Chapter 4Three Meetings Left With The Devil

I quickly wrapped myself in a robe and sprinted toward the men’s spa.

Rhys had just finished and was toweling his wet, short hair as he walked. I stopped in front of him, bent over, catching my breath. I was about to look up to check his number, but my gaze somehow lingered on his bare chest for too long.

He finally broke the silence, scoffing. “Running that fast? Did a ghost chase you?”

Normally, I’d have a sharp retort ready. But when I saw the unmoving 2 above his head, I didn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment, and I couldn't speak.

What exactly did I need to do to make the number shoot up?

The thought stopped me cold. Was the idea of seeing Rhys only twice more that upsetting to me? Was I really trying this desperately to change it?

The thought of him facing an accident made my heart sink. I quickly stepped closer to him.

“Rhys Montgomery, we’re sleeping here tonight. Don’t go back. Tomorrow is Saturday; you don’t have to clock in at Montgomery Industries. What do you say?”

Just as I was racking my brain for a way to convince him to share a room, he reached out and touched my head.

“Sure. And not just tomorrow, Savannah. I won’t need to be the CEO of Montgomery Industries anymore.”

I froze, sure I heard him wrong. I looked up and saw Rhys watching me with a complex expression.

He was tall, handsome, with eyes that could charm the devil. He was brilliant and capable. Every time he smiled, I felt like he was a cunning fox about to cause trouble. He was also a master of telling terrifying ghost stories. That’s why, since high school, I’d done my best to avoid him.

Yet, the Finches and the Montgomerys were business partners for decades. Rhys and I were constantly in each other’s orbits.

When he said he was quitting, I instinctively grabbed his wrist, a thread of panic in my voice. “What do you mean? Bored of being CEO? Want to try the common life?”

Rhys looked down, his gaze fixed on my hand gripping his wrist. He didn’t speak for a long moment.

It was then that the 2 above his head suddenly jumped to 10!

I blinked, confirming I hadn’t imagined it. Holding hands made the meeting count go up? What was the logic here?

Instinctively, I reached for his other hand and grasped it tightly.

Rhys’s eyes moved slightly, and the number above him jumped again—to 15.

I threw caution to the wind. I let go and pulled him into a full-body hug. The rhythmic pounding in my chest vibrated against his. I closed my eyes, counted to five, and released him. I looked up.

—30!

Exponential growth!

Before my smile fully formed, and before I could proceed to the next step, Rhys’s fingers gently pinched my chin.

“Savannah Finch.”

His voice held a hint of warning, and his eyes had grown darker. I held my breath, my smile freezing on my lips.

“What exactly is on the top of my head that you keep staring at all day?”