smiling. “No one looking? I saw quite a few pairs of eyes watch you when your T-shirt came off.”
He chuckles softly. “Maybe. But right now, pretend it’s just us, Pippa.”
We lie in companionable silence for a few minutes. There is nothing to be said, just enjoyed. Nothing to feel but the warmth, the breeze, the distant laughter of children playing, the sound of the waves rolling in, the soft hiss of the wind through the dunes.
I don’t want to ruin my holiday by burning my skin.
Sitting up, I open my bag and dig out my sunscreen.
I start applying it, and I can feel Rhett watching me.
I glance over at him and find that he has propped himself up on his elbows and he’s staring at me quite intently as I rub the cream into my legs.
“Don’t mind me,” he says. “I’m just watching the show.”
I shake my head and continue on with the cream. I do my arms, my legs, my belly and chest, and my face and neck. Then I turn to him and to my surprise, my voice drops seductively. “Will you do my back?”
Rhett holds his hand out for it. “Roll over.”
For some weird reason, my mouth goes dry.
I roll over and hear the cap snap open. A second later, the cold lotion and the warmth of Rhett’s hands are on me.
He rubs the cream into my back in slow hypnotic circles.
Then his fingers dip along my sides and I moan quietly as his touch reignites last night’s fire within me.
“Stop that or I will take you right here, right now,” Rhett says in a low voice that makes my sex wet. God he’s hot when he’s commanding.
He carries on rubbing my back, even though we both know the sunscreen has been absorbed a long time ago, but I let him.
Finally, he slaps my ass gently with one hand. “All done,” he says thickly.
I roll back onto my back, and Rhett lies down beside me again. His eyes are closed and his expression is bland so I do not know what he is thinking. I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face, and the light breeze like a lover’s caress across my body.
I’m just starting to relax completely when I hear footsteps crunching over the sand close to us.
I glance up, and my heart sinks when I see Vanessa standing over us wearing a white bikini with a Chanel logo between her breasts and a pair of dangerously high wedges.
Her posture is disdainful, and her expression is that perfected blend of superiority and disdain.
“Fancy seeing the two of you here,” she says.
“Vanessa,” Rhett says, sitting up, his tone polite and measured.
Vanessa glances between us, her lips curling up in a tiny, imperious smile.
“Pippa,” she says, as if acknowledging me is a favor.
Then her gaze slides back to Rhett, lingering in that calculated way she always manages, and I can feel my pulse speed up just slightly. Not that I’m jealous or anything. No, that would be … not allowed. I force myself to sit up, keeping my tone light, breezy, and entirely unflappable.
“Hi, Vanessa,” I say smoothly, deliberately giving her a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes, because honestly, I’m braced for whatever storm she’s about to bring.
Rhett stands up smoothly and nods his head towards a small shack that is selling cans of soda and bottles of water amongst other things.
“I’m going to grab a drink,” he says, his voice calm. “Do you want one, Pippa?”
“No, thanks,” I say, shaking my head.
Vanessa’s gaze slides to me, sharp and appraising, then back to Rhett.
“I’ll have one,” she says.
That means he’s going to have to come back before she leaves. Great.
Rhett nods, the briefest flash of irritation crossing his face, and he’s off, leaving me alone with her. Immediately, the air between us changes. The sun feels a little hotter, the breeze a little colder, and Vanessa’s gaze is sharp like a scalpel.
“Don’t get too comfortable, sweetheart,” she says, her voice low, clipped, and laced with that venomous charm she always manages to wear like perfume. “He’s just using you. He always comes back to me. You think you’re special, but you’re not. He’ll be back, just like he always is.”
I bite my tongue, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. I want to snap, to tell her that she’s delusional, that I’m only out here because Rhett wants nothing to do with her, but I force myself to stay calm. Calm, measured, and untouchable.
“You really think so?” I ask evenly, tilting my head, meeting her gaze without flinching. “What more does he have to do to tell you to fuck off?”
Her eyes narrow with fury. “Rhett is mine. He’s always going to be mine. You’re just a temporary distraction. You think he’s serious about you? Please. Don’t fool yourself.”
Something in me snaps. It’s not anger, not fear, but a sharp, bright need to assert myself. I lean forward slightly, my hands on the towel beside me, and I fix her with a gaze that’s steady and unflinching.
“He’s not yours,” I say firmly. “He’s mine now.”
She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, as though this is some sort of charming little show. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really,” I continue, letting my voice rise slightly with conviction. “You think he’s coming back to you? He’s not. He won’t. Because we just got engaged.”
The words hang in the air like a sudden storm.
Vanessa’s eyes flick around like she doesn’t know where to look, and then she gives me a split-second glance and inhales sharply.
She goes pale, her composure faltering for the briefest instant.
I watch her, feeling a surge of vindication, as her mouth opens then closes, and she says nothing.
I lean back slightly, letting the silence stretch out between us, letting the tide of triumph wash over me.
Vanessa is caught out, for the first time unsure, unprepared, and I savor the mean feeling.
The sun beats down on my shoulders, hot and accusing, but I tell myself I feel stronger for standing my ground, for not letting her intimidate me.
Rhett won’t mind that I lied. Main thing is, I got her off his back. If anything, he should be grateful.
After a long moment, she looks away, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unsure what to say.
I don’t offer her any words, I don’t gloat, and I don’t revel beyond what’s necessary.
The message is clear; I’m here. I’m serious.
I’m not someone who’s going to step aside.
I’m playing my part in our deal, but it feels like more than that.
I hate to admit it, but it actually feels almost like I am protecting what is mine.
“So,” Vanessa says, her tone casual, but her eyes full of wicked glee. “If you got engaged, where’s the ring?”
She’s got me there. Rhett isn’t exactly someone who couldn’t afford a ring, and I flounder, wondering what the hell I am going to say now. I can’t back track – that would be too tragic, but she’s really got me here.
“It’s umm …”