Page 11 of One Weekend in London

As the busy London streets greet me, it repeatedly clicks in my head that I’m evading a lot more than just a simple drink with Rhys. Like a coward, I’m running from my demons and what could’ve been. A foreboding takes root in my belly, causing it to sink.

Because deep down, I know.

I know I just screwed up by fleeing, something I’ve done far too much of lately. To my dismay, I let my fear—as all-consuming as it sometimes is—win. And even though part of me already realizes it was a mistake, I don’t realize how big of one yet.

Something tells me I’ll soon find out.

CHAPTER 4

Rhys

I’m a man who values control above all else.

In the world I’ve carved for myself from steel and glass, power and precision reign supreme, directing my decisions with unyielding clarity. But all it took was a single, unexpected encounter with a blue-eyed Southern belle to disrupt the equilibrium of my meticulously arranged empire.

It’s as perplexing as it is maddening.

From the way she carried herself, fire and sweetness dripping from her every word, to the colourful threat she speared Thomas with, near perfection is a heavily jewelled crown I suspect I’ll soon readily set atop her head.

A woman like her is a rarity.

A glass of limited-edition Scotch in a sea of low-quality champagne—unmistakably bold and distinctively beautiful.

Starting with my father, I’ve toppled industry titans and outmanoeuvred the most formidable adversaries with calculated moves. Cold, emotionless domination? It’s not just a typical outcome when facing off against me—it’s an ironclad guarantee.

But Sadie’s left my locked-down heart racing; my well-honed control in tatters.

The lounge has begun reverting to its former state of muted, agenda-lined conversation and clinking glasses, the disruption we caused receding from the patrons’ focus, but her imprint on me lingers.

Grant saunters over, his eyes flicking from the door through which she disappeared to my tension-lined face. “Looks like I’m about to be replaced as your favourite American.” The wanker is wearing his all-too-familiar smirk, the sight of it capable of making even the most devout nun curse as if they’re a Royal Navy submariner. “Care to share who my pretty little successor is?”

Not yet willing to voice the chaos brewing inside me, silence is my companion. But Grant knows me well enough to read the signs. For almost a decade, ever since I was twenty-eight, he’s witnessed me pursue everything I’ve deemed worthy of having with relentless ferocity. He doesn’t need an answer to know the truth.

“Scratch that, there’s no need to bother replying.” Never missing the opportunity to be a smartarse, he chuckles. “I’d know that look anywhere. It’s the same one you get when you’ve set your sights on a business target. Only this time, it’s not a possible hostile takeover or ironclad contract that’s got you all worked up, is it?”

The warning glance I shoot him is scathing, but it does little to deter him, bouncing off his monumental ego like pebbles off a tank. His grin broadens, summoning my thinly veiled ire.

“You’ve got it bad, man. And for someone who just waltzed into your life, no less.” He leans against the bar and points at his left eye, his amusement clear. “Trust me, I know infatuation when I see it. Face it, Kensington.” He whistles, his brows rising. “Cupid’s shot you right in your frozen heart.”

“Cupid, mate?” Derision colours my tone. “What a load of…”

The denial I’m set to spout evaporates when I spot a purple-encased mobile lying on the ground beside the bar. An inkling tickles my nape. Before I retrieve the device, I already know it’s Sadie’s, an Easter egg she unknowingly left behind after spilling her handbag. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I snatch it up, Grant and my head of security studying my every move.

In my grasp, the cracked screen flashes to life, and for the second time tonight, my world stops. Every muscle in my body freezes, leaving me standing stock-still, my gaze helplessly affixed to the photo of Sadie that stares back, a perfect picture of nothing but pure, unfiltered happiness.

In it, she’s wearing a simple blue vest, her hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. Against her chest, she holds a tiny, sleeping piglet, its head tucked into her neck, looking more content than most humans ever will.

The sight of her, so natural and unburdened, further pierces the facade of my usually steadfast composure. If Grant hadn’t already pegged my burgeoning fixation, he would now. There’s so much about Sadie’s lovely smile, about the way her eyes light up, that makes me think of my mother.

It only deepens the draw I feel to her.

I scrub my palm across my jaw, still examining the photo, unable to break my focus. The longer I stare at the frozen snapshot, the more enthralling she becomes. Radiating unfiltered sunshine, she once again reminds me she’s everything that my dreary, high-rise world isn’t.

It’s now I realise I straddle a precipice.

A life-altering choice has to be made.

Either I pursue Sadie with everything I have, or I let her go, leaving her to possibly be claimed and cherished by another man. That’s if she hasn’t been already. My jaw clenches, nearing the point of fracturing at the thought. Flesh nearly igniting with fury, I’m perilously close to setting my suit on fire.

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