Chapter 16

But instead of throwing a punch, Rhys took a deep breath and said, ‘We need to talk.’ I relaxed fractionally and plonked myself down on a bench in the waiting area. I wasn’t going anywhere till Aunt Louisa came out of surgery. If Rhys wanted to talk, he could crack on. I was fully prepared to ignore every syllable. He sat next to me and lowered his voice. ‘I need you to… do something for me.’ I kept my eyes glued to the neon-red sign above the operating room door that screamed Surgery In Progress. Rhys went on. ‘Look, I’m sorry I lost my temper that day and… hurt you. I apologise.’ I turned my head slowly, like I was checking if I’d just hallucinated him saying that. Rhys Granger, apologising? Was he ill? Had the aliens finally replaced him with a half-decent human clone? ‘I’m sorry about how things turned out,’ he said. ‘I wish we could work something out. Mum was really upset when she found out we’d had a fight—’ ‘We didn’t just have a fight, Rhys. We broke up.’ I cut in before he could romanticise it into a bloody rom-com misunderstanding. He let out a heavy exhale. ‘Yeah, I know. But Mum doesn’t.’ I blinked. ‘You didn’t tell her?’ ‘I said we’d had a fight. That we were, like, on a break. She told me to fix it. She thinks I’m the one who messed up and I’m supposed to win you back with flowers or whatever.’ I didn’t respond. Mostly because I was too busy mentally filing this under You Cannot Make This Shit Up. Rhys leaned closer. ‘Look, I know it’s a massive favour, but… would you still be my fiancée? Just for now. Just till Mum’s feeling better. I need time to, you know, ease her into the idea of me and Catherine.’ Ah, there it was. The cherry on top of the bullshittery sundae. Rhys wanted me to play pretend fiancée while he canoodled with Catherine behind the scenes. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said, once my brain caught up with the sheer absurdity of it all. ‘I can pay you,’ he added like he was doing me a favour. ‘Get you a job at my company, or literally anywhere else in the city. A flat, money, jewellery—whatever you want.’ ‘You seriously think I’m going to play house with you just so you can keep lying to your mum?’ I stared at him like he’d grown a second head. A dumber one. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I’d literally come up with the exact same plan to get my parents off my back. But somehow, when he suggested it, it made my skin crawl. Maybe that made me a hypocrite. Or maybe it just meant I still had some shred of self-respect left, which was more than I could say for him. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask,’ he pressed on, because of course he did. Rhys never took no for an answer, at least not from me. His voice sped up like he was trying to close a deal before his mum came out of surgery. Which only made it worse. His mum had just been in a car crash and he was already out here, scheming how to manipulate her feelings. The man had balls, I’d give him that. ‘But this works out well for you too, doesn’t it?’ he pushed on, absolutely committed to his little pitch. ‘Your parents are pressuring you to go date that guy—what’s his name? The one you clearly can’t stand. But if we’re still engaged, they’ll back off. You get your peace, I get mine. Win-win.’ He actually had the gall to smile. ‘I won’t interfere in your life,’ he added. ‘You can date whoever you want, just keep it quiet. My parents can’t find out. And I swear it won’t take long. A couple of months, tops, then I’ll—’ ‘Then you’ll what?’ I snapped, barely keeping my voice low enough not to get escorted out by hospital security. ‘You’ll finally grow a backbone and tell your parents that your great romance with Catherine’s been bubbling away this whole time and you’ve been feeding them lies like a goddamn vending machine?’ My voice was shaking. Not from nerves—more like pure rage. I shot up from the bench. ‘This is not the place for this. Come with me.’ ‘Wait, where are you going?’ Rhys stood too, annoyed. But he followed me anyway as I stormed into the stairwell. I checked for witnesses, cameras, and possibly the ghost of a nosy janitor. Once the coast was clear, I shut the door behind us. Rhys shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, impatient. ‘We need to settle this fast. My dad’s on his way, I need to—’ I turned on him so fast he flinched. The light in the stairwell was grim and flickery, like it belonged in a crime documentary re-enactment, but it didn’t do much to dent Rhys’s model-groomed hair or perfectly symmetrical face. His custom suit clung to his body like it had been stitched on by a thirsty tailor. He looked like the total package. Handsome. Rich. Confident. Shame the warranty had expired on his decency. I raised my hand, then paused. A slap would’ve felt amazing but would’ve left a mark, and Clive Granger was due to show up any second. No way was I letting this turn into an episode of Law & Order: Pretentious Pricks Unit. So I switched tactics. I leaned in slowly, looping my arms around Rhys’s neck like I was about to kiss him. He blinked, confused, but still smug enough to think he was winning. ‘What are you—?’ That’s all he managed before I drove my knee straight into his gut. His breath left him like air from a punctured bouncy castle. Eyes wide, mouth gaping, Rhys folded like a bad poker hand. I let go and stepped back. ‘Since you seem to struggle with the word “no”, that was my answer to your hare-brained little proposal,’ I said, while he continued to wheeze. ‘I’m not going to help you lie to Louisa. You want to confess your undying love for Catherine? Great. Find another way to do it. But leave me the hell out of it.’ Still doubled over, he made a pathetic grab for my arm, but I was already out of reach. ‘You… bitch! You’ll regret this!’