Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1)

by Noelle Bodhaine

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she offers coming up behind me, tousling my slept in curls. “He brought you bagels,” she teases me. “Don’t sell yourself short. You are different. You are generous and sweet, idealistic to a fault and real. I talk about you all the time. He is going to love you, just be yourself, he won’t stand a chance.” She hugs me, saunters out of the bathroom and into Matthew’s waiting arms.

  ***

  Brunch, shopping, dress fittings and tastings. The day is scheduled to the minute, the wedding chaos officially beginning. The men golf while we have our fittings and final tastings for the reception. The wedding party meets for lunch after which time the sexes go their separate way for the respective Bachelor and Bachelorette parties. The chatter is becoming static, I am an outsider here. The others in the wedding party are familiar and have shared experiences and memories. They all have a history, having grown up and traveled in the same posh circles. I have only Olivia, but I am glad to see her surrounded by so much support. She is going to need it. Taking another sip of sparkling water, I hear Rhys’ name drift across the table. My eyes meet with Melissa’s. She is sharing her conjecture of Rhys’ evening activities while her expression oozes contempt and jealousy. The others pick up on her gossip and he quickly becomes the subject of the tables’ idle chatter; who he was last pictured with on Page Six, or the gossip rags. His name volleys across the table like a ball, back and forth they giggle and wonder at his most recent carnal activities. Gossip and conjecture is all I am hearing, so I turn to Olivia for respite. She reads me like a book and pulls me into a conversation about home.

  My life has been nothing but change and upheaval for so many years. I have become numb to the daily mess of it all. Being here with Olivia is supposed to serve as a distraction, but it is always looming in the back of my mind. I have no one left. Just as Olivia is embarking on this amazing journey with a new husband and extended family, I am alone. Color me green, because I am envious.

  ***

  Olivia is surrounded by two scantily clad police officers and a gaggle of squealing women. Her face flaming with embarrassment and amusement, I catch her eye and motion that I’m going to step out. The room is too hot, smells of sex, leather and expensive perfume, crowded with overheated women. I walk through the double doors into the foyer of the suite that sits atop our hotel and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. The water is cool and crisp, taming my wild thirst, coating my throat. I am a buzz from the day’s activities and decide to take a walk. I stumble to the door on the tragically high heels that Liv wanted me to wear and decide to leave them behind. I prefer bare feet, my feet don’t like to be trapped, and I am more comfortable being that much closer to the ground, thank you. I walk out into the hall and wait for the elevator.

  I sway to the tune stuck in my head as the elevator glides toward the ground floor. The doors open to none other than every woman’s favorite topic of conversation this evening, Rhys, in all of his arrogant, electric perfection. He is headed out the side door towards the patio where we first spoke. He doesn’t see me as I follow him outside, my bare feet not betraying a sound. I silently pad behind him until he stops at the end of the patio, he swirls his drink in the heavy crystal glass and takes a sip. He looks lost in thought and totally unaware of my prying eyes. I watch the muscles in his back move under his crisp shirt as he takes another drink, his back straight with a perfect ass to anchor a pair of powerful legs. He is all business. His crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled over sculpted forearms, his hair is rumpled and his collar loose. I feel myself heating from within, the sight of him mingles with the gossip of the day and I remind myself to keep it together.

  “Do you always linger in the dark?” Rhys turns and locks me in his sights. Fuck! I didn’t think this through! He closes the distance between us in two long strides and comes to a stop inches away from my face. He bends down coming eye to eye with me and takes a deep breath. A low groan rumbles in the back of his throat. He closes his eyes for a moment and pulls back, standing straight, looking down upon me like the imposing man that he is. “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

  “Strippers are not really my thing.” I have never enjoyed the thought of some strange man waving his junk in my face, call me a prude but, no. “What are you doing here?” volleying his question.

  “Something that had to be taken care of.”

  “What’s her name?” I ask coyly, peeking out from under my lashes. I feel the rush of blood all over my body, releasing my inner flirt. She is bad when she wants to be.

  “Her name is work,” he returns flatly. Oh, excuse me, Mr. Grump. He can be so cold, his mood flips on a dime. His face is stern and offers nothing. Feeling the need to divert his attention and douse my rising temperature I reach for his crystal glass.

  “What are we drinking?” I ask bringing the glass to my lips in the place where he had been drinking from, the smell of scotch filling my nostrils. He holds his hand up in warning, but before he can I take a long greedy sip and lick my lips, returning the glass with a grin. It is a taste and smell I am familiar with, my father having been a scotch drinker.

  “Dalwhinney,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief, then looks at me with an admiring smile in his eyes. He really is beautiful when he smiles, but the naughty girl inside me is intrigued by his cold side. The sweet scotch spreads through me, warming my blood and loosening my tongue. It’s clear that this man lives to intimidate and takes great pleasure in it, but I can be disarming when I choose to be. What better place or time than right here and right now. With liquid courage flowing through my veins and his scent swirling in my head, I surrender to my curiosity. There has been too much talk about him going around today for me to not find out some truths about Rhys.

  “There was quite a bit of talk about you this afternoon.” My eyes hardly hiding the smile I am trying to stifle, yet once again I seem to have hit upon another locked lip topic. He looks from the side of his eye at me.

  “Really? And was there a consensus, I hope?” Forcing a half grin to keep his mood light, but the question holds no humor. Turning to me he takes a step forward, and waits for my unprepared answer.

  “You have quite the reputation.” I search his face for a reaction but he offers none. “It seems you are a ride not to be missed.” A slight twitch in his eye betrays the proud grin he is trying to suppress. “So why haven’t you tried with me?” WHAT!!! I want to pull the question back and swallow it, erase it from the face of the earth, but it’s too late. He turns his smoldering gaze on me and I almost combust. He closes the gap, leaving only a sliver of air between us, not touching any part of me, yet I can feel him all over.

  “Is that what you want?” His voice laced with promise, his eyes search mine, waiting for my answer.

  “No,” I hiss without thinking. His face falls slightly, but he recovers just as quickly. “No, I was just.. wondering, why….I’m sorry that was stupid.” I shrink from him, ice filling my veins where once hot blood had flowed. My inner flirt kicking herself, wishing we both could be swallowed up and disappear.

  “Well, now I surely won’t. Now, you will have to beg, Little Sophie” He puts his hands in the air in surrender and steps back, triumph and mirth reflected in his face. He smiles at me with that most sexy crooked smile and bows his head. Little Sophie? Those two words start a fire in me and I am compelled to challenge him. I resolve to win this battle and step up to him. He balks for but a moment before he gains his footing and puffs his rock hard chest. I take a deep draught of his scent, being careful not to touch him. He smells of scotch, cigar smoke and salt water, it is intoxicating. I raise my index finger and hook it into his shirt just above the top button, being careful not to touch his warm, radiant flesh.

  “I think it will be you that will be begging, Mr. Ego,” the words slither from my tongue, wrapping around him, teasing.

  “I thought that was not what you wanted,” he whispers, leaning in closer, the smell of musk and salt water flowing through me.
<
br />   “Hmmm, I think you like to play games, Rhys. But, I am a woman, I can change my mind.” A gentle flick of my finger and I pop the top button revealing more of his chiseled chest, peppered with dark hair, the skin glistening from the warm, sticky sea air. A sharp intake of breath and he closes his eyes, stretching the moment, torturing me with silence. His eyes are like liquid pools when he turns their full power on me. His lips part and his tongue emerges to swipe at his bottom lip before he leans in and gently kisses me on the corner of my waiting mouth. I want explosions and sparks, but the kiss is painfully chaste, prompting an empty ache deep in my core. Leaving me wanting. I want him to kiss me like he means it, like he can’t think of anything else. Instead, he is kissing me like a silly school girl. My heart is sinking, my head flooding with self-doubt and loathing. The gentle contact is torturous. His hands are firmly at his sides, our bodies separated now by the deepest chasm, inches become miles. The silence is unbearable, like an empty cave, my misguided words echoing off the walls in my head. I want to run and hide, but my legs are anchored to the spot, afraid that if I take a step I may sink to the ground from embarrassment and rejection.

  “Rhys! There you are.” Matthew comes around the corner, followed by four other slightly wavering forms, the rest of the bachelor party. I am instantly relieved to be interrupted, just waiting for the men to get closer and engage Rhys so I can run. The moment feels like an eternity as I watch them approach. Rhys’ eyes never leave my face, I can feel him burning me up, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I cannot bear the thought of looking him in the face, the man who apparently makes it his business to bang most women that he comes into contact has denied me. Humiliation has replaced any warmth that he provoked, the blood rushing from my head into my toes, leaving me flushed and dizzy. Rhys releases me from his sights to nod at Matthew and I seize the moment. I turn away from him and making a break for the side entrance. Turning on my bare heel I go for the door when Rhys’ strong grasp pulls me around, his hand covering my upper arm with more force than necessary. I look down at his hand, then to his waiting face.

  “Sophie,” he whispers, his heavy brows creased, a slight twitch raising the corner of his tight mouth.

  “No,” is all I can manage as I pull my arm from his grasp and retreat from this battle he has waged on my body and mind. Hearing the door click behind me, I release a deep breath, dropping my shoulders from their defensive position. I want to get to my room as quickly as possible and move towards the bank of elevators. I try not to look behind me as I wait, wanting Rhys to leave me alone, but also wishing he would come after me. When I get to my room it is stuffy and dark. All of the windows have been closed up all day and the air is heavy and stagnant. I open the gauzy curtains and pull open every window along the back wall welcoming the cool sea breeze. I change into my coolest night dress and lie down on the bed, watching the curtains dance in the breeze, the lights from outside painting moving shadows on the walls.

  I can’t keep my mind off Rhys, his crooked smile dancing in my head, mocking me. Rejecting me. He has infiltrated every recess of my body and mind, creating a raging war of overstimulation and delicious confusion, tying me up in a sensual knot. Every fiber of my being twisted and wanting, a touch or a breath could push me over. I am teetering on the brink of insanity, his presence the cause and the only cure. No man has ever taunted me so thoroughly, creating such an intense awareness of the emptiness in my loins, illuminating a chasm that aches. Aches to be filled, over and over, filled to the bone. I am drawn to him without explanation. If you don’t take into consideration his imposing form, stunning face and the intense ‘fuck me’ glare he throws around. He embodies all the things I hate about cocky men, and have avoided my entire sexual life. Guys like that just take what they want, believe they deserve the world, and discard you when they get bored. They are superficial and arrogant and only see women who are impossibly perfect. I imagine that I am the antithesis of all he looks for. Undereducated, under traveled, underfunded and over fed. The thought repeats in my mind, like a taunting echo. I close my eyes and take in a deep cleansing breath of the fresh air that slides over my body from the open windows. I am unable to quiet the incessant chatter cluttering my head. And the heat, the heat is inside of me, making me so aware of my body. Attempting to banish Rhys to the farthest recesses of my mind I sit up in the dark and search for the television remote.

  Chapter 4

  “….In the World.” I vaguely register Jeremy Clarkson’s voice declaring the worst car in the world, eyes closed, breathing deep and even, on the edge of sleepy oblivion when I am roused by a soft rap on the door.

  “Room Service.” With a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I pull the door open, a protest already passing my lips.

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t…” Before I can get the words out Rhys peers around the corner and dismisses the room service waiter.

  “I’ll take it from here, chap.” Pushing past the dumbstruck waiter, he rolls the silver cart into the room, turning and slipping the young man a tip before closing the door, turning his attention to me. “I thought perhaps a midnight snack,” revealing an array of snacks from underneath the shiny silver serving dome. Plump, ripe figs, green globe grapes and Chevre accompanied by a sliced baguette and shaved prosciutto. My stomach growls at the sight. Realizing I haven’t eaten since brunch, I momentarily forget to question what he is doing in my room, yet again. I pick at the grapes mindlessly watching him move about the cart, he is fidgeting. Is he nervous? What on earth for?

  “What are you doing here, Rhys?” quizzing as I nibble on grapes, pushing the sleepiness back.

  “We should talk.” His tone is pensive and unsure. God, I hate those words, we should talk. Nothing good ever comes from that phrase, I hate those words.

  “OK.” I am unsure of his motives, but intrigued and a little hungry come to think of it. He moves into the room, scanning his surroundings, looking anywhere but in my eyes.

  “You’re a good girl, Sophie.” Was that a question? It sounded like a declaration. Whatever it is, I am immediately defensive.

  “You don’t know me.” With only five little words this man has got my back up.

  “I know enough to know that I don’t want to hurt you.” He moves to sit at the edge of the bed. “And if this happens… Us. You will get hurt. I don’t do relationships.” I stand above him, arms crossed, trying to hide the growing anger in my eyes.

  “Wow! Does your ego know no bounds? We have known each other for a minute, and you think I want to be in a relationship with you? You don’t know anything about me, Rhys. You have made assumptions about me, but you are very wrong.”

  “Fine,” he says. “Are you a good girl, Sophie?” His wide eyes wait. My mind rages and I open my mouth to respond with a bite, but quickly snap it shut.

  “I. What is wrong with that? Why does it sound like an insult? What does it even mean?” I am exasperated. Why would being good be a bad thing? He stands, resting his hands on my shoulders, sending a spark across my skin, looking down on me with soft, pity filled eyes.

  “It means you are good and sweet. You are Olivia’s friend and I hope you will be mine.” I push away from him and cross the room. I need distance, moving into the corner, closer to the open windows and fresh air, air that is not riddled with his scent.

  “So, now you want to be my friend?” Frustration at his judgment boils over and I lose control of my tongue, while Olivia’s words echo in my head, ‘Be careful, he is a force.’ “I see what you do Rhys. You like to keep women off balance. Well, you won’t rattle me. Just because my bed post isn’t whittled to a toothpick from all the notches doesn’t mean I am a good girl! Just because I am not sexually hyperactive or walk around with my body on display, like your contemporaries doesn’t mean I am not a grown woman. You have misjudged me and overestimated your effect, I might add.” I move back into his orbit. “It is one thing that I have had to listen to these women talk about you like some prized stud while they lee
r at me, assuming already that I am your latest victim.” I jab my finger into his chest, his hard, unyielding chest. “But it is another for you to stand before me and proclaim it for yourself. I have some dignity, Rhys. And if you think I was just going to fall flat on my back for you, you really don’t know anything about me.” He throws his hands up and takes a step back, backing up against the bed.

  “OK, I’m sorry. Let’s start over. Can we start over, please?” He pleads. I take a deep breath and watch him fill his lungs with a deep breath. His face softens and the edge in his stance wavers. I don’t want him to go, and I didn’t want to come across so angry. I take a deep, cleansing breath and smile at him, taking a grape to fill my mouth and still my tongue.

  “Fine, let’s start over,” I offer, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

  “Good. I brought snacks. I thought we could get to know one another, Sophie.” His lips caress my name. His eyes are wide and hopeful. “Get friendly.” His crooked smile wins the day, helping me to shake off the last ropes of frustration. Sure, it was a product of the scotch, sleepiness and his intoxicating proximity. His intentions were painfully clear in the way he kissed me outside, like a silly young girl with a crush, he gently dismissed me. Now that I know where we stand why should I not demystify and get friendly with this enigma? I look up at his waiting face, dark lashes framing emerald green eyes, freckles dusted across the bridge of his straight nose. There is warmth in his face that was not evident before now, his grin is eager, no intimidation in his manner. I offer a warm smile and climb to the head of the bed, pulling the comforter up over my legs, clearing space for Rhys and his meticulously arranged platter of nibbles. He offers me a glass of Perrier, kicks off his shoes and lowers himself onto the bed next to me, careful to sit on top of the comforter.