Chapter 11

Sheryl's POV

I stretched lazily as morning sunlight filtered through the windows. My hand instinctively reached for Rhett's side of the bed, finding nothing but cool sheets. He was already gone.

This was becoming a pattern lately—waking up alone, wondering where he'd disappeared to.

Wrapping myself in a silk robe, I padded downstairs to find Martha bustling around the kitchen. She looked up as I entered, her face immediately settling into that warm smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hayes. Breakfast will be ready momentarily."

I scanned the dining room, noticing Rhett's absence. "When did Rhett leave?"

Martha nodded, setting down a steaming cup of coffee. "Mr. Hayes left quite early, ma'am. Didn't take breakfast."

"He can starve for all I care," I muttered, and then asked casually, "Did he mention where he was going?"

"No, ma'am. Just that he had business downtown."

I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Rhett: [Go wherever the hell you want, but you BETTER show up by 4 PM and go to the Ross mansion with me. If not, I'm taking a baseball bat to your precious car collection.]

I hit send, imagining his face when he read it. For all his tough-guy act, Rhett treated those cars like they were his children.

After breakfast, I retreated to the study, pondering design schemes for the new project. Then I suddenly remembered that last night, in my anger, I had forgotten to ask him about why he suddenly wanted to work with Glamour Realm.

Occasionally, my mind wandered to the upcoming dinner at my father's house. Robert would put on his fake caring act, and Christine and her daughter would undoubtedly find new ways to turn my stomach.

By two in the afternoon, after a brief rest, I suddenly remembered Timothy—my adorable little half-brother had been begging for new toys the last time I saw him. Despite the perpetual tension with my stepmother, I couldn't help but adore Timothy. He was the only pure thing in the Ross household.

I called for a car and headed to the mall, texting Rhett to pick me up at four.

In the toy department, I carefully selected a transforming robot and an elaborate building block set. Timothy would love them both. I paid extra for gift wrapping, picturing his excited face when he unwrapped them.

By the time I finished, it was nearly four o'clock. I made my way to the mall entrance, shopping bags in hand, to wait for Rhett.

A small flower shop near the entrance caught my eye. As I waited, a well-dressed stranger approached me, holding a small bunch of pink roses.

"For a beautiful lady," he said with a practiced smile. "Would you do me the honor of accepting these?"

I forced an awkward smile. "Thank you, but I'm married."

He persisted, "It's merely an appreciation of beauty. Please don't refuse." Before I could protest further, he pressed the flowers into my hand and walked away quickly.

Just then, a sleek black Porsche pulled up to the curb. The windows were tinted, but I instantly recognized Rhett's car. I gathered my packages and the unwanted flowers, heading toward the vehicle.

I tried the passenger door, but it was locked. I tapped on the window with my fingers, but received no response. What was he doing? Just as I was about to turn away, the window slid down, revealing Rhett's thunderous expression.

He leaned across the passenger seat and snatched the flowers from my hand, hurling them to the ground with such force that petals scattered across the pavement.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked, genuinely shocked by his childish display.

"Sheryl, you're so fucking cheap," he growled, his voice dangerously low. "A few goddamn flowers and you're all smiles and blushes?"

"Are you blind? We have better flowers at home," he continued, his jaw clenched tight. "What if someone planted a listening device or a bomb in there? You'd just happily accept it?"

I stared at him for a moment before understanding dawned. My lips curved into a teasing smile. "Rhett, are you jealous because another man gave me flowers?"

His eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't flatter yourself."

"You are!" I laughed. "The great Rhett Hayes is actually jealous over some random guy and his cheap roses."

Watching his expression darken further, I couldn't resist pushing him. I dramatically tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and sighed theatrically. "God, it's so exhausting having men give me flowers every day."

His eyes flashed dangerously. The next second, the engine roared to life and the Porsche shot away from the curb, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust.

Standing on the busy sidewalk, I watched his car disappear into traffic, feeling both irritated and amused. Was Rhett Hayes actually jealous? The man who claimed our marriage was nothing but a business arrangement?

As I reached for my phone to call for a driver, I heard the familiar growl of his engine approaching. The Porsche screeched to a halt in front of me, causing several pedestrians to jump back.

Rhett kicked the passenger door open. "Get in," he commanded, his expression stormy.

I didn't budge, holding my ground.

"Sheryl," he warned, his voice dropping an octave. "Get. In. Now."

Seeing the genuine anger in his eyes, I decided not to push my luck further. I slid into the passenger seat without another word.

As soon as I settled in, his cold presence enveloped me. The car smelled of his cologne and leather, a combination I'd grown to associate with both comfort and danger.

We sat in tense silence for a moment, the air between us electric.

"Sheryl, do you have a death wish?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I met his gaze unflinchingly, still unable to resist one last jab. "What's wrong? Jealous, Hayes?"

Before I could finish, he surged forward, pinning me against the seat. One hand braced against the headrest behind me, the other gripping my chin firmly. His face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips.

"Rhe—mmph..."

My words were cut off as his lips crashed against mine, dominant and possessive. There was nothing gentle about this kiss—it was a claim, a punishment, a warning. His fingers threaded through my hair, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard. His eyes had darkened from anger to something else entirely.

"Don't ever accept flowers from another man again," he said, his voice rough.

I couldn't help the smirk that formed on my lips. "Or what?"

A dangerous smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Or I'll make sure you won't be able to walk out of this car, let alone to any flower shops."