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I marched to the car and flung the door open, not waiting for him to get it for me like he always did, and flinched when he shut it hard after I’d gotten in.
He turned to me when he climbed into the driver’s side. “Macy—”
“Just drive.” My voice broke and a tear slid down my cheek.
“Shit, angel,” Rhys hissed.
“No,” I ground out. “I want to have this talk at your place.”
“At our place. Our home,” he corrected.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Our home.”
As he started up the engine and pulled away from the curb, I turned towards the window and stared out, watching another tear trail down my cheek. It hurt, thinking about how I’d come to view his house as my home. Depending on how our conversation went, I might not feel the same way about his house by the end of the night. The pain was almost overwhelming as I sat there, silently crying the whole drive.
When he pulled into the driveway, I didn’t even wait for him to cut the engine off before I ripped off my seatbelt and flung my door open. I heard his footsteps behind me as I raced into the house, near desperate for the privacy and comfort the house offered.
“Why did you do it?” I cried out as soon as the door shut behind us.
“Bedroom,” he growled, stripping of his clothes as he walked away from me.
“What the hell?” I grumbled, following after him.
“You wanted to have this conversation in our home, and I let you have that—stuck listening to you crying without being able to do anything about it.”
Shit, so much for thinking I was doing it silently.
“You got what you wanted. We’re going to talk about this at home, in our fucking bed.”
“But—”
“Don’t,” he hissed. “I get that I fucked up and need to explain to you what happened with Kassidy and Harbor House. But you’re mine, and this shit isn’t going to change that. Nothing ever will.”
There was vulnerability and pain in his voice, almost as much as I was feeling. It made me pause, reminded me what was at stake. I was willing to bend, but only a little. Toeing off my shoes, I sat on the edge of the mattress. “Fine. I’m on the bed. But I’m not getting naked.” Because if I did, I knew exactly how this conversation would go—and there wouldn’t be a whole lot of words involved.
“I can live with that. For now.”
“Then answer my question,” I demanded.
He plopped down next to me, sighing heavily. “Because I fucking hate the idea of you working at Dirty Players. Of douchebags thinking you’re fair game because of it when you’re mine. Of not being there to protect you while you’re working.”
“I know you hate it, but the job there is only temporary until I get a—”
“Publishing deal,” he finished for me.
“One that I earned, though.” My voice cracked in the middle. I’d been so proud of myself when I opened that email, and it was devastating to know I hadn’t earned that offer because of my talent.
“You did,” he vowed. “Kassidy’s my friend, but she would never have pushed for the deal they offered you unless she loved your book as much as I did.”
“You really loved it?” Gah! I sounded so insecure, but when it came to my writing that was exactly what I was in some ways.
“Yes, angel. So did Harbor House.” He moved away from me, grabbed his pants off the floor and pulled his phone out of the pocket. “And I can prove it to you.”
He jabbed his finger at the screen and the sound of it ringing on the other end filled the air.
“Hey, Peanut Buttercup! Did your girl tell you the news?”
“Peanut Buttercup?” I mouthed at him.
He grimaced and shook his head. If it had been under any other circumstances, I would have joked about his friend’s play on his name. But we had serious stuff to work out. There was definitely a story there, but it was one for another day when we didn’t have serious stuff to work out.
“Yeah, Kassidy. I’ve actually got you on speakerphone, and I need you to clear something up for Macy before she does something stupid like turn down the deal you guys offered to her.”
“No! She can’t do that!”
Kassidy sounded panicked by the idea, and some of the tension left my body.
“Then you’d better convince her that you didn’t make the offer because of who she is to me.”
“Macy, I would never pick up a book because of a friend. Take the time to read it and see if the story is a good fit for us? Absolutely! But that’s where my loyalty to my friend ends, and the businesswoman kicks in.”
“So you liked her story?”
“Like isn’t a strong enough word. I loved it, and we’re publishing it because I think it has the potential to be a best seller.”
“Really?” I squeaked.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she responded.
“Okay.”
“You’re going to accept our offer?”
I nodded, but it was Rhys who answered. “Only after my lawyer has a chance to go over the contract.”
“I wouldn’t try and screw over the woman you love, Peanut.”
I smiled at how casually his childhood friend spoke about him loving me.
“I’m still going to have him look it over. It’s my job to protect her.”
“Awww, that’s adorable,” she cooed. “I can’t wait to meet you, Macy. I’m really looking forward to working with you on this series.”
“Me, too. Thank you so much.”
Rhys quickly said his goodbyes, setting his phone on the nightstand when he was done.
“Thank you for asking Kassidy to read my manuscript.”
“You’re welcome.” He dropped down beside me again, his fingers playing with the buttons on my blouse.
“I get why you did it, but I don’t like that you kept your connection to Harbor House from me when we talked about it. From here on out, no secrets. Okay?”
“Then I should probably tell you about the security team I have on you while you’re at Dirty Players.”
“You have guys watching me while I’m at work?” I shrieked.
“Not guys. Women.”
“I should have known,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at his aversion to other men being anywhere near me.
“If it weren’t for them reporting in while you’re there, I’d go out of my mind every time you were at work,” he explained.
“They don’t just keep an eye on me? They report back to you?”
“Fuck yeah, they do.”
“Gee, stalker much?” Sarcasm was thick in my tone.
“I’m not denying it, angel. But I have grown more comfortable with my tendency to stalk you because you can’t exactly stalk the willing, now can you?”
Shit, he had me there. “I guess you don’t need any more plots to keep me away from Dirty Players or a guard for me while I’m there,” I teased. “Because I’m going to be busy with my publishing deal.”
His eyes filled with apprehension.
“There was another plot? How in the hell did you get any work done all this time?”
“It hasn’t been easy. But at least I didn’t hide this one from you, exactly.”
