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Angelo takes all the glossy bags, holding ten in each beefy hand, and goes to the car. Rhys and I turn to leave.

“To the office?” I ask as we exit the building.

“No. Home.”

I check the time. “It’s only six.”

“Time for dinner. I’m starving.” The look he gives me is full of hunger.

My mouth dries. Excitement shivers through me at the idea thatI’mgoing to be the dinner. “I—”

“Hot damn. Are you finally spending money on a woman?”

Rhys stiffens. It’s Auric, in a well-tailored white dress shirt with several buttons undone, a beige sports jacket and slacks in the same shade. The croc-skin shoes are scuff-free, although they don’t look new.

“What are you doing here?” Rhys asks flatly.

“What I do best. Treating my girl while getting some happy time.” Auric grins and pulls his shirt slightly aside to show off a fresh hickey mark on his upper chest. A brunette who couldn’t be more than twenty clings to his arm with a solar-level smile. Her purple dress is so tight, she probably needed to be greased to get into it. She gazes up at him adoringly, her long, dark hair disheveled as though somebody thrust his fingers into the mane. It’s obvious what they’ve been doing.

I shake my head a little at his ridiculous pride. I hope he’s smart enough to know she’s only with him for money.

Every muscle on Rhys’s body tenses as he glares at his father, then steals a quick glance at me. I give him a minimal shrug. There’s nothing I can say about the situation. It’s his father. Auric doesn’t seem to understand words like “maturity,” “dignity” or “class.”

“You should do it more often,” Auric says, giving me a sly look. He slaps Rhys’s shoulder with a laugh, oblivious to the tension. “Keeps you young—and life interesting.” He turns to me. “Max, darling, make sure you get some nice stuff out of this son of mine. He can afford it, and it’s the least you deserve.”

“Shut up, Dad,” Rhys grinds out.

“Show some respect.” Auric’s tone lacks heat. “I’m just trying to help. You’ve got to treat a woman right, occasionally spoil her, even. Like me.”

Rhys’s knuckles whiten as he clenches his hands.

Time to defuse the situation.

But before I can speak, Auric’s brunette whines. “Daddykins, I just realized I don’t have any shoes to go with the Dior dress for tonight’s date!”

He pats her head. “Well, we can’t have that! Let’s go in.”

He disappears into the boutique, and one of Danica’s assistants leads them farther inside. Rhys’s jaw flexes, his cheeks blotchy. He’s always like this when he has to face his father, but who could blame him?

His eyes flick in my direction, and whatever he sees makes the light in his eyes dim.Damn Auric. I hate it that running into him and his tartdu jourhas ruined our nice, flirty mood. I start to reach out to comfort him.

“Oh, don’t tell me!Rhys?”

What now?I turn my head.

“Selena?” he says with a mix of surprise and guardedness, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of relief and affection as well.

A blonde with sky-blue eyes runs toward us—then wraps her arms around Rhys. The tight red ruched dress leaves nothing to the imagination, showing off her abundant breasts, flaring pelvis and long, shapely legs. Her narrow feet are in strappy silver stilettos.

Suddenly I question the wisdom of buying a pair myself. Should I return them?

Smiling, the woman places air kisses on each of his cheeks. My left eyebrow twitches. ThisSelenasounds British with a giant stick up her butt,and what’s up with the fervent air kisses?If I weren’t here, would she be planting her mouth on his?

The idea twists my gut. Who the hellisshe? What makes her think she can lay her paws on Rhys? Most importantly, why is helettingher? He should’ve pushed her away, not look at her like she’s some kind of youthful dream lost.

The sight of Selena wrapped around Rhys superimposes over the image of Lily draping herself all over Trevor every time he deigned to drop by Mom’s flower shop, making my chest ache. Not that I think Rhys would give me an encore of that with this blonde, but the old wound digs into me anyway, stirring up long-buried pain, fury and insecurity.

“Just imagine running into you here!”She’s still not pulling away. Although her arms aren’t wrapped around him anymore, her hands are gliding down his biceps and forearms, copping a feel.