Brothers of Paradise Series

Rhys’s hand is knuckled around his fork. “Circumstances changed.”

“They did, yes. But to answer your question, Ivy, we stayed in touch.” He raises an eyebrow to Rhys. “And he critiqued my travel ads and promotional material one time too many, saying that they were soulless… so I hired him.”

“That does sound like him,” I say. Ben laughs and Rhys shoots me a look, one that’s equal parts amused and annoyed. But not at me, I think.

No, neither of us had planned on having dinner with someone else tonight.

Rhys’s phone rings, and he scoots back to turn it off. But then he sees the name on the screen-I catch a glimpse, too. Lily. “I should take this,” he says, looking at me and Ben. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben says, waving a hand good-naturedly.

He nods to my plate of lamb when we’re alone. “Enjoying the food?”Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

“It’s delicious. A good choice of restaurant.”

He nods, reaching for his wine. “I’m glad we got this chance to have dinner together. Your face might be the one I’ll see for years, you know, whenever we put together new brochures or video ads. I’m happy to know a bit more about the person behind the image.”

“And after having seen your hotels, I’m happy to be part of it,” I say. “You have some terrific staff. They’ve really made this whole trip a joy.”

“You’re good,” Ben says, nodding at me. “Very good.”

“Sorry?”

“That would make an excellent testimonial.”

I laugh politely. “Well, it’s the truth.”

“Even so, I’m happy to hear it. Truthfully, I’m impressed by what the two of you are doing. Traveling this much in such a short period of time is taxing.” He raises his fork, chewing. “Trust me, I know. I do it often.”

“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “But it’s been an adventure.”

“You’re not a complainer,” he notes, leaning back in his chair. “I admire that. And, judging by what I saw earlier, it seems like the two of you get along famously now.”

My cheeks scald, but I don’t turn away from his gaze. “We’ve gotten to know one another, yes.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed about that. He’s charming,” Ben says, slicing through his lamb. “It happens.”

“Right, yes. I’m sure it does.”

“He never could resist a model, either.” Ben chuckles.

I reach for my glass of wine, at a loss for what to say. My fingers are tense on the stem. Time has flowed irregularly on this trip. With only one another for company in the face of so much travel, it feels like I’ve known Rhys for months. But that familiarity is false. It’s only been two weeks, and with Ben here, that knowledge sharpens into a blade.

The owner and CEO of Rieler Travels doesn’t look at me to see how his words landed. I wonder if he, too, can’t resist a model. Like we’re a species and not a profession.

“I’m sorry about that.” Rhys’s voice is deep, a hand on the back of my chair as he sits down.

“Not to worry,” Ben says. “Gave me the perfect opportunity to get to know Ivy a bit better.”

He raises his glass and I raise mine. Rhys joins, but sends me a questioning look. He doesn’t seem fooled by my returning smile.

The sun has long since set when Rhys and I walk back to the Rieler hotel in Sydney in silence. With half the interiors still under construction, we’re two of the first guests to stay there.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other like that,” I say. It comes out like an accusation, my arms wrapping around my torso.

Rhys’s hand lands on my lower back, his other unlocking the door to his hotel suite. The mirror image to my own, it looks just like all the other Rieler suites we’ve stayed in these weeks. Same color scheme. Same furniture.

“We’re friendly,” he acknowledges, leaning against the wall. “Ivy, he’s not going to make a big deal about seeing us kiss. I promise you that.”

My shoes dig into the plush carpet as I pace. “You can’t promise that. No one can. Rhys, this is what gives models in my business a reputation. Sleeping with photographers.”

His jaw tenses. “I’m aware. Trust me, I am. If I’d had a clue he would be here…”

“It’s just so embarrassing.” I sink down onto the edge of his giant hotel bed, kicking off my sneakers. “He’s the head of a company that’s hired me. He hired my agency.”

Rhys tugs off his jacket. Runs a hand through his hair, and sits down next to me, close enough that our bodies are touching shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh.

“Ben’s knowledge doesn’t change anything,” he says.

I reach for his hand. He lets me take it, holding it in both of mine on my lap. “I’m not the first model you’ve slept with, right?”

His hand closes around my fingers. “Where did that come from?”

“Ben mentioned something to that effect.”

Rhys groans. “He has never known how to be tactful.”

A sinking feeling in my stomach. It’s true, then. It shouldn’t matter. We’re not anything, not really. And yet it feels like it does.

“Ivy,” Rhys says, turning to face me. His free hand curves around my cheek. “You know I wasn’t a virgin before I met you.”

My cheeks flush again, this time in mortification. “I know that. I never expected you to be. But considering you made your low opinions of models so clear…”

He’s shaking his head before I finish my sentence, a furrow between his dark brows. “I have dated women who worked in modeling, yes. And I’ll readily admit that what I’ve seen of the industry, or the concerns of those women, didn’t… well. I didn’t have a high opinion about all of it before I met you.”

“So you slept with models, but you didn’t respect them?”

“Christ, Ivy.” He pulls his hand back from mine and rises, walking in front of me where I sit on the bed. Tension radiates from his form. “Yes, I’ve had a fair share of casual sex. Most sex I’ve ever had, truthfully, has been casual. But I’ve never deceived anyone. It’s never been anything but honest. The models you’re referring to? They gained things from me, too.”

I track his familiar features. The thick, dark fall of his hair. The tanned skin and broad shoulders. Hands that have long fingers and broad backs, made to pitch tents and take photographs and drink wine.

“I understand,” I murmur. “I do, Rhys.”

He pauses in front of me, dark green eyes swimming. “My past has no bearing on what happened between us.”

“I know,” I say, reaching for him. He steps closer almost reluctantly, not relenting until I tug him down beside me on the bed. We stretch out next to one another like we’ve done so often in the past week.

“I’d rather you ask me,” he says. “Whatever you’re thinking. Even if it’s ludicrous. Especially if it’s ludicrous.”