by Vivian Wood
“So, how do you plan on burning the willing eyes of the world today? Anything special planned for the PDA of the day?” They hadn’t told Marco about what was happening between them. All that he knew was that his normally reclusive boss had suddenly taken a liking to being seen, more particularly, being seen with Serena.
Today, more of the same scene-causing had been planned. “I’m not sure, actually.” She looked over to where Rhys was finishing his last rep. “He likes to decide on the fly, depending on his mood,” she said to Marco with more confidence than she felt. She was pretty sure he decided based on where would garner the most attention, but she couldn’t tell Marco that.
“A man who likes to be in control. I get that,” he said to her before yelling over to Rhys. “You’re done, bro. Good job!” They bumped fists and Rhys made a perfect dive into the pool.
Marco fixed his attention on her again as she walked him out. “Well, it always looks like you two are having fun in the pictures, so I guess just keep having fun. I like the effect you have on him, stick around, will you?”
“Sure thing, Marco.” She didn’t want to let her confusion show, but she wasn't sure she was doing a good job of hiding it at that last comment. “Thanks for today, we’ll see you in the morning.”
“Cheers.”
She thought about what Marco had said all the way up to her room. She peeled off her sweaty workout clothes and stepped into the spacious shower as she shook the comment from her mind. It wasn't like that, she knew it wasn’t. Sure, she had noticed Rhys was drinking less, but they were busy and trying to keep up appearances - it wouldn’t do if he looked all hungover all the time. Not that she’d ever seen him look anything less than gorgeous, but there were some rather bleary-eyed photos of him circulating the web.
Speaking of keeping up appearances, Rhys thought it would be fun if they got caught in a “compromising position” with his hand up her skirt or something, apparently because he ”has a reputation to maintain” he had told her laughingly last night.
She wasn't entirely sure if he was actually joking or not, so she made sure that she was wearing a set of designer boycut panties in the exact same shade as her turquoise dress, just in case. She completed the outfit with matching pumps and slid her sunglasses onto her head.
He gave a low whistle when he saw her descending the staircase. “Looking hot, love. Fucking hot,” he said. His compliment had caused her whole body to light up, as if he had touched her. Love? That was a new one. And there wasn't even anyone around. The butterflies in her stomach threatened to escape again and a shiver ran up her spine. She tried to contain those feelings, it was probably nothing but a slip up on his part anyway… So she pushed them down deep, and took a calming breath.
“So where we going today?” she asked him as he eased the Aston Martin past the swarm of paparazzi still camped outside his gate.
“I was thinking maybe we should hit a few places at the beach. Maybe have lunch in Malibu somewhere.”
“Sure, I haven’t been to the beach in the longest time!” She relaxed into the soft leather seat.
He turned up the radio and she let the soft rock wash over her, looking forward to feeling sand between her toes. She had been listening to nothing but rock since moving in with him, and she'd definitely become a fan. Of one particular band more so than the others, but she needed to start somewhere, right?
At that moment, his phone rang through the speakers of the car, Milo’s name lit up the display and his voice replaced the smooth voice of whoever had been singing the rock song.
“You with Anders, Rhy?”
“No, headed to the beach with Serena. Why?” He said this too quickly, and his features had become slightly panicked.
“Been trying him since last night. He’s not picking up. I’m at his place and his car’s here, but he’s not answering the door. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Rhysie.” Milo’s voice sounded anxious, and Rhys seemed to realize this, too. His jaw was set, and there was a vein pulsing in his neck.
He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and the car responded instantaneously, surging forward.
“I’ll be there in two minutes.” He made a hard left, not slowing down for the turn but mercifully navigating it without incident.
“I’ll try the back,” Milo assured them as he disconnected the call.
Rhys didn’t say a word as they flew through another turn. Neither did she.
True to his word, just under two minutes later, they pulled up outside an imposing black wrought iron gate that had started opening as soon as the house had come into sight. She noticed a small remote control in Rhys’s hand that had appeared from somewhere.
Milo’s car, a red Mustang she recognized from his visits to the house, sat parked in the drive but he was nowhere in sight.
Rhys threw the car into park, grabbed a set of keys from the console between their seats and raced to Anders’ front door, quickly unlocking it without trying to knock.
He disappeared into the house just as Milo ran around from the back and followed him in. She didn’t think he even saw her in his rush.
Not sure what else to do, she followed them inside and heard both of them yelling for Anders before she heard what sounded like a wounded cry and Rhys’ loud voice. “Fuck!” he yelled. “Anders!”
At hearing Rhys’ voice sounding so wounded, her whole body turned to ice and it felt like someone had her heart in a vice. She turned the corner to find Rhys kneeling on the floor over something, shouting Anders’ name over and over again and, having a clear view now that she was in the room, she saw that the thing that he was kneeling over was Anders’ unmoving body.
Milo came flying into the room from wherever he had been searching for Anders, and tried to help Rhys wake the big man up.
Something clicked in her brain. They had been talking about him the other day, worried about him.
Without thinking, she surveyed the scene in the room. Empty bottles of vodka and bourbon lay scattered around the couch he was in front of, and there were several bottles of pills open on a coffee table that looked like it was covered in a layer of fine white power.
Fuck. Anders had overdosed. There was not one shadow of a doubt of that fact in her racing mind. She wasted no more time, pulling out her phone and punching in 9-1-1, rattling off the address to the operator and begging them to hurry.
Milo was now on the floor, staring numbly at Anders’ unmoving body. Rhys was still shaking Anders’ shoulders and not so lightly slapping his unconscious face. Then he let out a feral yell and started punching things. The lamp on the coffee table, then it was the coffee table itself, the leg snapping straight off.
Without conscious thought of what she was doing, she walked over to him, knelt next to him, pulled him into her arms and held him tightly to her chest. She rocked him ever so slightly.
By the time she realized what she was doing, he had, to her eternal surprise, put his arms around her and was now leaning into her, drawing fast deep breaths against her chest.
“Shh,” she said in what she hoped was a soothing voice and ran her fingers through his hair over and over again. “The paramedics are on their way. He’s going to be okay. They’re on their way. They’re going to help him.”
She continued like this for a while. Milo was still sitting on the floor, but was now watching them with a strange expression on his face.
“Milo, could you please grab the keys and let the ambulance in the gate when it gets here?” She tried to keep her voice soothing, but urgent enough that it broke through Milo’s thoughts and urged him into motion.
Wordlessly, seemingly stunned into silence, he did what she asked.
Within minutes, he was back in the room, paramedics in tow. Rhys was back in control now and had disentangled himself from her.
He was answering the paramedics’ questions, eyes still wild, but his voice as strong and steady as ever.
“Rhys, give me your phone, baby,” she asked as the EMT
s finished strapping Anders onto a stretcher.
Baby? Well, she didn’t know where that came from, but it had worked.
He slipped his phone out of his pocket and handed it over without question. She unlocked his phone with the pattern she had seen him make many times over the past few days and sent off quick texts to Deacon and Annie to alert them of the situation.
Rhys grabbed her hand as they followed the paramedics out to the ambulance and held her gaze for a second before hopping in the back of the ambulance with Anders and the techs.
“Milo will bring you to the hospital to meet us, okay?” His voice was confident, unwavering. He didn’t even look toward Milo for confirmation before the ambulance doors swung shut and they raced toward the hospital.
Milo locked the front door of Anders’ house with the set of keys still in his hands from letting the paramedics in and went to hold open the Mustang’s door for her to get in.
He was quiet on the way to the hospital, eyes wild and clearly still a little in shock. As they pulled up to the hospital, he turned to her for the first time and fixed her with that strange expression back on his face.
“You know, that wasn’t fake back there. Thank you.” Without more words, they both got out of the car and ran to the emergency room. As much as she was worried about Anders and torn apart by what Rhys must have been going through, she couldn’t help but play Milo’s words over in her head. He had seemed so sure as he said them. Not fake? Really? She wasn't so sure about that. Surely, Rhys couldn’t have real feelings for her? Could he? Her head swirled, but she pushed all these thoughts aside as they stepped into the emergency room.
Rhys was pacing the hallway. He said nothing but he pulled her to him, holding onto her tightly for a few seconds, breathing deeply and running a hand up and down her back before letting her go to resume his pacing. Milo just leaned back on the wall and screwed his eyes shut.
Minutes later, Deacon and Annie arrived. Annie looked beautiful and under control as she marched confidently toward them, barking something into the smartphone that seemed permanently glued to her ear, and Deacon shouting at someone at the other end of his own phone.
No one said anything. Rhys alternated between pacing and holding her. Milo was a statue against the wall and Deacon and Annie were both still talking into their phones. They barely acknowledged them and were talking too fast to make out their words at that distance.
An indeterminate amount of time later, a doctor appeared at her side. She had become lost as she stared at Rhys, and reveled in every moment that she could offer comfort to him.
“Mr. Grant?” he looked to Rhys, who had stopped pacing the second the doctor had made his appearance and had pulled her tight to his side again.
“Your brother is going to be okay. You got him here just in time. We’re going to keep him for a few days under observation, but he’s out of the woods. Just needs to rest now. You can come back to see him tomorrow.”
Rhys, Milo and she breathed a collective sigh of relief and as soon as the doctor walked away, Deacon and Annie were there, assuring Rhys that they had done and would keep doing everything in their power to keep Anders out of the news.
Deacon’s beady little eyes looked her over. “There’s a limo waiting outside to take you home. It’s not going to be easy to keep the press from finding out about this though, Rhys, you might want to make use of your little distraction here.” He sneered.
For just a minute, she had felt like part of their family, but Deacon’s words reverberated in her head. She wasn't part of the family, she was just the ”distraction,” as Deacon had so eloquently reminded her.
“Don’t you ever fucking call her that ever again!” Rhys seethed next to her, the anger radiating from him almost palpable. He seriously looked like he was about to start throwing punches again. She could almost feel how tightly wound he was, clenching his fists at his sides, the muscles rolling in his arms.
Instead though, he took a deep breath and then dragged her to the waiting limo without another word to Milo, Deacon or Annie. She could hear furious whispers behind their retreating backs, and she heard Milo’s loud, “Fuck you, Deacon!” reverberate around the emergency room. Thankfully, it was relatively empty and the people that were there looked only slightly alarmed before going back to whatever it was they were doing.
When they reached the limousine, Rhys let go of her only long enough for both of them to get into the luxurious vehicle, door being held open by an elderly man that was actually wearing a hat. As soon as he slid in next to her, he pulled her firmly to his side, holding on tight and draping his arm across her shoulders but staring straight ahead.
The privacy shield was already up and the second that the door slammed behind them, Rhys reached his hands up to cup her face, and fixed his burning gaze on her, his eyes searching for something in hers. He seemed to find it, because he slid one hand onto the back of her neck, drawing her in and pressed his lips hungrily to hers.
Her lips had parted as soon as she had felt his hot touch on her cheek, so his tongue now easily slid into her mouth. His slick tongue danced with hers, kneading it and exploring her mouth. His kiss consumed her, making her see stars and feel nothing but his lips and his hard chest against hers. Her whole body radiated with heat as she kissed him back with everything she had in her limited arsenal, her hands finally running freely through his hair. He made a low noise in the back of his throat at her light tugs and he kissed her even harder, as if he was underwater and she was the air he so urgently sought.
She felt one of his hands sliding up her thigh, gripping the skin under her dress and it was almost pathetic how badly she wanted to feel that hand sliding even farther up and into her. She had never experienced a want like this, this desperation to feel his hands on her.
He stroked her inner thigh with his callused hand, still kissing her as if his life depended on it. Somehow, without breaking the kiss that was setting fire raging through her blood, he was on top of her and she could feel his hardness pressing into her through their pesky clothes. A moan escaped from somewhere inside of her at the thought that this beautiful man could possibly be hard for her, but he was steel against her thigh. Triumph!
He let out a low growl at her moan and reached further up under her dress. His fingers grazed over her sensitive clit, causing her body to start shaking and an almost painful need for him to continue touching her. He danced his fingers lightly along the edge of her underwear, grinding his hips while still dominating her mouth with his. She knew he could feel the heat radiating off her, and she moaned into his mouth again as he dipped his fingers under the elastic of her panties.
He kicked into a higher gear, one hand teasing along the seam of her sex and the other pulling her right breast free from her bra and thumbing her hard nipple as he back arched and she tried to press herself somehow closer to him. She needed more, she needed him.
Her body was responding to his talented hands in a way that it had never responded before, and she could feel heat pooling between her legs. She never wanted this to stop.
He pulled off her soaked panties, still running his fingers along the seam of her sex, breaking off their kiss for only a second to whisper, “God, you’re so fucking wet for me” before bringing his lips back to hers with the hunger of a starving man. He stroked a slow circle around her now exposed clit and she saw fireworks, and another moan - much louder now - escaped. He flicked it softly, with just the right amount of pressure and ran his finger down through her wetness and slid it inside her. The feeling was exquisite, she squirmed, but she still needed more. Her hips had started rolling against him of their own accord and she couldn’t seem to stop them - not that she tried to.
She reached for his jeans and cupped his hard, thick length over them, squeezing and running her hand up and down over the material. He gave another low growl. “Christ Serena, what’re you fucking doing to me?” She moaned into his mouth, encouraged by his words. She squeezed him harder, stroked him w
ith the palm of her hand as she fumbled with his button, opened his zipper and dipped her hand into his underwear.
He reached down and managed to pull off his jeans and his underwear by the time her aroused mind had caught up to what was happening. She could feel his hard cock stroking her slit, right at her entrance, when she heard her own voice.
“Wait!” She surprised herself as much as she thought she surprised him. She broke off the best kiss she'd ever had, her mind hazy with lust and her voice laced with desire, despite the word she had spoken. He stilled his hand immediately, withdrawing from her and she felt like crying from the sudden absence of his touch.
“I can’t, Rhys. Not like this,” she begged quietly. Of course, he had no way of knowing that what she was talking about was losing her virginity in the back of a limousine, but he clearly got the message and within seconds, he was sitting fully clothed again at the other end of the bench, not touching her at all.
“Rhys, it’s just,” she began.
“No, Serena. I shouldn’t have. Don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”
“Rhys, please, it’s not that, I-” she tried again, but he didn’t let her finish.
“Drop it, Serena. Fuck.” He pulled his hands through his long hair and let out a long, frustrated breath.
No more words were spoken between them on the ride back to his house. He didn’t so much as even look at her.
Fuck. She should’ve handled that better.
14
Days had gone by since she had almost lost her virginity to Rhys in the back of that limo. He had gone out again after, but hadn’t told her that he was leaving or where he was going. Or who he was with… The pit in her stomach felt heavier every time she started thinking about who he might be spending time with. He’d been pretty riled up and for a man not known for monogamy, who was essentially and in truth single, she was quite sure he hadn’t spent the night moping around and crying occasionally like she had.
