Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
DANI
Sawyer drops me back home after breakfast. The feeling in my chest is dull and formless, a giant sprawling ache. Rhys texted to say he kicked Myla out and wanted to talk, and I should feel relieved. It shouldn’t hurt so much. But the lusty magic of our morning has evaporated with the realization that seven days does not a forever guy make.
Still, part of my mind went there.
It’s only been a week, but it feels bigger.
When I look at Sawyer, I register that he’s been studying me. The gray hairs on his temple shimmer silver from the sun spilling through the sunroof, and I see the miles on his face, forty not so far away.
“I’ll be in touch about Gia and JC,” I say. “Thanks for breakfast.”
I gather my purse and open the door, but Sawyer halts me with his hand before I slide out. He revealed a different, softer side this morning. He fiercely loves his brother despite their dynamic. We even managed a few laughs sharing office politics stories over bitter drip coffee that would’ve made Rhys cry.
“It kills me to say this,” he starts. “But you might be the breakthrough Rhys needs. Go easy on him, okay? He’s more fragile than he lets on.”
“I will,” I say, my heart heavy. “I promise.”
Sawyer draws his hand away, the corner of his mouth twitching with an almost smile. “And maybe don’t tell him how surprised I am that he made it this far.”
As he drives off, I'm grateful for the clarity he brought to the Trenton family mess. He explained a lot. Explained everything except Myla—a choice Rhys cannot pin on troubled family history.
But then again, I remind myself he had a whole life before this. One that I hold no claims to. And who am I to judge? The woman who kneeled under Brett’s desk while he gripped my hair and set the tempo?
Not exactly Snow White.
And there’s the bigger issue about his father. Rhys has never once mentioned a trip to Vancouver. And I plan to ask him about that once he gets here.
Inside my villa, it’s fever-hot. I open every window, but the limp breeze only pushes the hot air around. Rhys suggested we meet at my place to talk, and I hated the first thought that flashed through my mind: because it's more neutral or less tainted?
I apply a fresh coat of lip gloss in the bathroom, my hand lightly shaking. I felt calm-ish on the drive here, but my world is now buzzing and popping. Rhys will explain, I listen, and a decision lies at the end. One that Sawyer insisted had Rhys on a plane back to Corfu.
I’m prepared for that. I think.
What I’m not prepared for is to find Rhys, right in my living room, simmering quietly in a wrinkled black t-shirt. Fists shoved into the pockets of his shorts.
Taller, somehow.
The beautiful chaos of last night rushes over me. How we both lost ourselves, melting into each other and coming undone.
My insides start to quake.
“Hey,” he says. “I let myself in.”
“I can see that.”
He shakes out his hair like it's a nervous tic. “Sawyer left, huh? He sent me a text.”
“We had an interesting breakfast.”
Rhys pulls a face. “How much did he shit on me?”
“Hardly at all. Most of the conversation involved you and your family.”
His eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “That so?”
Without knowing all the details, a portrait of his life has emerged. One that he needs to color in. “I didn’t know your father was ill.”
A little tremor works around his mouth. “That’s one of the reasons why I took this gig. To check in on him.”
“When were you planning to do that?” I ask as gently as I can.
He pins me with those heart-stopping eyes. Instead of humor dancing in their depths, a brewing storm rages. “I’m not here to talk about my father.”
I sit on the sofa and pat the space beside me. “I know.”
He perches on the edge of the sofa, his body tightly coiled. I breathe in his spicy vanilla scent, the fragrance that swirled around us this morning in bed, while his touch, the gentle stroking of my hair, radiated through me like a burning fire.
Rhys stares at the floor, his expression blank. “Myla was a one-night stand. A mistake I truly regret. Should I have said something? Yes. Eventually. But no one confesses their dirty secrets when you’re about to make love to someone for the first time.” His eyes meet mine with such a sorrowful gaze that my breath catches. “I swear there is no one else. There hasn’t been for a long time.”
That reveal doesn’t compute with the delicious shock of Rhys battering me senseless. I guess I found a winner in the stamina department.
“You showed no signs of rust.”
I crack a smile, but Rhys keeps a lock on his serious expression. “The likes of Myla is not how I roll. It’s the furthest thing from the truth.”
I lay a hand on his knee and squeeze it. “I know.”
His bewildered expression clears into a look of ah-ha . “So, you and Sawyer talked about many things.”
“He loves you,” I say, side-stepping the details. “Even though you drive him crazy.”
“Yeah, well, that goes both ways.” Rhys makes an indeterminate sound and fixes his attention somewhere behind me. He looks years younger, and vulnerable. “I wish we had a closer relationship. Like you and your sister.”
After Rhys held me tight during last night’s aftershocks, he smoothed my ruined hair from my face, and we rambled about life in that free-association, deep dive way when you’re awash in pheromones, inhibitions loosened after intense first-time intimacy. I shared my frustration with my permanent second-place standing, forever in Amelia’s shadow. But he congratulated me for never allowing that to supplant our bond.
Maybe that’s inspired him to do the same.
After a heavy silence, I address the elephant in the room. “Where did she end up?”
He faces me dead on. “I stuffed her in a taxi. A one-way trip to Kelowna. She can find her way back home from there.”
“She seemed a little off-kilter.”
“Ya think?”He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I call women like her the Crazies. The scary thing is, there’s an endless supply of them. If it’s not her, it’ll be someone else next time.”
“There was another gang of women holding a vigil this morning at the entrance,” I reveal. “They swarmed the SUV before security stepped in.”
With a depleted-sounding sigh, Rhys slumps back and tilts his face skyward. A long minute passes. “It’s not fucking worth it anymore, Dani,” he finally says. “No amount of money validates this insanity.”
I curl my legs underneath me and hold space quietly, sensing we are shifting into a more profound territory. “Are you thinking of giving up the influencer stuff?”
He tips his head left to look at me. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
“What would you do instead?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “Last night, you got me thinking. About your agency. Maybe I can help you set it up.”
“From here?” I clarify, not believing for a heartbeat Rhys would slum it in Osoyoos. “But you live in Greece.”
“What if I didn’t?”
My pulse races as fast as my mind reels. I’m half in shock, half wishing Sawyer was here to eat his words.
“Oh,” is all I say.
He sits up and repositions himself on the sofa to face me, eyes bright and no longer dull. “You have the brains; I have a ton of money, more zeros than I know what to do with. Might be an option to explore.” He scratches the back of his neck like he’s itching away his fears. “I’d rather do something purposeful with my life. Not just be a face that sells random shit. I mean, not Pink Pearl, obviously,” he’s quick to point out. “That stuff is the bomb.”
He searches my face with frank confidence that unnerves me. What he’s inferring is huge. And the logistics of starting a new venture together when I’m still finding my feet at Nero Vino are beyond my grasp. Never mind the personal implications of merging lives. Suddenly this conversation is moving in a direction I’m not prepared for.
“I’m flattered by your offer,” I say. “But maybe we should, you know, let things unfold at something other than a breakneck pace?”
The shine in his eyes dims the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Sure,” he says, disappointment creeping into his voice. “I mean, no rush.”
Oh, god. Did he expect an immediate yes? Even though it feels like time has folded in on itself, it has only been seven days. Still, I sense he feels what I feel.
That there is potential in us.
I gather his hand in mine and kiss it. Tuck it to my breast. “Please don’t interpret that the wrong way. I like you. I like you a lot.” My accelerating heart rate cracks open the tightness I’m holding on to inside, and a nervy giggle erupts from the depths. “Honestly, I’ve had a stupid crush on you for years.”
A silence falls. So sudden and absolute and weighty, it becomes the third entity in the room. Rhys stares at me, head tilted like he’s trying to parse if he heard me correctly.
“Years?” He sits with a sudden stillness that feels dangerous. “I thought you recently followed me.”
A bad crampy feeling takes over my entire body. I can almost taste his unease. “Uhm, actually, my sister discovered you first. She hosted a podcast called Easy A Gets the Scoop. She interviewed you three years ago. That was when I officially started following you.”
Very slowly, he extracts his hand from mine. “Your sister was Easy A?”
“Yes,” I say when, intuitively, I know the only answer to remove the heaviness that settled around us is “no.”
Rhys stands abruptly. Tall, trembling. I can see it on his face—pieces falling into place. But what pieces?
“Is that what went down at Yvette’s?” he asks, a wariness in his voice. “Some kind of sisterly payback?”
Huh? Sisterly payback?I’m utterly confused. A patch of voice escapes my mouth. “What does that mean?”
“I didn’t understand the look of triumph in your eyes,” he says, his voice gathering steam. “But now it makes sense. Was that the plan all along? For Amelia to show up here and orchestrate a tag team?”
His words land like poison darts. My whole body seems to wilt because he’s accusing me of something untrue.
“Honestly, I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I say. “Can you?—”
“Right,” he scoffs, cutting me off. “No clue. Just like you started following me two months ago.”
I feel a prick of panic at how fast everything has tilted not in my favor. But he has to understand. In what universe does it make sense to lead with Hi, I’m Dani, your boss. And by the way, every night I cyberstalk you and think nasty thoughts. Welcome to Nero Vino!
I wring both hands, guilt brimming inside me. “I didn’t say anything about knowing who you were so you wouldn’t feel weird.”
Jesus. It sounds pathetic, even to me, and his eyes drill into mine like I’ve lost the plot.
“Yeah, well, so much for that.” He crosses both arms, his gaze liquid fire. “Last night you said you and Amelia have no secrets between each other.”
Suddenly, I feel queasy. Amelia was adamant I keep mum about the podcast—to keep my interactions with Rhys untainted is how she couched it. But his anger. That can only mean… Oh, shit. I rise to my feet, hoping that movement will shed the devastation building in my bones.
“Please,” I plead. “Tell me what happened with Amelia.” Because there is a story, although every nerve fiber in my body revolts against hearing it.
We stay locked in a silent standoff. An entire wordless exchange happens with his eyes locked on mine, and behind the anger is a flicker of despair.
“Today is already my worst nightmare, Dani,” he says, his voice stripped raw. “And I have zero interest in rehashing the past. Ask Easy A what happened and keep her far away from me. The last thing I need is more Crazies in my life.”
And Rhys marches out, slamming the door behind him.