Page 34 of Rhys

Bringing her gaze back around to Rhys, she thought to herself…

Especially you.

8

Two days later…

Rhys waited impatientlyfor Vanessa to come out of her room. The hotel Trace had put them in was nice. Like really,reallynice.

The two-bedroom suite was as big as his condo, if not bigger, and probably cost more for one night than a month’s worth of his rent. But as he paced the room’s large living area, the only thing Rhys could think of was the woman getting ready in the other room.

He glanced at his watch for what felt like the millionth time, wondering if she was going to be ready when Parker came to pick her up.

Fucking Parker Collins.

Arrogant and cocky as hell, he had the looks—and the bank account balance—to back it up. But, from what he’d seen during their interaction a few months back, Rhys had to admit he was a fairly decent guy.

Of course, that didn’t mean Rhys had to be happy about this crazy plan.

He glanced at the closed door again. For the past two days, he and Vanessa had barely had any time to themselves. The majority of their hours had been spent going over the layout of Austin’s nauseatingly large mansion and coming up with a solid plan to get her in and out without incident. Once the plan was in place, they went through it again and again, and then they went over it some more.

Like Trace had been with him, Rhys wasn’t about to take any chances. Not with so much on the line.

Not with her.

The door to her separate bedroom opened. Turning in that direction, Rhys caught sight of her standing in the doorway. Only the woman staring back at him wasn’t his Vanessa.

She’s not yours, dipshit. Not anymore.

Fine. Whatever. The point was, in an hour’s time she’d completely transformed herself into someone else.

The Vanessa he knew had long, wavy red hair and emerald green eyes. The woman walking toward him now had short, straight black hair with sharp bangs, and her eyes…

Her eyes had become a dark, dark chocolate.

She looked stunning, of course. But Rhys still preferred her in her natural form. Natural…naked…however he could get her. Not that he’d had her since their unexpected reunion.

Not yet, anyway.

But there was still hope, and he wasn’t giving up on that front. Now that he knew the truth about her—about everything—Rhys found himself fighting the urge to take her into his arms…

And into his bed.

“Wow.”

A smile spread across her gorgeous face. “I can’t tell if means you approve, or you’re disappointed.”

Unable to speak again just yet, Rhys stepped closer. Letting his gaze fall, his mouth became suddenly dry as he took in the way her floor length dress hugged her tempting curves. It was strapless, the plunging neckline showing enough cleavage he’d be surprised if any man in attendance would bother looking at her face.

She’d gotten a matching red shawl—or pashmina as she’d called it—to wrap around her bare shoulders, concealing the still-healing bullet wound. From the casual way she had it draped around her shoulders, you’d never know she had a thing wrong with her.

And then there were her shoes.

Rhys was confident if he were to look up fuck-me heels in the dictionary, there would be a picture of those exact ones where the definition should be.

Lord have mercy.

“So.” Vanessa spun slowly on the balls of her heels so he could see the whole delicious package. “What do you think?

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