Chapter 70: My Dark Prince: Chapter 69

I felt like an escaped prisoner crossing state lines.

“So, let’s discuss red lines.” I cracked open my laptop in front of two-time Oscar nominee Hailey Johansson, double-clicking the questionnaire I used for all my clients. “Do you have any?”

Hailey pouted from across the twelve-seater table. She twirled a tight black curl around her slender finger, her chin propped on her fist. Ethereal and breathtaking as a doe-eyed cartoon princess, she appeared bored out of her mind in the Magnolia Room of the Grand Regent, Fifth Avenue.

Yup. I’d booked us a two-grand-an-hour table at the seven-star hotel, taking full advantage of my fake fiancé’s facilities.

When we’d entered the conference floor, men in three-piece suits had paused to gawk at us from their positions hunched over round tables and printed spreadsheets. To say we looked out of place in the backdrop of high-power investment brokers, vaulted ceilings, and million-dollar chandeliers was an understatement.

“I mean. I guess full penetration?” Hailey snapped her pink gum, her big brown eyes following handsome businessmen through the glass windows as they sailed past us. “Though, to be honest, even that’s not a hard line if I finally win an Oscar.”

I let out a weak laugh. She stared at me, dead serious.

Filming started in less than fifteen weeks. I’d bet my entire salary that Hailey would spend every one of them stabbing voodoo dolls of actresses who won trophies on the years of her nominations.

I cleared my throat, sipping my green tea. “There must be something you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

“No.”

“Full nudity? Touching in specific places? A certain number of staff on set when you film the intimate scenes?”

She offered me a slow blink. “I don’t think you understand, Briar. I want an Oscar. The more whacky my process is, the more chances I have to win it. For all I care, I can do a creampie scene if it earns me a win.”

I examined her from across the table, careful not to let my jaw drop to the floor. Nothing wrong with Hailey’s approach. I just wasn’t used to it, as someone who worked with humans that tended to be very self-conscious about their bodies and images.

“May I ask why you hired me, if you don’t need an intimacy coordinator?”

“My PR team thinks it’s a good idea.” She rolled her eyes. “Ever since my fling with Tony DiLorenzo.”

Her ‘fling’ with Tony DiLorenzo was a Vegas wedding followed by an annulment. The media might have given her more grace if Tony hadn’t been expecting a baby at the time with his long-term girlfriend, whom he dropped off at the hospital – just barely – to deliver the baby before running off with Hailey.

It was pretty obvious that Hailey and I wouldn’t be a good professional fit, but I always tried to give people grace. Came with the territory of not being given it often growing up. I liked to think that we’re all unedited stories. That a little grace can sharpen the world’s hardest edges.

“Do you have red lines?” Hailey slurped her green shake from a paper straw. “Maybe I can draw some inspiration from you. You seem like the touchy type.”

“Yes.” I ignored her dig. “I have red lines.”

She readjusted her barely-there miniskirt, spitting her gum into a napkin and disposing it beneath the leather unholstered seat. “Like what?”

I opened my mouth to answer, when from the corner of my eye, I caught a suspicious movement next to the entrance. A tall, well-dressed figure with a mass of golden tresses and seductive lips.

I shook my head.

No. It couldn’t be.

I’d told him not to come.

I’d warned him.

You can’t even control your hormones around this man, and you want to control him?

A hysterical laugh jammed my throat as I watched Oliver weave between tables like a demon. Strawmen in sharp suits tried to grab his attention, flagging him down with half waves, desperate for his conversation.

One man caught him by the arm. Oliver stared him down, sneering at whatever he said. The businessman laughed in response, obviously embarrassed.

As if sensing my gaze, Oliver’s eyes traveled up, zeroing in on me.

His prey. His conquest. His little toy.

I swallowed hard as Hailey screwed her face, clearly annoyed.

“Hello? What are your red lines, Briar? I could use some inspiration. I don’t want my co-star to think that I’m easy. I heard he’s single, you know.”

Oh, so now you care.

I wrenched my glare from Ollie with whatever willpower I had left in my body, flashing Hailey a patient smile. I wouldn’t let Oliver ruin this in the name of our stupid who-blinks-first game.

This was my career. My passion in life. How dare he come here.

“Boundaries,” I heard myself say.

“Boundaries?” Hailey cocked her head sideways, as though the mere idea confused her. “Like, safe words and shit?”

“Like, if I tell someone they cannot come to see me, they have to respect that or bear the grave consequences.”

I said the last part loud enough for Oliver to hear as he cracked the door open. He sauntered behind me, clasped my shoulders, and dropped a kiss to the crown of my head.

“Darling,” he drawled in his Count of Wherever-the-Fuck tone, dripping patronizing charm and seduction. “There you are.”

“Honey.” I smiled tight, clutching onto his palm and squeezing it until I heard his bones crack. Two could play this game. I refused to show him my fury. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“No need to be surprised. Every employee of the Grand Regent Group has strict orders to let me know if they see you on the premises, so I can court you.” He waited for the outrageous piece of information to trickle into my system. “Yes, all 184,000 of them, worldwide.”

“How …”

“Romantic?”

“I was going to say deranged.”

“Missed you too much to stay away.” He slid into the chair next to me. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Mothertrucker.

I was in the middle of a business meeting.

“Not at all,” I cooed, grabbing his cheek and giving him a pinch that nearly tore his skin off. “But my client here understandably won’t feel comfortable with sharing her intimate preferences with a complete stranger.”

“Oh, I don’t mind him joining us at all.” Hailey giggled, thrusting the back of her hand for him to kiss. “Oliver von Bismarck, I heard so much about you.”

“The pubic lice rumors are unfortunately true.” Oliver sighed, rounded the table, and took her hand, giving it a limp shake, as opposed to the kiss she wanted. “But my lovely fiancée here was kind enough to pluck them out one at a time when we first got together. The woman is a saint.”

He returned to the seat beside mine, clutched my shoulders, and smushed our cheeks together.

I was going to kill him.

Life in prison was a small price to pay, circumstances considered.

Hailey glanced between us, obviously disappointed. “You guys are engaged?”

Now I knew we couldn’t work together. For one thing, she was ogling my fake fiancé like she wanted his face as her new favorite chair. For another, she purposefully leaned forward, so he could get a better look at her cleavage.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “How come I haven’t heard about it? I follow you on the gossip columns, Oliver.”

“We made an announcement on a double New York Times spread just the other day.” Oliver seemed completely unaffected by her heavy flirting. “I had no choice. She wore me out, Hailey. She was relentless in her pursuit. Day in, day out. I couldn’t even take a piss without her showing up in my bathroom, opening her mouth to be my own personal toilet.”

My blood simmered in my veins, hot, thick, and full of anger. He was about to find out that payback is a bitch, and so am I.

“Really?” Hailey eyed him with a grin, tracing the bust of her shirt with a single fingertip. “I like bold women. I was just telling Briar I have no red lines. No hard limits. None,” she enunciated, in case he missed it the first hundred times. “Whatsoever. I’m game for everything. Totally open minded.”

“Wow, sounds like you two would make an amazing couple, yourselves,” I exclaimed, sliding my hand under the table toward his lap.

I nestled my palm over his groin, aware that if someone peered through the glass, they might see it. Behind his smart slacks, Oliver was fully erect, hard and throbbing. The heat of his cock pulsed through the rich fabric.

My breath caught in my throat.

I’d done this to him.

Not her.

Not Hailey.

“Missed that train, I’m afraid.” Oliver groaned through his answer, holding his breath as my fingertips traced the shape of his cock, root to crown.

She winked. “You can always visit my station if you feel like visiting a different place.”

Yup, I definitely planned on sending her an it’s-not-you-it’s-me break-up email.

“I’m a homebody,” Ollie barely managed.

My hand slid to the button of his pants, which I undid, before tugging down his zipper. To my surprise, his cock sprung out, thick, long, and engorged. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Of course, he wasn’t.

This was Ollie. I should be lucky he came out of the house wearing a pair of pants.

I fisted him in my palm, giving him a good squeeze full of depraved intentions. A moan slipped past his lips.

“Everything okay?” Hailey leaned forward, trying to catch Oliver’s attention. “You look a little pale.”

“That’s because all of my blood is now concentrated in my dick,” he mumbled under his breath, only for me to hear.

He squirmed in his seat but didn’t remove my hand. I began stroking his cock in lazy movements, up and down. The velvety skin didn’t need lube. It was already smooth enough.

I squeezed my thighs together, drunk with need. If he didn’t cash out his prize soon, we’d end up doing something drastic. I wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me.

Hailey pouted at Oliver, now completely ignoring me. “What was that?”

I picked up my pace under the table, jerking him off, fueled by desire, and jealousy, and pent-up rage. It occurred to me that I wasn’t jealous of Hailey. I knew she did nothing for him. I just couldn’t – and wouldn’t – shake away the images I’d painted in my head of Ollie and that Instagram chick. Fifteen years was a long time to hold a grudge.

And still …

“I said,” Oliver choked out, “I’m not big on public transportation anyway, so the point is moot.”

“She doesn’t even seem to like you,” Hailey sneered, completely dismissing me. Her reputation truly preceded her.

I quickened the pace. Oliver’s precum slicked his skin, forcing my hand to move faster over his long shaft. Heat and wetness pooled between thighs. I could come, myself, I was so turned on. The adrenaline rushing through my body made me bold.

“I’d take her hatred before anyone else’s love any fucking day,” Oliver groaned.

Done pretending he was still in control, he tipped his head back. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he closed his eyes and enjoyed me masturbating him in full sight of at least a hundred people. No way did Hailey not figure it out.

Maybe she’s too enamored to even care.

“You know, Hailey,” I murmured in my sweetest, most innocent voice. “Maybe your issue isn’t that your movies aren’t brazen and cutting edge enough. Maybe you’re just not good enough for an Oscar.”

I was surprised her jaw didn’t hit the table. She certainly seemed to have the experience running her mouth and doing unholy things with it.

“What did you just say to me?”

I ran my tight fist up, thumbing a pearl of precum on Oliver’s crown and using it to moisten the rest of him. He quivered next to me, his shoulder vibrating against mine. I was drunk on the power of knowing I could do this to him. Render this man every man and woman clamored for speechless with just my hand.

“I said you simply might not be talented enough.”

“You’re a terrible intimacy coordinator.”

“Well, you seem to be a terrible human. So, I guess we’re kind of even.”

She shot up, yanked her pink Lady Dior bag off the back of her chair, and hiked it up her shoulder. “You’re not hired, in case you’re wondering.”

“That’s fine.” I smiled, milking Oliver’s cock with my fist, enjoying the way he shuddered, nearly reaching his peak right next to me, completely checked out of the conversation. “I only work with kind people, and you’re not it.”

She made a show of stomping her way out of the room in a blizzard of uncharitable curses. As soon as she left, I pulled my fist from Oliver’s cock. It swung toward his stomach, thumping it comically.

Ollie grunted. “Ow.”

“Tuck yourself back in,” I ordered, trying to appear unfazed as I rose, collecting my sunglasses and phone.

Oliver stared at me, first in a daze, then with unabashed frustration. “You’re not finishing what you started?”

“Please, Oliver.” I rolled my eyes, gathering my laptop into my bag. “You can’t even finish an email. I’m not going to be lectured about finishing anything from you.”

“Well, if I don’t finish, my bones will fall off.”

He shoved himself back in his pants, chasing after me as I strolled out of the Magnolia Room and toward the reception area. We’d drawn an audience. I wondered if people around us knew what we’d just done.

Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I’d spent my entire life trying to be lovable to the people around me. I’d only begun to feel worthy in the last few weeks, when I showed Oliver, Sebastian, and his friends my true, imperfect self.

I poured myself out of the revolving doors. “Sounds like a you problem.”

The young valet returned my smile. A cab slid onto the curb in front of me, the driver signaling for me to get in. Obviously, I couldn’t afford a night at the Grand Regent, so I’d booked a nearby hotel.

Oliver slammed the backseat door before I could slide in. He bracketed me it, a hand on either side of my waist, breathing fire down my face and neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He looked feral, baring his teeth at me.

“To my hotel room, to rest. I’m tired after a long day of work. You’d know that if you held a jo—”

“I do hold a job, and we both know that. Now cut the bullshit. Why would my fiancée stay anywhere that’s not my hotel?”

I snorted out a laugh. “Please stop pretending this engagement is real.”

Turned out, I might be the first to blink.

“It is to me. You said I don’t finish what I start? Well, I sure as fuck am going to seal the deal here.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He cocked his head sideways, dead serious. “Why not?”

I felt my neck heat up. “Why would you want to marry me?”

His nostrils flared, and his mouth thinned into a straight line. “If you want to bail on us this time, fine. Your prerogative, I guess. But I won’t be the one to fucking ruin us. Not this time.”

Us? There was no us.

“Briar.”

He grabbed the front of my throat, tilting my head up, ignoring the poor cab driver, who probably knew his identity and didn’t want to rush us. Somewhere in the back of my head, I acknowledged that Oliver and I were always a hot mess in public, and neither of us cared much, because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

“Listen carefully.” His lips went to the shell of my ear. “I have no morals. No ethics. No fucks to give. I may be more put together than I let on, but don’t mistake my productiveness for principles. What I want, I take. And what I’ve always wanted is right in front of me. You. If you don’t want me, you better run fast and hide well. Because once I’ve had a taste of you again, I am not letting you go.”

Before I could get my head straight and answer him, his mouth clashed against mine, hard and determined, silencing my protests. Fireworks exploded inside my stomach. My hands shot out, desperate to push him away. But instead, they betrayed me, clinging onto the labels of his suit jacket.

I drew him closer, urging him to shield me with his taut muscles and imposing height. He opened his mouth, his tongue tangling with mine. I knew, without doubt, that we were being watched. Recorded. My skin prickled with awareness at the uncomfortable camera flashes, blinding me, even through my closed eyes.

This was bad.

I was losing myself all over again to the man who once discarded me.

I got drunk on his kiss. He cupped my cheeks, like I was something precious and unique, tilting me slightly to devour me even more.

Then, tires screeched to my right. Another vehicle slammed to a stop behind my cab.

Oliver cut the kiss short, suddenly and abruptly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes pinned on mine. I nearly collapsed onto the pavement in a heap of unsteady knees and lust.

He didn’t bother helping me gather myself together. I latched onto the cab’s roof to steady myself. The disguise dropped. Gone was teenage Ollie, and in his place was a man that thrilled me.

He was cold yet intimate. Familiar yet strange.

This, I thought, is the real Oliver von Bismarck.

And against my better judgment, I wanted to get to know him.

In my periphery, three Grand Regent employees in uniform marched out of a white van. They held my suitcase and the things I’d dropped off earlier at my hotel, transferring them onto a luggage cart.

“By the way, sweetheart, I’ve made this a weekend vacation for both of us.” Oliver checked the time on his watch. “You’ll be staying with me in the penthouse. Top floor. We have reservations for a restaurant later tonight, but before that, we have a date.”

“W – what?” I chased after him as he tossed the cabbie two hundreds, breezing back into the hotel. “I haven’t even agreed to go on a date with you.”

He strode back to the conference room. When we reached the doors, two bodyguards blocked my way.

I pointed at Ollie, who disappeared inside. “Hey, I’m not finished talking to him yet.”

“My apologies, ma’am.” One of them bowed his head. “An order from above.”

“Let me take you up to your penthouse.” A pixie-sized woman materialized seemingly out of nowhere, heavily made-up and dressed in uniform. She laced her arm through mine. “Let’s get you ready for your date with Mr. von Bismarck.”

“I don’t want to go on a date with him.” I jerked my arm back but followed her, nonetheless.

Oliver had the tendency to cancel my leases and hotel rooms. I didn’t want to be homeless here just to prove a point.

“Ah, of course. The gods send nuts to those who have no teeth,” she murmured under her breath, ushering me into the elevators.

“He broke my heart,” I ground out after we rode up to the top floor.

She opened the penthouse door for me, not too impressed by this confession. “Well, he’s trying to piece it back together, isn’t he? It takes courage and dedication.”

It was becoming clear that Oliver wouldn’t let me go this time.

Problem was – I didn’t want to run away, either.