Rhea stepped out of her room just as Adrian was walking past her door. Her eyes swept over him bit by bit, taking him in from head to toe. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt that clung to his biceps and a pair of black pants.
When her gaze was moving back up, she caught sight of something that made her stomach dip, then she quickly looked away and shut her door a little harder than necessary.
God!
This was a temptation.
A big one.
How could her mother bring a man like Adrian into the house and then leave her alone with him?
She cleared her throat, trying to push the thought away, and started down the hallway while Adrian fell in steps beside her easily.
"Don't you think we oughta get to know each other?" he asked, his voice warm and easy. "Nia didn't really get the chance to introduce us properly."
Rhea only gave him a quick glance before looking ahead again.
"You're Adrian Cross," she said. "Thirty-five. An orphan who grew up in Asheville. You worked your way through school, and now you're a professional artist and photographer."
Adrian raised his brows in surprise and nodded slowly. "I reckon Nia's told you plenty 'bout me, but I don't rightly know nothin' 'bout you 'cept your name."
Rhea stopped abruptly, flipped her dark ginger hair over her shoulder, and looked at him coldly. "That's enough to know about me, Mr. Cross. Whatever you're plotting, it's never happening. Like I said earlier, there's no way in Hades you'll ever be my stepfather," she said through gritted teeth and got on the stairs.
Adrian smiled and followed her. "But I'm already your stepdad, and nothin' can change that."
"Just for a few weeks, Adrian," Rhea stopped on the stairs and faced him. Her beautiful face contorted with anger. "You're leaving this house once my mom comes back from her trip," she said in a tone of finality and began descending the stairs when she suddenly stopped and looked back again.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? I know my mom is a beautiful woman, but what can a thirty-five-year-old painter offer a millionaire woman like her?" she asked, her eyes narrowing inquisitively.
Instead of responding, Adrian moved to where she stood on the stairs, his eyes never leaving hers, which made her feel her heart threatening to burst out of her chest or something.
He moved closer to her, and what made her heart threaten to burst even more was the way his gaze lingered on her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes.
"What do you think your mother likes about me?" Adrian asked in an extremely low voice that left Rhea speechless. Then he walked past her and as he did, he tipped her a broad wink, his arm brushing against hers. Fire sparked across her skin, and she practically jolted.
Her chest rose and fell as she kept rubbing the spot where his arm had brushed hers, watching him walk toward the dining area. She dragged her fingers through her hair, darting her gaze around as she swallowed hard, fanned her face, and blew out a shaky breath.
When she finally calmed down, she made her way down the remaining steps and headed to the dining room only for a sharp stab to hit her chest, followed instantly by a rush of fury.
The youngest servant, a woman in her early thirties, had just dropped an empty jar. Adrian caught it before it hit the floor. The maid looked up at him, smiling, and he returned the smile as he handed it back to her.
"Thank you, sir," she said with a shy smile before turning toward the kitchen.
"Now you smile with the servants? Are you that shameless?" Rhea asked, loading her voice with as much sarcasm as she could muster while she suppressed her anger and stepped fully into the dining room. She sat across from Adrian.
"What're you talkin' about, Rhea? They're folks just like anybody else." Adrian said, his eyes warm as he glanced at the food on the table. "And why's it feel like you already hate me so much?" he added, meeting her intense stare.
"I hate you. I hate you so much," Rhea said, her jaw tight as stone, her expression frosty. "And why wouldn't I hate you? You got engaged to someone you barely knew in two months, and you even moved in with her. And your smile and that stupid Appalachian dialect of yours… I hate it. It annoys me so much, and I really wish I could slap you hard across the face!"
The moment the words left her mouth, she sprang to her feet and marched out of the dining room, seething as she headed up the stairs back to her room.
"Argghh!" she shrieked, ruffling her hair in pure frustration the moment she stepped into her room.
"You're crazy, Rhea. That man is fucking driving you crazy and you're letting him!" she yelled, then threw herself onto the bed, trying to steady her heartbeat.
"I have to drive him out of this house before I lose my mind. I have to chase him away," she seethed, her nose flaring even though the pounding in her chest wouldn't die down.
Just then, her phone started ringing beside her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin from the shock.
She snatched it up and saw Victor's name on the screen. Then she took a slow breath before answering.
"Victor—" she began but Victor didn't allow her to speak before cutting her off.
"It's over between us, Rhea. So hold on to the little pride you have left and don't call me again!" Victor's cold voice transmitted into her ear.
"I got wet, Victor," she enunciated before she could think it over.
There was silence at the other end of the line, and when she was starting to think perhaps he had hung up, his voice came low.
"Who made you get wet, Rhea?"
It was then her eyes lit up with realization. Her free hand flew to her mouth as her eyes widened.
Holy crap! What the hell was she thinking?
"Answer me, Rhea. Are you seeing another man already?"