Page 1 of The Client
PROLOGUE
RHYS
Tonight,my father has spared no expense showcasing what a self-important asshole he is.
The private ballroom appears to have been decorated for the purpose of welcoming foreign royalty, rather than for celebrating the 55thbirthday of Rupert McConnell, a middle-aged businessman with an ego problem.
There’s gold and crystal everywhere, extravagant ice sculptures, champagne fountains that sport a roulette of changing colors, truffle towers on each table. There’s even a literal red carpet rolled out from the entry doors to a center table, where the man himself sits like a fucking king on a throne, pretending to be engrossed in something one of his illustrious guests is saying.
But I know better.
The saccharine laughter, the meticulously groomed charm, and the stage-worthy smile: these are the building blocks of the man my father becomes whenever he’s front and center. He’ll go to any length to draw attention to himself and keep it there. It’s an act he’s perfected over the decades, and one that people are all too quick to fall for. Why shouldn’t they? He’s the best bullshitter I’ve ever met.
Smoothing my tuxedo jacket, I pause as my palm glides over the bulge in my left pocket. Reaching inside, I touch the square box and allow myself a brief smile as I scan the sea of guests. The room is packed with gorgeous women, but there’s only one I came here to see.
Celine.
If not for her, I would have stayed home tonight. She’s been in her native Paris for two weeks visiting family, the longest we’ve been apart in the year that we’ve been dating. I’m itching to run my fingers over her supple skin and feel the delicate arch of her hip in my palm as I pull her against me and show her off. She’s the perfect glitter to my darkness and I’ve missed her. More than anything.
There had been little for me to cherish in my life until I met her. And if all goes well, she’ll be wearing my ring before the night is over.
Fuck my father and his party. I’m not afraid to upstage him at his own shindig by proposing to my girlfriend and drawing everyone’s attention to the five-carat behemoth that I’m going to slip on her finger, engraved with tonight’s date. The old man can stand to share the spotlight for once in his life.
This is going to be a night to remember for me, too.
“Rhys!”
My father stands from his chair and waves me over. I turn my back to him, pretending I didn’t hear his shout. As I do, a smirk springs to my face. He knows that my grandfather—his father, and the CEO of McConnell Enterprises—asked to meet with me today. There’s no doubt in my mind that Dad has been stewing for hours, filled with rabid curiosity about the meeting.
If only he knew. But he won’t hear a word about it. Not for another five years, when my grandfather’s decree has been carried out and I take over as the new CEO, effectively skipping right over my father. Until then, Dad and I will work as equals while I’m groomed for my new role. Then I’ll be in charge. Just as it should be.
The truth is, I’ve always served the company’s best interests, while Dad has always served his own. I work hard, I maintain strong relationships with our clients, I incentivize our employees…I don’t take the company jet to Vegas every other weekend to play golf and impress call girls. Apparently, this has not escaped my grandfather’s notice. The fact that Dad will be getting the shaft brings me almost as much satisfaction as making Celine my wife.
Which is why I’m more than happy to put a smile on my face tonight for this party.
“Mon chéri.”
A shiver courses down my spine as Celine speaks softly beside me, her slender hand moving over my shoulder to rest behind my neck. My tense muscles relax with the relief only her presence can give me. I turn and our eyes lock, her ice blue meeting my own hazel brown.
Drinking her in like a man dying of thirst, I cast my greedy gaze over her statuesque body, sheathed in a silvery gray dress that fits her like a glove. Below a diamond choker, the plunging neckline shows off the inner rise of her breasts, the edge of the fabric skimming dangerously close to her nipples, which perk enticingly against the silk.
Fuck, I’ve missed her. Even the scent of her gardenia perfume is enough to make my cock twitch.
“Celine,” I breathe as I move in to kiss her.
Her smile falters. She turns her head so my lips land on her cheek instead of her pillowy lips, then turns the other way so I can kiss her opposite cheek. How easily she’s fallen back into the social etiquette of her home country.
Cupping her chin, I study her as she produces another brilliant smile, but it’s her modeling smile, the exact same one I’ve seen on so many billboards and in magazine ads. Gleaming, beautiful, but empty, as if her thoughts are a million miles away.
Something is off.
“I’ve missed you, goddess,” I tell her.
Stepping back, Celine bites her lip, then lowers her lashes. Is she playing coy now? My fingers clench as I refrain from driving her against the wall and crushing my lips to hers. I’d love nothing more than to drag her off right now for a quick reunion fuck in the coat closet.
“Il faut qu’on parle,” she says. “Can we take a moment together, please?”
We need to talk.
