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 amoment 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 swaylazily 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.”
