Chapter 9

Rhett's POV

Twenty minutes later, Daniel reported back to me that the scandal had been handled. Since Sheryl had left me this "gift," I figured it was only fair to return the favor. I headed back to the bedroom to change. I selected a charcoal gray suit, adjusting the cuffs with practiced precision.

Today, I was making a rare appearance at the office.

The staff at Hayes Enterprise would be shocked—for years, I'd carefully cultivated the image of Rhett Hayes, the trust fund playboy who couldn't be bothered with actual business. The wayward son who spent his days drinking expensive scotch and his nights in exclusive clubs. The heir who lived off his father's legacy rather than adding to it.

Only a select few knew the truth.

As I knotted my tie, my eyes drifted to Sheryl's side of the bed. She'd already left for work hours ago, but I could still picture her sleeping form from last night. I'd carefully examined the bruise on her knee, something primal stirring inside me at the sight of her injured skin. I'd pressed my lips against it when she was sleeping, a gesture of tenderness I'd never allow myself when she was awake.

Her words from our argument still echoed in my mind. "I want a divorce." The first time she'd ever said it out loud. Our marriage might have started as a business arrangement between families, and perhaps for her, it remained nothing more. Maybe she didn't hate me, but she certainly didn't love me either.

For me, the "arranged marriage" excuse was complete bullshit. If I hadn't wanted her, I would never have agreed to it. But I couldn't show her how I felt—couldn't risk that vulnerability. The only connection I allowed myself was physical, using sex to bind her to me. Was even that growing thin? Perhaps I needed to give her more reasons to stay, to stop thinking about leaving.

I drove through the morning traffic toward the financial district, where Hayes Tower dominated the skyline.

My mind drifted back to how I'd handled James last night. When I saw the bruise on Sheryl's knee, something had snapped inside me. A white-hot rage that threatened to consume everything in its path. Nobody hurts her. Especially not some puffed-up asshole who thought Hayes protection extended to harming my wife. I had him beaten badly on the spot. By now, he'd be in intensive care, learning a painful lesson about consequences.

As for Luxe Gems, I'd already cut off all financial support and begun dissolving its assets.

Nothing ever felt like enough when it came to Sheryl.

When my car pulled up in front of Hayes Tower, security guards and receptionists couldn't hide their surprise. Some of them probably hadn't seen me in person for years.

"Good morning, Mr. Hayes!" The receptionist jumped to her feet, clearly flustered.

I acknowledged her with a slight nod and headed straight for the elevator. Ten minutes later, I was settled in the top-floor office, waiting for Evan Donovan to arrive.

After dealing with James last night, I'd immediately called the founder of Glamour Realm. Three years ago, Evan's only son had been kidnapped by a business rival. During one of my operations, I'd discovered the boy and rescued him, ensuring the kidnapper would never harm anyone again. Evan had been pathetically grateful ever since.

The elevator doors slid open, and Evan hurried in. He was in his fifties, silver-haired but energetic, wearing the nervous smile of a man summoned by someone who could destroy his business with a phone call.

"Rhett! Your call was quite a surprise," he said, shaking my hand enthusiastically. "I never thought I'd see you set foot in Hayes Tower."

"Even I have to pretend to be a businessman occasionally," I gestured for him to sit. "I've reviewed your quarterly reports. Not bad."

Evan smiled. "Without your initial investment, Glamour Realm wouldn't be where it is today."

"I provide capital and collect dividends. You handle operations. It's a simple arrangement." I poured him a whiskey, not bothering to ask if he wanted one. "I called you here to discuss a new project."

"I'm all ears."

"I'm developing a new luxury retail space in Back Bay. The entire ground floor will be dedicated to high-end jewelry, including an exclusive exhibition area for designer showcases." I handed him a folder containing preliminary plans. "I want Glamour Realm to design the premiere collection. And I want Sheryl Ross in charge of it."

Evan's eyebrows shot up as he leafed through the documents. "This is... ambitious. The scale alone would make it the most prestigious jewelry exhibition in Boston."

"That's the idea."

"And you specifically want Sheryl?"

"I've followed her work. Her aesthetic sensibility matches exactly what this project needs." I kept my voice neutral, businesslike. "Is that a problem?"

Evan gave me a knowing look. He was among the few who knew Sheryl was my wife, though I'd explicitly instructed him never to reveal this knowledge to her.

"Not at all," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "This would be an extraordinary opportunity for Glamour Realm. I'll personally speak with Sheryl about leading the project."

"Remember, keep it strictly professional. Don't let her know about our connection." I added.

"Of course, I completely understand." Evan nodded solemnly. "But Rhett, I have to say, what you're doing—"

"I have my reasons," I cut him off. "We're done here. The contract will be delivered to your office tomorrow."

After Evan left, I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over Boston's skyline. As the controlling owner of Luxe Gems's parent company, I shared some responsibility. This project was just a small compensation.

More importantly, since she'd mentioned divorce, I'd realized I'd been neglecting her. Besides our limited time together in bed, we barely communicated. This project would create more opportunities for contact, keep her busy with work, and hopefully distract her from thoughts of leaving.

I pulled out my phone and checked a new message. This woman was always causing complications. Were it not for my mistake a year ago and her usefulness in deflecting unwanted attention for now, she'd be long gone.

With a sigh, I left the office and headed for the parking garage.