Page 63 of Vetted for Vengeance
When the meal is ready, we each carry our own plate and a glass of wine into the dining room.
Drinking wine at home with a meal feels ridiculously grown-up.
At the farm, dinner was usually something eaten standing up between kennels.
Here there's a table.
Plates.
Wine glasses.
A man across from me who threatened to call the police on my parents without hesitation.
I feel… protected.
Rhys lifts his glass, but his attention flicks briefly toward the dining-room window.
It's the first time I've noticed that from this seat you can see the entire car park through the trees.
He doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t need to. His eyes move back to me, calm and focused, like he’s already decided nothing out there matters.
But the glance tells me everything.
He’s still watching.
For me. Not them.
“So what happens now?” I ask hesitantly.
“We tell the production team that your parents are not to be interviewed,” Rhys replies immediately. “If any news channel does it anyway, they lose future access.”
“I… uh…” I take a swig of my wine. “I meant about us. Do I still sleep in the spare room?”
“Are you planning to throw socks at my head?”
“I just want to sleep.”
“With me?”
“Yes. I feel safe with you.”
Which is the craziest thing I've ever said.
I know this man is dangerous, but I trust him more than anyone I've met.
Maybe it's because I know his demons.
I know he's debated killing me and let me live.
“Sleep where you like, as long as it's not with the puppies.”
“That would involve sleeping with Chloe. And Figgy. No offence to her, but I've delivered quite enough night pups.”
A grin creeps across Rhys's face. Like I've made the right decision, but maybe for the wrong reasons.
“Come on. Let's watch a film that doesn't have dogs in it.”
Rhys collects the plates and carries them to the kitchen. I linger for a moment, finishing the last of my wine.
