Beckett
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in,” I say. Rhys walks into my office. “Did you miss me, honey?” “Ke ep that up, and I’ll
ship your ass right back to Asia.” “Is that any way to greet your partner after twenty-one days
away?” he says. “I’m a little offended. And hurt. And sad. And a million other emotions.”
He’s so not funny. “We were texting constantly and we had plenty of video chats. It’s not like we
haven’t been in contact for three weeks.”
“It’s not the same. Nothing can r eplace the face-to-face.” I roll my eyes. “Are you in my office to
display your newly acquired passion for bad acting or are you here for a reason?”
He takes a seat in one of the chairs across from my desk and leans forward, placing his elbows on
his knees. Amusement dances in his eyes.
I lean against my seat. “What is it now?” “I didn’t think the day would come, but you proved me
wrong.” “What are you talking about?” He reaches for his suit pocket, pulls something out and
tosses it on my desk.
My eyes drop to it before settling on his gaze. It’s a keychain I’m familiar with. “While I was away,
Cecelia was my eyes and ears. Other than your business trip to Germany—which made a nice
splash in the business section and boosted SCORE—it seems you and your cock managed to stay
out of
the papers. Since you held your end of the bargain and you were a choirboy for the last thirty days, I
have to honor my word. And for the record, I’m shocked. My vintage motorcycle is now yours.”
My eyes drop to the keychain again. I gave up one temptation for another. No regrets. “We need to
make arrangements to figure out when I deliver my pride and joy to your door,” he says. “I’m sure
your fist must be killing you by now. I guess tonight, you’ll be heading to Dark Compulsion to
make up for the last four weeks.” He lets out a boisterous laugh.
I don’t crack a smile. Rhys texted me an hour ago to let me know he was on his way, but I’ve been
ready for this conversation for a week now. It’s time to get it out of the way. I was waiting for his
return to talk to my executive assistant and his. Cecelia pledges allegiance to her boss. I wanted
Rhys to hear it from me and no one else.
“I can’t acc ept your bike, man.” His head rears back. “What do you mean?” “Exactly what I said. I
can’t acc ept your bike.” “Has hell frozen over without my knowledge?” His gaze slides to the
window. “Are you telling me Beckett Christensen is passing up on a chance to gloat about a win?”
Idiot. “Let’s have this conversation over there.” I point to the couch area. “Okay,” he says with a
slow nod. We both get up and cross my office. I sit on the couch. He sits across from me on a large
chair.
“What’s up, Christensen?” I inhale a de ep breath. “I’m guessing you didn’t uphold your end of the
bargain,” he says. “You left a lot of room to manoeuvre.” I shrug. “I became creative at finding
loopholes.”
“As in?” “As in kissing. You left that one off the list.” “You don’t kiss women, so I didn’t bother
adding it—” His eyes widen as realization sinks in. “Arianne.” It’s not a question. He soldiers on
without giving me a chance to answer. “Another notch in your belt, Christensen? Is that it?”
“It’s not like that at all—” He jumps to his feet. “This is another case of you pulling down your
boxer briefs, grabbing a ruler and measuring your cock to prove you have a bigger dick—which you
don’t.”
“That’s not it—” “You couldn’t ke ep your hands off her? Everyone has to be your plaything?” he
says. “I’m sure you’ve already moved on to another woman.” His eyes radiate with rage.
“You’re dead wrong.” “Sure.” He shakes his head. In many ways, his reaction doesn’t surprise me
given my history, but I didn’t expect him to be this slicing.
“You mean, your generosity extends to two nights now, instead of just one?” Sarcasm laces his
words.
“No,” I say. “I mean, Arianne and I are dating.” His jaw drops. “I’m a ‘one woman’ kind of man
now, Rhys.” “You? Dating?” “Yes.” “You’re not fucking other women? No more Dark
Compulsion for you?”
“No to the first question, and yes to the second, but with Arianne.” “Are you shitting me right
now?” “I wouldn’t joke about something like this. I really like her, and we have a great thing going
on.”
He comes to stand in front of me and studies me long and hard. I lift my gaze to his and hold it. I’m
not going to bother getting up. I can do this alpha shit from where I’m sitting. Seconds tick by as we
each stand our ground. Rhys st eps backward until he’s sitting in the chair across from me. “You’re
serious?” “I am. I’ve never been compelled to date a woman before, but Arianne cast a spell on me,
and frankly, I’m not itching to break it.”
“Holy shit,” Rhys says. “I guess I should say, Holy Chic.” We both laugh. “That stupid t-shirt
started it all,” I say.
“Yeah, that and the steamy salsa dance.” “Arianne had me from the moment the lights were turned
back on in the elevator, but Cesar’s engagement party sealed my fate.”
“I called you on it when we spoke the day those telling photos went viral, but you denied it.”
“I answered your questions truthfully. It’s not my fault you weren’t asking the right ones.”
“Omission is the same as denial,” he says. “Yada yada yada.” “I guess, that’s beside the point now,”
he says. “Let’s move on to the more important matter at hand... Beckett Christensen is off the
market. What the fuck?”
“All this bullshit I’ve always heard about the one... it turns out it’s just a question of bumping into
her.”
Rhys shakes his head in amazement. “I leave for three weeks and you’re now pussy whipped.”
“Guilty as charged.”