Page 30 of One Weekend in London

I’ve died and gone to Southern belle heaven.

As Rhys guides me onto his yacht—a sleek, white vessel that screams luxury—my jaw nearly hits the polished teak deck. The gentle rocking beneath my feet sends a thrill careening through me, the breeze rolling off the Thames’s waters gentle as can be.

The beauty of this place is unmatched.

Eyes wide, I stand on the main deck of the boat, slowly taking in the plush seating areas that fill the space, accented by gleaming art fixtures, and white orchids contained in glossy black vases.

“When you said you had another surprise for me, I wasn’t expecting this.” I gesture to the pristine furniture, as if it has never been sat on, and floor-to-ceiling glass. “Like, at all.”

Rhys chuckles, guiding me deeper into the boat. “I aim to impress.”

I lean into where he stands at my side, his strong arm banded around me, relishing the solid strength of his body against mine. “Then consider your mission downright accomplished.”

I can’t even imagine how much this all costs.

Probably six figures just for the furniture...

The scene from earlier at the hotel flashes through my mind, muddying my previous thoughts. I snap my mouth shut with an audible clank.

I wonder...

Glancing up at Rhys, I bite my bottom lip, shifting uncomfortably. I’m not sure I should ask the questions I’m interested to know, yet I do so anyway. What can I say? It seems I’ve come down with a case of the nosy bug.

Just call me Snoopin’ Sadie.

“So, about what that girl said back at the hotel. You know, the teenage paparazzi.” I can’t help but smile because even now, when I think of her, I think of Tasha. “Is it true? Are you really a billionaire?”

His gaze meets mine, unflinching.

“I am.”

Huh. Never met one of those before. “Well then. Guess I should’ve figured, what with your fancy hotel and all.”

I’m sure it’s not the only property he owns. In fact, I’d bet everything I have—which, when compared to Rhys, admittedly isn’t much—he owns more real estate than Papaw does cows and chickens combined.

And that’s saying something.

“But just so you know, the size of your bank account doesn’t matter to me.” I shrug, truly uncaring of his monetary status. It’s his heart I’m interested in—not his financial portfolio. “I’ve dated a well-off man before, and we both know how that turned out.”

Rhys’s jaw clenches at the mention of my ex, but he quickly smooths his expression, quick to regain control. “I assure you, I’m nothing like that wanker. When I commit to something—or someone—it’s with everything I have. No exceptions.”

The intensity in his eyes steals my breath. Quite literally. I have to look away and focus on the white leather sofa before me, my cheeks heating to keep it together.

I take a breath before glancing back his way.

“I’m starting to see that.”

“It’s high time you did.”

Winking down at me, he leads me to a beautiful black table situated near a gas fireplace. At its wooden center, tucked between monogramed place settings for two, a riot of pale pink peonies spills from a crystal vase.

Drawn to them like a bumblebee to pollen, I can’t resist leaning in to inhale their sweetly floral scent—one that reminds me of Mamaw’s beloved flower garden back home.

“These are gorgeous.”

A shadow flickers across Rhys’s face as he pulls out a chair, like the perfect gentleman he’s proving to be, and waits for me to take my seat. The darkness is there, morphing his expression.

But then, in an instant, it’s gone.

---