“Fuck it.” Rhys opened his door. “I’ll check on her.”
He crossed the driveway, punched in the door code, and burst through the front door.
Anticipation buzzed under his skin. His footsteps echoed as he entered the grandiose foyer. The ceiling soared. Ambient lighting greeted him like a warm hug. Danger didn’t lurk here in the shadows. Threats didn’t hang in the fresh air spiced with the hint of cinnamon. Yet Jules had walked into a coordinated attack. Why the hell had he let her walk in alone?
Rhys made his way through the stately living room, which opened onto an outdoor pavilion, then veered toward the offices, where the library anchored the business wing of the expansive property.
A man’s voice, loud and tinged with anger, pulled Rhys farther down a familiar hallway. They were meeting in the library. They’d chosen her favorite meeting space instead of a formal conference room. The assholes had probably made themselves comfortable, waiting for her to come home. Rhys wondered when they would have called it a night. They would’ve tried the next day again. Maybe they’d hop on a plane to St. Barts. The lawyers wouldn’t care. They would be paid regardless. What would Mason’s motive be?
Rhys didn’t know how, but he’d bet his life on Jules’s money.
He pulled up short. A woman he recognized was pressed against the wall, eavesdropping. Tears brimmed in her eyes. She jumped when she saw Rhys, then apologized as she turned red. He pressed his finger to his lips. Understanding he meant to listen also, she nodded, remaining silent.
Mason Marlow ranted, and Rhys understood why the woman’s eyes were brimming with tears.
Another voice cut into Mason’s bluster, but Jules’s ex quickly reestablished that he had more hot air to blow.
Other calmer voices tried to cut in, but none were Jules, and none made a difference.
“She’s in there, right?” Rhys asked.
The woman at his side nodded.
“Call Sloane. Give her a recap, and tell her to get her ass down here.”
The woman nodded and hurried away, the thick carpet muffling her retreating steps.
Rhys took her spot and listened to every ugly, accusatory word. Mason spouted demands of contracts and requirements, about more money than Rhys could ever imagine in his bank account, and about public perception. Notably, he didn’t mention a thing about knocking up his fiancée’s bridesmaid.
The asshole focused on his loss to the Lowry family connection. He was a grifter through and through. A grifteranda cheater. Rhys couldn’t listen to him anymore and pushed off the wall.
“Are you done?” Jules asked crisply and coolly. “Because I have things to do.”
Rhys faltered. His lips quirked at the sudden mental image of her examining her nails, zoned out and bored with Mason’s tantrum, knives sharp and waiting for the perfect moment to make her offensive maneuver.
“More important than this?” Mason sputtered.
“Mase, what do you want from me? You messed up. I’m not following through with anything except the honeymoon. And I’m taking that with Abigail.”
“Are you kidding me—”
“Get ahold of yourself, Mason.”
“No.”
“Well, that’s a personal problem,” she said. “But legally? This is cut-and-dried. If you’d listen to any of the lawyers you brought in here, you’d know that. They’re telling you to shut up because you’re wrong.” She paused, and Rhys imagined she casually ambled across the library to stand over Mason. “I don’t know thelegal terms, the loopholes, but everything is null and void. You can spin this however you want to but not with me. And all of you…”
Rhys guessed she’d turned to the lawyers.
“Can explain to him the many ways he’s wrong. Billable to him. Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s good faith. Everything was negotiated with that. Olivia’s baby bump and your tongue being down her throat negates whatever bull you’re spewing.”
Rhys should have known better. Jules could take care of herself. He didn’t understand her cryptic references earlier to being alone, nor did he get why she wasn’t upset about the cheating, but that wasn’t his place to figure out.
He left Jules to school her ex and located the woman who had been eavesdropping. She was leaning on her elbows, typing on her phone when he walked in.
“Hey,” he said.
She jumped as though she’d been caught. Somehow, he doubted she was selling stories to the media, more like giving someone on Team Jules the truth about Mason.
