Page 45 of The Client
Rhys tries to school his reaction, but the slow morph of disbelief plays clearly across his handsome face.
“Gentlemen, have room for one more?”
It’s Rupert. Was he waiting in the wings for this exact moment? The predatory, satisfied smile on his face suggests that he was. He’s enjoying his son’s discomfort immensely.
Smoothing his tie, he calmly gets up. “Take my seat. I was just leaving.”
Their gazes clash. Rhys has amazing self-control for someone who so openly despises the man in front of him. Furious energy rolls off him as if he’s seconds from wrapping his hands around his father’s neck. Instead, he gestures for me to get up, pulls my chair back for me and then takes my arm. We head to a smaller bar in the back of the room where he gets another scotch. I know that I should keep my mouth shut, but I can’t.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Who am I to argue?
“Why don’t you go freshen up or something? I need a minute alone.”
“But—”
“Just go. Please.”
His dismissal hits me like a slap. I shouldn’t have said anything. I overstepped. My cheeks burn as he walks away.
Quickly losing sight of him in the crowd, I lean my hip against the end of the bar and give myself a minute. Women spare me curious glances as they pass by, probably because I’m doing a poor job of hiding my curiosity over which of them might be the mysterious Celine.
This woman meant something to Rhys. Maybe still does. She’s off-limits considering his father got her pregnant. A sinking feeling goes through me. Maybe that’s the problem. This woman belongs to someone else… His father, of all people. That would certainly explain the tension between the two of them.
Setting down my champagne flute so I don’t drop it, I consider where to go for some air. My chest constricts and it’s hard to breathe. All those tender feelings that sprouted with Rhys’s kindness yesterday become a tangled briar inside me. Am I falling for a man who’s in love with another woman? Falling for him is my first mistake. There’s no basis for it. My circumstances are so skewed and messed up. How can I possibly hope to find love in a situation like this? I’m nothing more than a toy as Rupert put it. A plaything on a timeline. I am an expendable woman.
Angry at myself, I make my way through the crowd to the restroom. This is ridiculous. I have no right to get emotional over a man who will never love me and who’s made it very clear that I’m to be used and tossed away. Besides, a man can’t give away a heart that belongs to someone else.
Tears sting my eyes as I reach the end of the hallway and find myself outside the restrooms. Luckily, it’s empty when I rush inside.
Taking a moment to slow my breathing, I dab any stray mascara from beneath my eyes with my pinkies and smooth down my hair. The familiar movements do little to calm me down. Inside, I’m a mess.
Looking in my handbag for my lip gloss, I don’t pay attention when the door opens until someone clips across the marble floor and stops uncomfortably close to me. The cloying smell of heady, white floral perfume nearly takes my breath away.
“Mon dieu. For once, the gossip is true,” a throaty voice says. “Youdolook like me.”
Glancing up, I see the reflection of a woman in the mirror staring openly at me. Startled, I take a step back. It’s like I’m looking at myself, but different. Her hair is darker than mine. Her eyes a deeper shade. Her body is rail-thin, and her breasts are much bigger.
But our faces and the structure of our features, are uncanny.
It’s the way our faces are arranged, the structure of our features, the cheekbones. The arch of the brows. The same full lips.
I say the name that’s been in my mind all evening. “Celine?”
Her Gallic-red lips form a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Has Rhys been talking about me? He’s obsessed. It’s sad, really, isn’t it?”
It takes a beat for my brain to catch up to her French-accented words.
“He’s never mentioned you,” I say. “Everyone else has, though.”
She shrugs. “Because they all know he’s still hanging onto hope. It’s my fault, really. I need to cut him off completely. It would be best for all of us.”
Cut him off? What does that mean? Is Rhys still sleeping with her?
My gaze drops to her abdomen. Her silvery dress hugs every curve of her body, but her belly is as flat as a washboard. It must be too early for her to show…but it is too early to determine paternity? The wicked thought pings between my eyes. Is there a chance that Rhys fathered her child?
