“No,” Jules countered.
“Why not?” Abigail asked. “Have a little fun. Be silly. All you and Rhys have to do is cozy up and fake a little smooch or twowhen the cameras are looking. Fun? Remember what that is? Because it doesn’t feel like you’ve done that in… well, ever.”
“I agree,” Sloane said. “Two birds. One stone. A spectacular PR campaign that destroys your ex before he destroys you and a little fun.”
The masseuse bent her leg and pressed her thumbs into the pressure points on the ankle. She rolled her foot one way, then the other.
“I don’t want to destroy Mason,” Jules muttered.
“I do,” Abigail said.
Abs didn’t know the whole story, and a pang of guilt flared in Jules’s chest.
“Was that a yes?” Sloane asked.
“No, it was a groan. I’m getting a massage.”
Abigail repositioned as the masseuse moved the sheets and asked her to flip over. “I’d groan if my job required me to pretend that Rhys Callaghan was my new boy toy.”
“Abs, you don’t even like guys. Don’t ever call him a boy toy.”
“Gay doesn’t mean blind, Jules. Rhys is a stud. Sloane? Agree or disagree?”
“Ten out of ten on the hotness scale. Everyone on this call knows that.”
Her cheeks heated. “Stop.”
“We also know that you’ve always had a little thing for him,” Sloane added, reminding Jules for the millionth time that her publicist knew too much for her own good.
The heat in her cheeks morphed into a full-fledged blush. “What are you talking about?”
“We both know,” Sloane continued. “This isn’t breaking news.”
“I always thought you would date right when you stopped hating him,” Abigail said. “Then this thing with Masonhappened. Maybe if Rhys didn’t live on the opposite side of the country.”
The masseuse moved the sheets between her thighs, covering one leg and exposing the other. Jules’s skin prickled as cold air and warm hands covered her calf. “He shared what he shouldn’t have when he testified. I can’t be interested in a man I can’t trust.”
“He did that to protect you,” Abigail said quietly. “You’re going to have to let that go.”
“More than fifteen years,” Sloane snapped. “Our girl is a grudge holder. And this one makes her an idiot. You still want him around, and he will always go wherever you need him. Because you trust him. You’re just bad at losing control.”
Hence the arranged marriage. Hence Jules keeping Rhys close yet untouchably far. Yeah, Sloane wasn’t wrong.
Abigail nodded. “He’s always protected you. And has since the day you met him. His testifying was him acting in your best interests. Even if you wanted to hide.”
They all fell quiet, Sloane and Abigail maybe realizing they’d taken the conversation too far. Rhys had rescued her from a man she’d thought had loved her. Nope. That lunatic was simply a crazy guy who’d stolen her away from the world and hidden her in a frozen barn.
Rhys finding Jules half dead hadn’t exactly been a cute meet-cute. But what came after that was loyalty. Even if he’d testified to the deepest secrets she admitted on that cold day. It had put her abductor in prison for decades. It had shared her most intimate thoughts with a court and jury, who reported the embarrassing details for the world to consume on their phones, as if her life were one of the movies she acted in.
Yet despite all that, there wasn’t another person she trusted with her life.
“His people will talk to him,” Sloane said with far more composure. “If he says yes, will you?”
Jules closed her eyes. “When do I have to decide?”
“I don’t know why you’re fighting this.” Abigail tried to add the levity back into their conversation. “He’s like a Dorito. Broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Bet he’s hot and spicy.”
Jules groaned but had to laugh. “You’ve had too many mai tais. That’s terrible.”
