Jules held it up, and the women stared at it.
“Didn’t hate the company,” Abigail whispered. “Total soft launch vibes. I love it.”
He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the understated comment paired with their holding hands. “Maybe we let Sloane do what Sloane does.”
“If Sloane knew this picture existed, she would have already tossed it like chum to starving sharks.”
Jules and Abigail shared an unspoken conversation. She picked up her phone and tapped on the screen, and a devious smile curved on her pretty face. “Done.”
That was one way to take ownership of a picture that had made her feel out of control.
Jules’s cell phone vibrated.
Abigail snorted. “That took Sloane an eternity to see. You should talk to her about that slow reflex time.”
Jules answered the call.
He couldn’t hear the words, but he could absolutely hear Sloane.
“Hang on. I’m putting you on speaker.” Jules tapped her phone and laid it on the table. “Okay, we can all hear you.”
“You beautiful, smart, gorgeous people,” Sloane crooned. “I want to kiss you. Brilliant move. The first comment says, ‘I know that guy.’ They know it’s Rhys. Okay, my phone is blowing up. Let me know how tonight goes.”
“Guess that was a good move,” he said, not comfortable with the picture and not comfortable that anyone had recognized him from behind. It was a taste of his own medicine. He could usually identify anyone from any viewpoint. Yet somehow he’d never been able to pinpoint her stalker.
“You’re not eating,” Jules said to Abigail.
“I’ve been laughing.”
“You didn’t eat your shrimp.”
“I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”
“Or you have a hangover from day drinking,” he pointed out.
“Or that,” Abigail admitted.
His phone buzzed. Rhys glanced at the notification on the screen. Scarlett had sent a paragraph’s worth of heart-eye emojis.
If he could get away with silencing his phone for the rest of the evening, he would.
“What’s that face for?” Jules asked.
Grimacing, he held up his phone. Their laughter shook the table and didn’t stop through the rest of dinner. Abigail didn’teat. Jules had dessert. Rhys didn’t think of himself as Mr. Serious but guessed they did.
“What about you?” Jules asked.
He hadn’t been listening. “I don’t know.”
The corners of her pink lips tipped up in a smile. “He wasn’t listening.”
“If we’d never been born into the movie business,” Abigail said, “what would you be doing?”
“I’m not in the movie business,” Rhys pointed out. “I’d still have my job—maybe without the fake-boyfriend shtick. But I like protection details. What’d you say?”
“I’m not in the family business either,” Abigail said.
Family business. What a different lens to see the world. Through the eyes of one of the most well-known families.
