Page 18 of Everything About You

She hurries off, waving for Haydée to help her too.

Rhodes pulls off his sunglasses and stares at me. “Milo, you look like you’re about to be sick.”

I nod. “I feel like I’m about to be sick.”

Now he nods, a small smile forming. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that you completely fucked me over today?”

As I blink, everything goes silent, and my mouth hangs open.

Rhodes looks amused, but he doesn’t look angry. He gestures toward the boxes stacked beside him, and I do think this is the closest I’ve come to actually being sick.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I was upset, and it was really impulsive and irrational.”

He nods. “Maybe I was wrong about you, after all.”

I shut my eyes. “I get it if you want to rat me out to Yvette. It’s what I deserve. I’m not a cheater, really, and I think

it’s one of the most terrible things I’ve done.”

When I open my eyes, Rhodes looks puzzled. “This is one of the most terrible things you’ve done?”

Frowning, and afraid my eyes might be going hot with tears, I bob my head up and down. “I don’t know what came over me. I

mean, I’ve always been competitive, but this was something else.”

Rhodes squints. “You mean it? This is actually one of the most terrible things you’ve ever done?”

“We have a rule in my family against cheating or lying, and I have always followed it. Even when I had to play against the

worst guys—just total assholes...” I wince. “Not that...”

“I was a bit of an asshole,” he says. “I know it’s not an entirely level playing field between us. But to be fair, I didn’t

cheat to win.”

I nod. “I know. That’s why I’m apologizing and taking responsibility.”

“The pieces are collectors’ items that belong to my mother, do you realize that?”

“Yes. And that makes it even worse. It’s just that I know they’ll be sent back immediately, and they won’t be—”

“How do you know? They could get damaged in transit or stolen. There’s no record of them in our logistics spreadsheet since we didn’t log them to be shipped.”

I swallow. “You’re right.”

Rhodes reaches over for one of the boxes and hands it to me.

The box is heavy, and I don’t know if that’s metaphorical or physical, since I am currently going a bit numb all over from

the embarrassment and shame I’m experiencing.

He lifts his brows, gesturing for me to open it.

When I do, I find his mother’s monogrammed bag in a glass display case.

“Oh.”

Rhodes nods.

“Wait... you knew I’d switch them?”

He shrugs. “I had a pretty good feeling.”

“But you let me do it?”

“I did.”

My head is spinning. I’m overwhelmed with relief—the items are here, the event is going to go smoothly, and everything is

fine—but then I have so many questions. There’s also a newfound sense of disappointment in myself: Rhodes thought this poorly

of me, and I proved him right.

“Why?” I ask. “Is it somehow satisfying to see me freaking out over this?”

He shakes his head. “It was more of a test than anything. And when you got back from all your errands around Paris, I almost

told you, but you were a bit... cold. And then we actually started to have some nice conversations, and I didn’t want to

ruin that.”

“So you just let me stew in it.”

“To be honest, I’d hoped you were stewing in it—that you’re the guy I think you are—but I wasn’t sure. Truthfully, I’m glad you feel bad about it.”

Then he frowns. “But I don’t love watching you squirm, obviously. I feel a bit bad about it now.”

“This one is on me.” It’s annoying, but it’s true. “Are you going to say anything to Yvette?”

Rhodes shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Thank you. I really am sorry.”

“How about from now on, we just play fair?”

“Sure,” I say. “Right, we play fair.”

Because we’re still competing. This changes nothing.

Rhodes smirks. “Good. No more tricks, no more scheming. I won’t use my connections anymore—keep it fair.”

He holds out his hand, and when I shake it, I get that conflicting notion again. Part of me wants to win at any cost still,

but part of me wants to hold his hand and find out what more there is to him.

With a glimmer in his eyes I can’t read, he smirks. “Que le meilleur gagne .”

I slowly piece it together in my mind, then nod. “May the best man win.”

Thankfully, the event goes perfectly. Sophie and I are attached at the hip, which makes it feel more like fun than work at

some points.

The influencers all love the garden and the art installations, and the collection pieces are a huge hit. On our creator platform,

I check in on some of the mentions, and they’re mostly about Rosie Hamilton’s iconic pieces. Until, of course, Pascal Dumas appears and gives a short speech before unveiling the new resort bag. People ooh and aah , and they snap photos and videos. It’s like a new iPhone being revealed or something.

Pascal is gone in a flash, as quickly as he appeared, and I don’t get an introduction, though I was waiting with bated breath,

just hoping Yvette might wave me over. He does say something quick to Rhodes, of course, and while I am relieved of my superstitious

guilt because this event has gone off without a hitch, there is still a sharp sense of panic surging through me. When Rhodes

is fawned over and congratulated for his brilliant idea, I am reminded that the resort show is slipping further and further

away. The urgency bubbles and boils inside me, but there isn’t anything I can do.

I’m so ready to cocoon at the apartment now after the roller coaster of guilt and anxiety and overthinking. Nothing sounds

better than a bath and then becoming one with the couch.

I say goodbye to Sophie, and I am about to slip away when Rhodes waves me down, running over.

Is this becoming a pattern? Is he about to ask me to do something fun now that the event is over?

“Do you have plans after this?”

I just lift a brow. His tone and expression seem much different than they did at Versailles—warmer and more familiar somehow.

“Yvette wants us to verify all of the gala invitations from the calligrapher,” he says. “To get them out first thing in the

morning.”

“I thought you already did that. Also, I don’t understand why we’re sending them so late.”

Rhodes shrugs. “It’s really just a formality. Everyone’s already confirmed. Tradition. I did pick up the invitations the other day, and I meant to start double-checking them, but then Zoe sent me on a wild goose chase for a necklace.”

“So we’d have to do them all tonight?”

“Yeah. But the invitations are back at my flat—we’re both in the 7th, maybe makes more sense to just do them there than to

take them back to the office?”

I sigh. “I guess I owe you, don’t I?’

Rhodes flashes a devilish grin. “You said it, not me.”