“Let’s drink to our exes,” Rhett says. “May they find happiness too.”
I sip my drink too quickly, my nerves raw under my skin.
“So,” Rhett says, lounging back. A man utterly at ease in these surroundings. “What are you expecting from New York?”
“You mean besides Times Square and bagels the size of my head?”
He laughs, genuine and rich. “Besides that.”
I chew on my lower lip. “I don’t know. Maybe … it’ll help me to understand you a little better. New York is your world, isn’t it?”
His eyes catch mine, suddenly serious. “And London is yours.”
For a beat, I’m caught, held by the weight of his gaze. Something tightens low in my stomach, a mix of fear and want. I tear my eyes away, focusing on the bubbles in my glass. This isn’t real. I remind myself of that fiercely. This is all about George. About proving something. And winning him back.
And yet, when Rhett leans close and murmurs that we should go because we’re boarding soon, the thought of being alone with him in New York makes my heart kick like it’s betraying me.
At the gate, we fall into line with the other travelers and holidaymakers. Rhett rests a hand on the small of my back as we walk down the jet bridge, guiding me with that easy authority that should bother me, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel safe. Theheat of his palm seeps through the thin fabric of my dress, and my knees nearly give way.
By the time we step onto the plane, into the cool hush of first class, I know one thing with bone-deep certainty. I am in dangerous territory here. And I’m not sure that I want to find my way out of it.
Chapter Eighteen
Pippa
We leave the airport and get into a waiting cab. Rhett turns to me and smiles.
“Just so you know, the place we’re going to, the Hamptons, I don’t actually live there, but it’s where the wedding is.”
“Oh! Are we staying at a hotel?”
“No. We’re going to my beach house. I live in Manhattan normally.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” I say. In my mind, I envision a picturesque little cabin on the edge of the beach, all driftwood and colorful rugs. A quaint little place that smells of salt and always has a layer of sand on the wooden floor, no matter how much it gets swept up.
I couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Bright yellow sunshine hits my face the moment we step out of the car, and I squint against the brilliance of it. The ocean sprawls endlessly to one side, its waves glittering in the afternoon sun. The almost white sand seems to go on for miles, while in front of us, a mansion rises, immaculately white andstylish with enormous glass windows. A perfectly manicured lawn and a driveway lined with sleek luxury cars. My stomach twists in a way that’s both awe and panic.
“This is … yours,” I breathe, unsure if I sound admiring or envious.
Rhett leans against the car, casually cool, his hands in his pockets. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
I snort out a laugh. “Humble my ass. Jeez, Rhett! I expected a quaint little cabin. You could have warned me you were rich.”
He shrugs in that effortless, infuriating way he does. “Does it matter?” he asks. “The neighbors are friends of mine who are also down for the wedding, so it’s not like you need to worry about fitting in.”
My brain tries to process all of this. “Your friends all have holiday homes here too?” I repeat, more for clarification than anything.
“Yeah. Although some of them prefer to summer in the Med, they’ll all be here for the wedding.” His lips twist. “Elliot Hawthorne doesn’t take no for an answer.”
That name hits me like a lightning bolt. Elliot Hawthorne. I’ve seen him before on one of those eligible bachelor lists. He’s tall, dark, impeccably dressed, and rumored to have inherited some massive fortune and a fleet of super yachts. My pulse accelerates.
“It can’t be the Elliot Hawthorne from the Forbes list, surely?” I ask, waiting for Rhett to laugh and tell me not to be so silly.
Instead, he nods. “That’s the one. Although he won’t be a bachelor for very much longer.”
“So,” I say slowly, trying not to squeak. “You’ve brought me here without proper warning. It’s a society wedding. I’m going to make a total fool of myself. Oh God, I don’t have anything to wear.”
