“It’s so good to see you.” At five foot seven, Stephen didn’t have to bend his head far to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth as I turned to him.

I frowned at the intimacy and shuffled a little away. Stephen followed me. He’d never really been aware of the whole personal space thing.

Oh boy.

“How have you been? What are you doing here?” he asked.

Go away, go away, go away.

“I’m well, thank you. Mr. Fairchild is the CEO of the company I work for. Horus Renewable Energy.”

“That’s great.” He raised his champagne flute to me. “My father is in business with Fairchild. He couldn’t be here tonight, so I came in his stead. My date”—he glanced around the deck—“is around here somewhere.” Stephen turned back to me, eyeing me speculatively. “Did you come here alone?”

“No, she’s with me.” Rhys suddenly appeared at my side, his arm sliding around my back to rest possessively on my opposite hip. I felt his lips brush my forehead. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I glanced up at him. His appearance was not good. Now Stephen would find out and possibly tell his aunt who would then tell my mother and the world would implode. So if that was true, why did I find myself relaxing against Rhys and wishing he’d take my hand and lead me out of the party to his sexy bike?

I nodded, struck mute by the thought.

“I’m Stephen.” The aforementioned held out his hand to Rhys. “Parker’s ex-boyfriend. You are?”

Rhys grabbed Stephen’s hand and gave him a rough handshake that made Stephen, my so-not-ex-boyfriend, wince. “I’m Rhys. I’m Parker’s.”

His word choice was deliberate, and I found myself desperately trying not to snort with anxious hysteria.

Stephen raised an eyebrow as he glanced between us. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here?”

I tensed at the snootiness in his tone.

Rhys’s hand flexed on my hip. “Funny,” he said, his voice flat, “here I thought it was my accent they called Bostonian, not yours.”

I smiled smugly at the answer.

Stephen wrinkled his nose and then cut me a superior look. “Everything makes so much sense now.”

Ugh. Snob!

Watching him walk away, I grew tenser. What if he told his aunt about Rhys?

“Hey, you okay?”

I turned toward Rhys. “He’s not my ex-boyfriend,” I blurted out. “We went on three dates. Three not-very-memorable dates.”

“Yeah.” Rhys frowned down at me and lowered his voice. “You hate it here, Tinker Bell.”

It wasn’t a question.

“And no wonder.”

Fairchild’s party was not a great example of East Coast society. Not everyone was as superior as Stephen or as misogynistic as Fairchild. The billionaire just drew a bad crowd. Still, I’d never been at home at this kind of event and clearly it was showing.