Striking (Red Lips & White Lies Book 7)

One day you’re going to meet the reason you never settled, and it will all make sense.

—Bellamy’s Secret Thoughts

The next few days pass in a blur. Rhys has been gone most of the days and nights, dealing with the upheaval. And me . . . well, I’ve split my time between studying, which I can now confidently say I’ve nailed, digging into the foundation, which I’m still working my way through, and my newest form of studying with my one-on-one tutor, Lady Josselyn Armstrong. Strangely, I think understanding the delicate balance of Mornea may be more difficult than my boards.

According to Joss, she doesn’t like anyone, and she’s assured me I shouldn’t either.

Apparently, the royal crowd is a bunch of cunts.

Her words, not mine.

Trust no one seems to be a theme.

No one but her, Clara, Silas, Remi, and of course Atticus and Rhys.

Not that I’ve met many others. Not yet. Although she did take me shopping yesterday. I tried to tell her I didn’t need anything. She ignored me. That seems to be a bit of a trend.

Today we’re at the spa, being waxed, trimmed, treated, and blown out. Something I wasn’t especially interested in, but Joss insisted.

“No one is even going to see me.” I sound like a petulant child. Lovely.

“Oh, you sweet summer child . . .” She lowers her voice enough so only I can hear and sighs. “The entire world is going to be looking in the blink of an eye. Part of your job is to be ready for the blink.”

My heart sinks like a lead balloon.

The entire world.

Because I married the king.

When I was drunk . . . My mother will be so proud.

After what feels like a lifetime, I’m finally spun around to face the mirror, and I don’t recognize the face staring back at me. Maybe this one time, Joss was right because it’s like looking at myself through a Snapchat filter. My skin looks impeccable. My hair is shiny and soft, with the perfect amount of bounce. “Wow. I look . . .”

Joss smiles over my shoulder. “You were already stunning, Bellamy. But now you look like a queen.”

I meet her gaze through the mirror, and a devious smile slides into place. “Now, let’s go grab cocktails. Clara’s working, and I miss my girl.” She yanks the hairdresser’s cape from around my neck and pulls me to my feet. “Plus, I’m wearing some of my new lingerie and feeling needy.”

“Joss,” I giggle as we get into the waiting car, and a tiny flicker of jealousy creeps in. Rhys has crawled into his bed late every night this week. He always pulls me against him, and we wake up wrapped up in each other, but nothing has happened. He showers and leaves before I’ve even gotten out of bed. The pull is there. The electricity between us is insane. But we seem to be at a standstill.

“Don’t Joss me. You’re going home to Rhys Windsor. He has a reputation for a reason. If I wasn’t in love with Clara, I’d be jealous.”

Great.

I married a reformed manwhore.

Shame I didn’t know him before his reformation.

Just my luck.

I stare at my phone like it’s a snake about to strike. If I don’t answer, I wouldn’t put it past Caitlin to get my brothers involved. But I can’t tell her what’s going on and ask her to keep it from her husband. Not when it’s this big. And telling her husband is like taking out a billboard on Main Street in Kroydon Hills. That phone tree will be activated faster than you can say Long live the king.

I snap a selfie with the date filter on it and send it off to her.

Not technically a lie. I’m kinda hoping it does involve some crazy eventually.

I drop the phone to the sofa as the door opens, and something in my chest settles when Rhys walks through. “Hey.”

He loosens his tie and drops his suit coat to the chair. His eyes look haunted as he rakes them over me.

“Are you okay?” I slide over and make room for him next to me, and thankfully, he takes me up on the invitation.

Looking straight ahead, Rhys props his long legs up on the coffee table and drops his head back to the couch. “No one was prepared for this shit show. Dealing with Parliament is like dealing with a bunch of whiney toddlers. The high council fucking sucks. My father is a goddamned asshole. And tomorrow, we bury the best man I ever met.” He turns my way, and his eyes soften as he pushes my hair away from my face. “You are exquisite.” He drags his eyes down my body, and his smile heats. “I fucking love seeing you in my clothes, little bee.”

When he looks at me, I feel beautiful in a way I’ve never felt before. Rhys is good at that. Giving you all his attention. “Thanks.” I feel the flush creeping up my cheeks. “Joss and I spent the afternoon getting my hair and makeup done. Apparently, I needed help.”

“Fuck that.” In an incredibly hot move, I’m lifted from my spot on the couch and am suddenly straddling his thighs. Rhys’s fingers bite into my hips in a delicious hold I can’t help but feel along every single inch of my skin. “You want to know what I thought the first time we met?”

“Ouch would be my first guess,” I laugh.

That earns me a carefree smile. The first I’ve seen since we woke up married. “Before you turned a textbook into a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Not mass.” I unbutton his top button, then another, needing to touch him. To feel him. To take away some of the stress lining his eyes. “You were the only person I was trying to destroy. I thought you were a murderer.”

“Before you nearly concussed me, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. From the first moment I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. It was like you’d been placed right in front of me, making it impossible for me to miss the next big thing in my life. You took my breath away before you nearly knocked me out.”

My heart stutters inside my chest as Rhys stares at me like he can see straight into my soul.

“No one has ever said anything like that to me before.” I slide his tie off him and run my hands under his shirt, digging my fingers into the tight muscles bunching in his neck.

“They’re all fucking idiots then.” His hands slide around my waist and drag me closer. “Do you have any idea what sleeping next to you every night has done to me?”

I shake my head silently, unable to speak as the first flames of need lick up my body.

“I’ve gotten myself off in the shower every morning and still walked around all week with a permanent case of blue balls.” His hand moves under the sweatshirt I stole from his closet earlier and slides up my rib cage, stopping just shy of where I’m desperate to have his touch. “I had Joss buy you every imaginable piece of lingerie, but I swear to God, you in my clothes, even three sizes too big, is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Rhys . . .” His name is a needy plea falling from my lips. “I didn’t know . . . I thought . . .”

His thumb sweeps the underside of my breast, and I suck in a breath, feeling that caress down to the very tips of my toes. “I wasn’t going to attack you in your sleep, love.”

“I’m not asleep now.” I pop another button on his shirt.

“Thank fucking God.”