Chapter Twenty-Seven
Max
“It’s a good thing I dropped by.”
Seated at a massive dining table big enough for twenty, I smile, my heart still racing.
I barely had enough time to put the dress back on and smooth my hair.
Sadly, there wasn’t any time for the thong, so that poor thing is in hiding under one of the numerous vases.
I’m still slick between my legs. An aching emptiness lingers as my body remembers what it’s like to have Rhys pound into me.
Stop thinking about that.
The man who stopped by introduces himself as Frederich. Wiry, with a high forehead and slicked-back silver hair, he looks like a Victorian literature professor, especially in a starched white jacket and matching slacks.
“What are you doing here?” Rhys’s voice is gravelly. His lips are dry, but his jacket sleeve glistens with the juices from earlier.
I place a hand over my eyes, but that only serves to bring back the vivid image of him on his knees in his bespoke three-piece suit, devouring me. His glasses are back on his face, making him look calm and collected.
“Bringing your dinner?” Frederich responds with a cocked eyebrow, seemingly unperturbed by Rhys’s terse tone. He lays out a platter of calamari fritti and lasagna from two sizable thermal containers.
Rhys rubs the spot between his eyebrows. “Of course.” A pause. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy. By the way, Ellie will be in charge of housekeeping from tomorrow, to replace Renata, who’s on maternity leave.”
Rhys nods. “Okay. Thanks for checking on that.”
Frederich finally cracks a small smile. “My pleasure, Rhys, as always.” He takes another good look at me before leaving, his pale gray eyes as sharp as a knife.
Hopefully he’s merely judging how bad my laundry skills are compared to his staff.
One of my exes, whom I dubbed Mr. Fastidious, separated laundry into seven different piles, based on shades, how saturated, and how stained.
He probably would’ve created more categories if the bathroom hadn’t run out of space after seven baskets.
After the door closes, Rhys lets out a heavy breath. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” He takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair, then undoes his cuff links and rolls up his sleeves.
I nod, unable to think of anything better at the moment than to stare at his forearms. I trace every lean line, the blue veins standing as he moves.
The man didn’t get those from typing and moving money around.
I recall the strength in his arms when he held me up with just a hand on my ass, then supported my weight as I wantonly rocked all over his gorgeous face.
Resisting an urge to fan myself, I grab the utensils and plates he indicates, while he pours drinks—two glasses of chilled Pinot Grigio.
As we go to the table, I realize I’ve never eaten with him in a place as intimate and personal as his home.
Some partners and directors host parties and team dinners in their houses, but Rhys never does.
The centerpiece on the table is also white gardenias.
He plucks a blossom with a short stem and slides it behind my ear.
“Since the other one isn’t in such great shape now. ”
My cheeks warm as his fingers brush over my earlobe.
My intuition says this Rhys is dangerous.
The bossy Rhys or the grumpy Rhys, I can handle.
Even sexy Rhys is manageable. But this version of him, the one that does unexpectedly sweet things from time to time?
He’s tricky, easily sliding past the boundaries I’ve set up around my heart for this fake relationship of ours.
I paste on a smile. “Thanks,” I manage, then clear my throat and dig in.
The calamari is surprisingly crispy and flavorful, and the lasagna is full of thick, rich meat sauce and melted cheese. I blink. “How did he keep the food so nice and fresh? When I do DoorDash, nothing arrives in this condition.”
“It’s a family secret, apparently passed down for generations.
Silas begged him for it, but Frederich’s been firm on keeping it within the family.
I expect Silas to ask to be adopted by Frederich one of these days.
” Rhys takes a healthy bite of the lasagna after staring at it for a second longer than normal.
“Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. Not that it’d be a big loss for Silas.”
“Doesn’t he get benefits from the Kingswood name?” Everyone knows he’s not Auric’s son, but it’s Auric’s name on the birth certificate.
“Not even a little. Whatever he has, he earned through hard work and dedication.”
“Isn’t there talk about how he got his CEO position through nepotism?” I ask cautiously. He works for his mother’s company.
“Mom can appear frivolous and absolutely shameless, but she’s amazing at picking talent. She’s never made a bad call, and Silas wouldn’t have stayed at Platcher if he couldn’t measure up.”
“So what’s Frederich, really? He doesn’t work for you, does he?” I would’ve heard of him by now.
“He’s actually my parents’ butler. They inherited him after Grandfather retired and downsized. He manages household matters for my parents, mostly…but dedicates a few days a month to help manage mine, my grandparents’ and my brothers’ as well.”
“Does that mean he knows what’s going on in everyone’s households?”
“Probably.”
“NDA?”
Rhys shakes his head. “No. But he’s solid. Warns me when my parents are about to barge into the office.”
“That makes him more than solid. He’s golden.” It also explains how Rhys knows every time his parents are about to interrupt his day.
My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, then make a face.
–Unknown: Can we meet?
“What’s wrong?” Rhys asks.
“Some creep asking me to meet him.”
Concern darkens his eyes. “A stalker?”
“No. I’m not that interesting.”
Rhys considers for a moment. “Jeffrey might want to harass you.”
I shake my head. “He tried, and failed.”
“Good. Want to hand it over to Angelo?”
Despite the revelation that he’s a staunch humanitarian, Angelo possesses fists that can break your face with one swing. “Probably a prank. Not worth getting him involved.”
–Unknown: It’s immature to block me on other numbers, Ms. Norman.
“And now I know who it is.” I drop the phone on the table and return to eating. “Some lawyer from High-Strung Dicks, trying to meet his billable hour quota, probably.”
Worry crosses Rhys’s face. “Are you getting sued? Need a lawyer? Anybody from Huxley & Webber can fuck this guy up. I’ll make sure of it.” He jumps to my defense without question. It’s like he believes me to be the kind of person who deserves his unquestioning, unconditional protection.
My heart kicks hard against my chest. Warmth tinged with apprehension races through me. I revel in his trust and protection, but a small part of me is hesitant—almost afraid for some inexplicable reason.
I shake my head, more to clear my mind than to respond to Rhys. “Told you I’m not that interesting. He’s Trevor’s lawyer, not anybody important.”
Rhys’s eyebrows immediately snap together. “What does he want?”
I start to brush him off, then stop. I’ve never spoken of Trevor—always treated him like he’s dead to me. Not even Ailee knew my dad was alive until recently, although she still has no clue who he is…yet.
But Rhys has already run into Trevor and helped me deal with him. He backed me up without asking a single question, and that deserves more than a casual rebuff. “Supposedly his mistress-turned-wife cheated on him. The son she gave him—the one he abandoned me and my mom for—isn’t his after all.”
Three heartbeats. “Wow.”
“Right?”
“So Boobsie Barbie backstabbed him.”
I chuckle at Rhys’s nickname for Lily. “I guess what goes around comes around. He betrayed Mom, so he’s getting what he deserves.
Not that I condone what Lily did—she knew Dad was married.
But I fault him more for the affair. She didn’t owe Mom anything, but he owed his wife loyalty.
He always says he only married her because she was pregnant, but I think he actually needed her more than the other way around.
She was a strong woman, didn’t need his sorry ass for anything, while he wanted somebody to prop him up while he did his ‘legacy building.’”
“Legacy building?”
“Making a boatload of money so he could ‘become somebody.’” I roll my eyes. “She kept her end of the bargain. He should’ve, too. I actually wish him chlamydia.”
Rhys winces. “Harsh, but fair. So why is he contacting you? He has to know you don’t like him, to put it mildly.”
“He needs an heir, even if his only real choice happens to lack a penis.” I let out a soft snicker to hide the needle-prick pain in my heart.
“He’s unworthy of you.” Rhys’s blue eyes soften with sympathy.
Suddenly, I can’t keep the raw words in. “As much as I despise Trevor, I also hate it that I occasionally wish he weren’t such a mega dino turd. Sometimes—” I stop abruptly and rest my brow on my knuckles, hiding my face, not wanting to reveal more than I already have.
“Freckles, you have nothing to be upset about. The one who should be sorry is him—for missing out on the life he could’ve had with a loving wife and a beautiful daughter,” Rhys says.
I close my eyes briefly to regain control. His calm tone soothes the pain until I feel like my usual self again. I straighten and manage a passable smile. “Exactly. He’s the one who lost out.”
“You should send him a greeting card, consoling him on raising a child that isn’t even his, while welcoming him to the twenty-first century.”
I laugh.
He grows serious. “Are you considering being his heir?”
My stomach churns at the very idea. “Ugh, no. He keeps dangling money like I can be bought. I’m priceless.”
Rhys grins. “Yes, you are. And I’m proud of you.”
“For what?”
“For knowing your worth. A lot of people cave at the temptation of money.”
“I guess.” I heave a sigh. “But in a way, I’m very fortunate to be where I am. He’s offering a couple of billion bucks, so if I were in a bad place financially, I might take it. But I’m not. I’m gainfully employed, and my boss pays me well enough.” I smile at Rhys.
“Well, I’m glad I’m able to help you maintain your dignity.”
The way his striking blue eyes twinkle takes my breath away, even as part of me warns that the lines in my life are becoming too blurred.