2. Pearl #2
"Is there anything else?" I asked sweetly, then looked at my phone, which beeped and saved me from telling him I wanted to rip him a new one. "Layla needs me for a minute before we meet."
Rhett shook his head, looking shocked. I loved seeing that look on his face because he didn't know what was up or down.
I walked out of my office and called out for Rachel, Nina's EA, and Savannah Lace's receptionist. "Rachel, can you take Mr. Vanderbilt to the Jasmine Conference Room?" I smiled at Rhett. "See you in fifteen."
Now, Rhett looked at me speculatively, still unsure about what to make of me. I was an enigma to him. Aunt Hattie had said that I had surprised everyone in Savannah with my arrival. Since returning, I know I was seen with curiosity. I'd heard all the snarky remarks.
"She's the one who used to be overweight."
"Rhett Vanderbilt slept with her?"
"It was a bet, and she gave it away to him. She was a virgin."
"She's gorgeous, so why wouldn't Rhett want to go with her?"
"She used to be fat."
I hated how people felt that I was now acceptable, including my mother, because I'd lost a few pounds at the expense of my health, mental and physical.
The truth was that I hadn't been obese, not even in the least. I had been a size fourteen, which was the average size for women in the United States of America—but in Savannah society, where all the Belles worked hard to fit into designer sample sizes their Mama picked up during Paris and Milan fashion weeks, I stuck out like a big sore thumb.
I cringed when people said, "You're so lucky to be so thin."
That wasn't why I was lucky; I was lucky because I was alive.
When I was twenty, I nearly died. I didn’t like to think about it, much less talk about it, but the memory had a way of creeping up on me when I least expected it—like now, while I watched Rhett.
I lost so much that day by his pool—but the most insidious thing his words and actions had done was change my identity from being a chubby girl to being…well, someone who fed herself the bare minimum while running on caffeine and self-hate.
I’d gotten so good at hiding it, so good at smiling and insisting I was just “too busy to eat.”
I believed I was fine, even as my clothes hung loose on my shrinking frame, even though my reflection continued to look the same to me—fat, ugly, hideous.
Then, one day, my body finally gave out.
"What do you think, Pearl?" Nina asked me, making me snap out of the past and into the present.
I had been listening with one ear, a skill I’d picked up as a kid who didn’t want to hear what people were saying about her but couldn’t help herself, and listened to them all the same, breaking her tender heart.
"I think that we need a strategy that combines new hardware with the implementation of new policies—if we do one without the other, we're going to be playing catch-up."
Rhett nodded and took a document from his colleague, whose name I didn't catch.
"That's exactly our recommendation as well.” He smiled at me.
“We've done quite a few such projects, and trying to implement new regulations without the right IT systems will create more issues and lead to policy violations. Here is a list of companies we’ve worked with in the past who have agreed to speak with you, if you want more insight.”
He slid the document in front of Layla and me. I picked it up and scanned it.
He was good at what he did, I had to give him that.
I had worked with several consultants in my years as a finance professional, and he was one of the best—as was his team.
They were en pointe and weren't trying to fleece the client or push projects to increase their billable hours.
Well, even though, as a teenager, he had the morals of a worm, in business, he seemed to have integrity.
After the meeting was over, Rhett walked with me to my office. I wish he hadn't. I needed to tighten the chain links on my armor as they had come loose at the impact of seeing him again, up close and personal.
"Aunt Hattie is very grateful that you're staying close to her," he said casually as I stepped into my office and glanced back at him, my gaze making it clear I was wondering: What the fuck do you want?
"I'm the one who's grateful."
"Cash said you didn't want to live on the Beaumont Estate."
"Are we making small talk, Rhett?" I went around my desk and sat down on my leather office chair.
I swiveled, my ponytail swishing on my back as I did.
At work, I tied my shoulder-length hair into a ponytail.
When I was younger, I used to leave it loose as a way to hide my face. I forced myself not to do that anymore.
"I just wanted to say thank you for being there with Aunt Hattie."
"I don't need you to thank me."
He tucked his hands in his slacks and looked at me with keen eyes.
He was a handsome man, no denying that. We were about the same age—just past thirty, still navigating who we were.
I’d seen him around town enough to know he wore a suit well, but today, he was dressed more casually: slacks and a crisp blue-and-white striped dress shirt that made his eyes look like brilliant azure.
His hair was freshly cut and styled with just enough precision to look polished without feeling rigid.
And, of course, his shoes had red soles—because Rhett Vanderbilt couldn’t help but be a walking fashion statement.
But it was his hands that I'd watched the most. They were big and strong.
I remembered those hands, even though I didn't want to. I remembered them touching my untrained body—coaxing an orgasm out of me, which surprised both of us.
"It doesn't always happen," he told me in awe. "I'm so glad it happened for you. And, fuck, Pearl, you look so beautiful flushed like this."
"Can we do it again?" I asked breathlessly.
"Let me try something."
"What?"
"I'm going to eat your pussy. I…I've never done that before."
"Before I forget, congratulations on your engagement," I trilled. "You and Josie make a lovely couple."
He arched an eyebrow. "Do we?"
"Absolutely. I always thought you'd end up together. She was so keen on you."
He looked confused. "Really?"
"Oh, yes, she was one of your floozies who often told me that…." I shut the fuck up. What was I doing? Why was I talking about the past? Why was I letting Rhett bait me into exposing old scars and scratching them open?
"Told you what?" he coaxed.
I shrugged lazily. "Doesn't matter, and I honestly can't even remember; it's been so many years. Is there anything else I can do for you? I have a meeting shortly."
Rhett nodded. "Yeah, me too. Ah, it's good to see you, Pearl. You…look nice."
"Well, I’m a size six now, so I fit right into Savannah society.
" Bitterness edged my voice, sharp and unrelenting. I was nice-looking now—acceptable—because I’d lost weight.
But no one cared who I was on the inside.
No one cared that, once upon a time, my heart had stopped beating.
That I had technically died because I’d been starving myself, unable to stand the sight of my reflection.
And even now, even after everything, I still struggled to look in the mirror.
He looked hurt, and I wanted to throw something at him.
"I didn't mean it like that, Pearl. It’s good to see you thriving in a professional setting."
"Of course, you did. Now, if you'll excuse me." I tried to keep my voice light, but I knew it wasn't working. My therapist had warned me that going to Savannah would trigger me—that old struggles would resurface, and I'd known that seeing Rhett would be a test to see how far I'd come, if at all.