Page 22 of Off Limits Mogul

“I never thought I’d have all of this.” I extend my hands out. “Or that I could hire the services of a bona fide Michelin-star chef to stock my fridge and freezer with incredible meals.”

“How does one find a Michelin-star chef?”

“Beckett’s older brother hired him.”

“It makes sense Holt would need help given he’s a single dad and a busy music mogul.”

I nod. “The chef rotates between my place, Beckett’s and a bunch of other friends’ kitchens in Manhattan Beach.”

“You’re living the good life.”

“I’m doing my best.” I wink.

“How is Holt? He came out to some of our concerts when he was still living in London.”

“He’s giving the music industry a run for its money. The guy is on fire. His recording label is skyrocketing, and he keeps turning out chart-topper after chart-topper. When you’re settled in, you should get in touch with him. When I told him you were coming back, he said he was eager to talk to you––”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay.” Her hazel-green eyes are clouded with a veil of sadness.

I don’t push.

“I can’t believe I get to call this place home for the next little while.” She changes the subject. “I’ll fall from grace when the time comes for me to move out and find a crappy, but affordable, apartment of my own. God, given my shaky financial situation, I might have to find a roommate.”

Her statement bothers me to no end.

“You have a roommate. Me.”

“Rhys, I’m not paying my way,” she says. “It’s like I’m mooching off you.”

“You’re not. You’re my guest. You can stay here for as long as you need. There’s no rush for you to leave.”

“I’m sure your girlfriend will think otherwise.”

My eyebrows lift to my forehead. “Girlfriend?”

Chapter 6

Keira

We feasted on balsamic glazed chicken with roasted rosemary baby potatoes and grilled vegetables prepared by a Michelin starred chef. Rhys’s house is incredible. My room is more luxurious than many of the high-end hotels I stayed at when I was on tour. He’s made me feel so welcome. And that lounging pool area is a dream. What more can a girl ask for? It seems that’s not enough for me because I’m dead set on poking the bear.

Rhys is still staring at me, like my question caught him off guard.

“Don’t look so surprised,” I say.

“You landed in LA a minute ago and you have the gall to think you know everything there is to know about my dating life?” He sounds vexed.

“I’ve seen the plethora of photos online.”

Even without them as proof, I know his reputation. Rhys Hartford is no choirboy. Why would he be? The man oozes the kind of sexuality that makes a woman dizzy.

“A lot of those photos are staged-dates,” he says.

“That might be true for a lesser man, but you––”

“It doesn’t mean I’m seeing those women off the red carpet.”

There’s a part of me that’s yelling at me to quit while I’m ahead, but another part of me soldiers on.