"Still working?" Feyre's voice caught him off guard as he buried himself in more reports from the people working to help him. One particular name kept popping in and out of the reports: Amarantha. He cringed whenever he saw it.
"Unfortunately," he turned and caught sight of Feyre in a small tank top and work out shorts. Cassian had been by earlier to teach her some basics in getting out of someone's hold and how to best injure an opponent with the intention of getting away. "Very unfortunately now that I see you dressed like that."
Despite the fact that Feyre had been with him all week, he was still getting used to her around the house. She slept in her room most nights though two of the nights she had ended up in his bed after nightmares had chased her from hers down the hall. He left his door open for her and promised she was always welcome to come warm him up in the middle of the night. But he still was not used to her quiet intrusions when he spent late nights in his office that took over one of the third-floor bedrooms. More or less, he wasn't used to having a reason to not work tempting him.
"Reports on Hybern or Velaris?" She asked coming to perch on the edge of his desk.
"At this point I'm starting to believe that both are connected. Az found Amarantha is the one targeting Velaris businesses with her fear campaign and fear is how she starts, but not how she ends. And since Amarantha is a Hybern employee, I'd bet every article of black clothing I own that she's doing it as part of Hybern." He reached for her and she came willingly to his lap.
"Az said that Hybern broke the spirit of his people by taking away their individuality. You sponsor artists and local businesses that are full of individuality. If he's looking to establish a foothold here and eventually overtake the land and economy, I wouldn't be surprised if he does it again." She shrugged and pulled the reports to herself. "Do you think she knows you're connected to Velaris?"
"Unlikely," he admitted. "But it still feels like she does."
"Do you want a distraction or to be left alone?" She asked finally.
"What sort of distraction are you offering me?" Rhys asked.
"Well, it's Friday night. I'm sure Mor is out at Rita's partying, we could go join her. Or we could go cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie," she suggested.
Rhys swallowed his smartass remark about sex being off the table but he had promised not to press Feyre for a physical relationship. She was affectionate with him by way of little touches and kisses but they hadn't had any steamy make out sessions or done anything but sleep in the bed when she had come to him. But having her sitting on his lap in those very short shorts had his mind slowly sliding down the gutter and lower.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked softly.
"Work," he lied. He could not have her knowing he was disappointed that she wasn't offering him to take her to his bed and ravage her again. "Why?" He glanced up at her to see her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Work is making something poke into my butt," she informed him with a straight face. "Should I be worried about something at work that is making your body react such ways?"
"Fine, I was thinking about last Saturday night and Sunday morning, and how distracting that all was," he admitted.
"And you didn't want to tell me?" She turned to face him fully, dragging her butt across his lap painfully slow so he could feel every little motion, and straddled him on the chair.
"I didn't want to push you into anything you didn't want," he whispered, finding himself suddenly breathless.
"Well, it's still early," she reminded him. "Too late to be working, but I wasn't planning on heading to bed any time soon. Perhaps we can push off that particular activity until after a movie."
"Perhaps you are underestimating how long I can drag out your pleasure," he murmured in her ear. He felt her breath hitch slightly. Then he heard the sweetest words he swore were ever known to him.
"Prove it."
It was late in the morning by the time Rhys finally dragged himself from bed. Feyre, somehow, had found the energy to get up a couple hours before him. He only had himself to blame that she wasn't still worn out. But he found her in the kitchen, occupying one of the stools at the island with a coffee in front of her, some pastry Nuala or Cerridwen had left behind, and several pieces of paper he recognized from his office. She was slowly reading through his reports. Despite the fact she was trying to do work, the whole thing was incredibly sexy. She was in just his t-shirt, her bare legs stretching down the front of the stool.
"So I can't work too late at night, can I ask that you not try and work on the weekend?" He asked. "Especially when you are wearing… just that." He came up behind her and stroked a hand down her side.
"I might be imagining it," Feyre started. "But have you noticed how Amarantha is only targeting businesses that Tamlin has tried to put out of business before?"
Rhys straightened and took the reports from Feyre to read through the lists of businesses. She was right. How she knew was a different question, but she was right about every single business being ones they had saved from Tamlin replacing with a chain store.
"Does Tamlin know you're Illyrian?" Feyre asked softly. A probing question that Rhys understood the exact meaning to. Would Tamlin tell Amarantha and Hybern how to best strike at him?
"Yes," he breathed out. "But he wouldn't know about Velaris. I never told him even when we were closer friends."
"I'm going to bet it's unrelated to you at that rate, but completely related to Tamlin. Last time Amarantha was making trouble here, she did it through you after Tamlin's father left him the business. Perhaps she's trying to get into his good graces by running out businesses he wants to replace and striking at you is just another offering to him as well." She turned in her stool. "I have a fresh pot of coffee on, I'll get you some."
"Sit, eat," he spun her back to her pastry. "I am perfectly capable of pouring my own coffee." He grinned when Feyre turned right back to the report and started scanning it again. She was smart, incredibly so. How far would she have gone if someone had taken the time to help her with her dyslexia? "How do you know which businesses Tamlin targeted?"
"I have a lot of free time between your meetings," she snorted. "I've read through the files that were put on my computer, or at least the ones about Velaris Incorporated. I'm just starting on the other ones."
Rhys nodded though he hadn't been aware she had access to any of those files. If she had them, it was that Azriel had given her authorization to see them. Most other people would take the down time to do something they wanted, but Feyre had decided to read through files though she had a hard time reading quickly.
"Feyre," he set his cup of coffee down next to hers and planted a kiss on her shoulder. Her slightly pointed ear turned toward him though her eyes were still on the report. "Let me take you out today. We could go to the art museum or explore some of the galleries in town."
"I have my art class," she murmured.
"I'll drive you there and pick you up after," he promised. "And then I'll take you out."
"I doubt anything I deem suitable to wear to an art class will be suitable for a date," she told him honestly. "I'll get covered in paint."
"Not something to worry about, Darling. We should have a couple of fun days before we go back and face this nonsense," he nodded to the reports.
"Are you sure you're Mr. Nox?" Feyre demanded, spinning to face him. "Last I checked, he worked from home and I was told by his family to make sure he takes breaks every now and then."
"We're at home, Feyre Darling. It's just Rhys now and I believe it might be my job to convince you to keep going on dates with me," he stepped closer, nudging her legs apart to stand between them. "And not just with my amazing skills at making you beg in the bedroom."
"Prick," she breathed out.
"Careful, Darling. The more you say such naughty things, the more I feel the need to prove you right," he whispered as he leaned over her.
"Aren't you supposed to prove me wrong?" She murmured, her eyes already closing.
"Where would the fun be in that?" He pressed his lips to hers and she smiled against his lips. "How long until your art class?"
"It's at three and done at five," she murmured.
"Good, then I have plenty of time," he grinned down at her. That pulled her attention away from his kissing. She leaned back to stare up into his face.
"Plenty of time for what? Aren't you exhausted after last night?" She demanded.
"Plenty of time to take you out walking around downtown. I'll show you some of the shops and businesses Velaris helps with," he offered her his hand. "As much as I like you in my shirt, and only my shirt," he confirmed as he nudged the hem up a little higher to see she was wearing no shorts and nothing else beneath it either. "I do think you should get a little more dressed."
Feyre stuck her tongue out at him and he held in a comment about where that very talented tongue could go as she went to get changed. He looked to the reports again while he waited. Knowing his entire family had keys to his townhouse and the codes to the alarms had made it a habit for him to dress before ever leaving his bedroom. Cassian and Mor had walked in on him naked one too many times for him to be comfortable. Though, perhaps with Feyre about they would be a little more cautious. He knew they were well aware he and Feyre had at least slept together once. They probably suspected they were always on each other now that Rhys had her in his house as a roommate. Just in case, he would try and establish a new rule about calling before coming over.
"Ready," Feyre appeared in the doorway. She looked radiant as ever in a pair of charcoal leggings and a long blue shirt that she had belted over her waist. Her hair was braided back but her face was clear of makeup. Not that she ever needed it.
"You look stunning, Darling, as always," he stood and drained his coffee. "Now, I think it's time I showed you the better side of our business."
They drove to Nox Industries to park and then Rhys led Feyre to a number of smaller stores tucked between the skyscrapers and big businesses. He took her to boutiques and watched to see what she would spend a few more seconds looking at though he was certain he had a hold of her style both professionally and casually. He took her to a coffee shop that served homemade coffee cakes in various flavors to give her a treat and then he pulled her down the street to an unassuming brick building with a powder blue awning over the door.
"This place is special," Rhys announced. "One of my mother's acquisitions. It's the place my mother worked as a seamstress at after my father freed her. I'm going to warn you though, they do menswear on one side, and the other side is a bridal shop."
"Why would you need to warn me?" She teased back. "Afraid I'll think you're trying to suggest something?"
"You never know," he winked at her. "Perhaps I am." He steered her through the doors, excitement running through his veins. It had been a week. One week of being intimate with Feyre and he was already certain one day he would be taking her here to get her wedding gown for their wedding. Or rather, he hoped she would agree to marrying him one day.
Inside they walked straight into the men's area as was intended by whoever set up the shop. It was supposed to keep the men out of the bridal area to preserve the whole 'grooms shouldn't see the dress before the wedding day' mentality. Racks of suit coats, pants, and shirts lined the floor while mannequins wore tuxedos. A pedestal along the back wall next to the changing area had a stool and sewing supplies next to it where custom orders were measured out.
"Rhysand!" He heard a woman call and he turned to see the owner stepping out of the wedding area. He smiled at the older woman that had known his mother so well. She was half the reason walking in always felt like coming home. The other half was his mother's lingering presence. "Are you in need of another suit? You don't appear to have changed in size. A tux, perhaps?"
"As you know I am well stocked on clothes from you. I was just showing someone around," Rhys nodded to where Feyre was walking between racked of button up shirts and ties.
"Hello," she chimed, looked up to the shop owner.
"A new friend, Rhysand?" The owner teased him.
"Feyre is my personal assistant, so I'm showing her all of the businesses we help," Rhys explained.
"On a Saturday?" The woman raised an eyebrow at Rhys until he simply blushed.
"She's also my…" he hesitated. He had nothing to really call her. They had only really been on one date. Beyond that, they were intimate but were they exclusive. Well he knew they were only seeing each other but had they agreed that was how they wanted to stay?
"His girlfriend. That's the word he is looking for," Feyre supplied. "Rhys, you would look good in colors other than black. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you?"
"Every time he comes in and insists on black shirts and black ties, Feyre," the owner teased. "I like this one. Feel free to look around. There's a bride back in that section with her sister, but I doubt either will notice someone else wandering around." She waved to the bridal area. "And feel free to convince this one he'd at least look good in a dark violet or perhaps a deep blue."
"She's right, you know," Feyre murmured coming to stand at his side.
"Girlfriend?" He asked, his mind still stuck on how she had so casually used the word.
"I thought you wanted to date me. Isn't that what you call the girl you are dating?" She asked.
"Yes, but I wasn't sure you'd agree to the term quite yet," he told her, attempting to be very honest. She rose up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Alright, for you, I will try on something that isn't black." He turned and set about finding something he might branch out to. "Go explore."
Feyre pulled a dark violet shirt from a rack, handed it to him, and made for the bridal section while he went to try on the shirt. Not to his surprise, it was a good match for his coloring and nearly matched his eyes. Knowing his family would have comments, he resigned himself to purchasing the one shirt and then started to browse for ties. It would be less strange for him to start wearing other colors of ties and perhaps that would be a victory enough for Feyre.
When he had his selections purchased, he went in search of Feyre thinking she had found a gown that had caught her eye. But Feyre wasn't staring at a gown when he found her frozen between two mannequins in bridesmaid gowns. She was staring at the pedestal where a very pretty young woman stood in a gown that suited her beauty. Her golden hair had been pinned up under a veil and she was staring at herself in the mirror, swishing the skirts from side to side. The chair next to the pedestal was held by… Rhys blinked once, then twice. By a woman that looked almost exactly like Feyre. Her hair was the same shade of golden brown and even from here he could see her piercing gaze of blue gray eyes. Her bone structure was slight sharper and her mouth appeared to be stuck in a permanent scowl when she wasn't looking at the blonde.
"Oh! It's perfect, Nesta! Don't you think! Grayson is going to love it and everything is going to be perfect! Everyone that matters to me will be there to see me married!" The blonde gushed into the mirror, her brown eyes on the cold one in the chair.
"Grayson would love it if you showed up at all. His father on the other hand might have something to say no matter how expensive the gown is," came the cool voice.
"Oh, pish. His opinion doesn't matter. Oh! Can you just imagine? I'll have a bouquet of peonies and English roses with ivy trailing down. And you will be my maid of honor. I promise the dress won't be too revealing for you. And then Grayson and I will be married and he and I will dance the night away." The blonde sighed. "And it will be my happily ever after, and everyone important will be there to see it."
Rhys felt and saw Feyre physically flinch at the words. Her skin was quickly losing color as she continued to watch.
Somewhere in Rhys' mind he remembered Feyre talk about her sisters. About there being two of them. About how they had failed to come see their father buried. That was all he truly knew about them. He had no doubts the cold one was Feyre's sister by her looks alone. The other, he had to really look at to notice the similar bone structure in the face. Judging by Feyre's reaction, this was the first she was hearing of a wedding though he knew they had texted her the day they had decided burying their father wasn't more important than a shopping trip.
"I'm going to take this off so we can buy it," the blonde informed her sister and went into the changing room.
Rhys reached for Feyre's hand, intending to take her away from the situation but she started at the contact and accidentally knocked into one of the mannequins. Not enough to knock it over but enough that the cold sister heard the noise and looked up. Her eyes narrowed on Feyre and she pulled herself up from the chair as Feyre stepped back once, then twice.
"Feyre," the cold one hissed. "What are you doing here? You're going to ruin everything."
"Elain is getting married?" Feyre asked.
"Yes, to a senator's son so she doesn't need her half feral, illiterate, prostituting, embarrassment of a sister coming to ruin her day," the hiss seemed to have hit its mark on Feyre and her cheeks flushed red before she spun around and ran back into the menswear section, likely for the door.
Rhys debated for a moment before he stepped up to look down his nose at the cold female in front of him. To her credit she didn't back down though he knew plenty of other people who would have.
"Anyone would be lucky to have that young woman as a sister. From what I've gathered, she sacrificed a lot for her family and if this is how she is treated after everything, I can only hope the Cauldron has some karma in its eddies for you," he turned and walked straight into the menswear section and right up to the counter. He had every thought of telling the owner what was happening and to give up the sale, but it wouldn't do him any good to have her loose out on business for his revenge on what had been said and implied.
"Change your mind already?" The owner teased him with a nod to the bag.
"Actually, I was hoping you'd put that bride's gown and any accessories she decides on on my tab, and of course any alterations. When or if she asks, you can tell her it's a wedding gift from her sister."
"You are friends with that viper of a woman?" The owner asked.
"No, I'm currently dating her other sister," he nodded to where Feyre was standing outside of the door, her arms around herself.
"Oh… oh," the owner frowned. "This is a messy one, isn't it?"
"Aren't weddings always messy?" Rhys asked. "So again, a gift from her other sister."
"Right, of course," the owner nodded. "I'll have the bill sent to you."
Rhys didn't stick around after that as he went outside to pull Feyre into his arms. She let out a quiet sniffle but otherwise it was hard to tell she was crying at all.
"It's about time I take you to your art class. You can go and get yourself completely coated in paint and then we can have a nice quiet dinner at home," he promised.
"You're going to cook?" She asked into his chest.
"No. Not even I would subject you to that. Either I'll drag Cassian out to cook for us or I'll find something to bring home," he promised. "Let's get going."
He dropped her off at her art class a little later and went to make a plan for dinner. He was certain that Feyre should have received a text or a call from her sisters well before they arrived at the community center Feyre took her classes at, but nothing had come and Feyre hadn't said a single thing about the encounter. The more he thought on it, the more pissed Rhys was. How dare that viper call Feyre anything she had? Feyre was a beautiful, cultured, and hard-working woman that had sacrificed herself for her family and they called her an embarrassment amongst other terrible things.
Rather than return home, Rhys drove to the small condo Azriel kept close to Nox Industries. His brother wasn't alone as Cassian was there. They were both in workout clothes which told Rhys they had likely been training just before he had come up.
"Two things," Rhys started when they looked to him. His temper to a point where he was ignoring pleasantries his brothers didn't need. "I need to come up with something to make or something to bring home for a private dinner tonight for Feyre," he looked to Cassian. The man was an expert on food. "And I want everything you have on Feyre's family. I don't care what reason you have it for, I know you have it." He looked to Azriel to see him grinning.
"Did Feyre not put out enough last night so you need to come be demanding of us?" Cassian teased.
"I would like to believe you will retract that statement, but I know better," Rhys snarled at his brother. "Forget about the food. I'll stop and get something from Sevinda and tell her not to serve you for the rest of the month."
"Ouch, it bites," Cassian teased. "If you're looking for something a little more romantic than Illyrian, I have some ideas."
"I'm thinking more comfort than romantic at this rate," Rhys replied with a sigh. Feyre would need comfort more than romance. Some good food, some comfortable pajamas, and a nice movie would likely mean more to her than some fine dining experience any night.
"Ah, well, in that case, I'd better come over and cook. I can't imagine you'd want to poison your girl," Cassian teased. "I'm going to go hit up the store to get supplies and I'll meet you there."
His brother left and Rhys turned to Azriel who was already typing away on his laptop. He paused for a long moment and looked up at Rhys. "Are you sure you want this?"
"I'm positive," Rhys assured him. Then his brother turned the screen towards him.
Feyre had spoken accurately of her father and his history. He knew her mother had died when she was eight or so. Those things weren't new information. But it was the files on her sisters that drew his attention.
Nesta, the cold one, was four years older than Feyre. Had graduated from a prestigious high school and then had gone on to the university to study literature. She currently worked for a branch of Day Publishing. There was a brief note about an engagement to a Tomas Mandry but the engagement was called off after only a few months. Whether it was because Nesta or Tomas called it off wasn't noted.
Elain was only a year younger than Nesta. She had also graduated from the same prestigious high school and had also gone on to the university. She had studied botanical sciences and business management and had gone on to buy a flower shop that operated out of the southern part of the city. It was noted she was engaged to Grayson Lord, son to Nolan Lord, a prominent senator with an elitist attitude and a strong dislike for anyone of native or immigrant status. Rhys had met the man once and they hadn't gotten along since, mostly because it was clear Rhys had native blood.
"Feyre didn't go to this high school," Rhys pointed to the name of the prestigious school listed on both sisters' files.
"No. It was the first sacrifice Feyre made. They couldn't afford to send all three of them to private schools so Feyre went to the public school while the other two went to the private school. It likely ate up most of the last of their money," Azriel sat down next to him. "After Feyre's father died, they moved in together near the college campus. They left Feyre behind and I don't believe they've really spoken to her since. From what I gather from the information is those two have always been close with each other and not with Feyre." Azriel paused a moment. "What happened to set you off on this path?"
Rhys explained the entire situation and Azriel only nodded, collecting the information for himself. "I think it bothers me that they are older than her and they didn't appear to lift a finger to help Feyre bring in an income. There's no mention of jobs they took to help her or anything here."
"No. They didn't help her," Azriel confirmed. "I have no noted incomes from them through that entire time."
"And yet, they can't bother to invite Feyre to her own sister's wedding," Rhys growled.
"There are worse things those that share blood can do to a person," Azriel commented quietly. Rhys stopped and glanced to Azriel's scarred hands. The burn marks were permanent though he knew Azriel had had them evaluated by Dawn Medical to see if anything could be done. One of the few physical scars Azriel carried from his half-brothers. "Painting will help sort Feyre out. She always is happier after her classes."
"And you know this how?" Rhys raised an eyebrow.
"Because I've talked to her," Azriel rolled his eyes. "I told you, I like Feyre. Sometimes we have lunch together when you're busy with meetings."
"Right, I don't suppose you have any files on her artwork I might see," Rhys nodded to the computer.
"I may have a piece or two she sent me photographs of," Azriel chuckled. "But I'm not going to show them to you. If you can get her to date you and move into your townhouse, you can man up and ask her about her artwork."
"It's hard to keep ahead of her if you don't help me," Rhys reminded his brother as he stood to leave.
"You should work for this one," Azriel called after him. "She's worth it."