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.”
