My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) (2 page)

Bored with my current conversation, I pull my eyes away from Reagan. She’ll soon get the hint our conversation is over and move on.

The party is at Brent’s lavish penthouse condo. I guess I should say ‘our’ lavish condo since I just recently moved in. An investment broker and the son of a rich banker, Brent makes a lot of money, and like me, he wants people to know it. The condo takes up the entire top floor, with all the electronic conveniences and latest technology imaginable. My shoes cost nothing in comparison to the mortgage, but the price is mere pennies to him. It’s even equipped with a live-in housekeeper/cook. Yep, I hit the jackpot.

Of course, it’s not all about the money. Brent Dickson is a financial wet dream, but he also looks like those underwear models you see in ads. Lean with toned muscles lining his body. A face you could find on a magazine cover. Perfectly styled blond hair, not a single strand out of place. Sometimes I’m not sure which of us spends more time on vanity.

My blurred search of our guests stops as my eyes land on Brent. He’s in the middle of a story with a crowd of worshipping fans surrounding him. I watch as the group of young women, most likely interns at his firm drool over every word that leaves his mouth. One girl leans closer to him and giggles shrilly when he gets to the punch line of what has to be one of his really lame jokes. I know the routine. It’s always the same. These groups of vultures always try and throw themselves at my boyfriend. I’ve made comments in the past about how it bothers me, and his response is always the same, “It’s just business, babe, and they know I’m taken.” The jury is still out on that one.

I shift my weight from one leg to the other while I wipe my now sweaty palms on my dress. I watch as Brent’s hand shifts something around in his pocket. Most likely my newest hand attire. The woman on his left places her petite hand on his shoulder and laughs at whatever Brent has just said. If I wasn’t so unsure about our relationship, or this drunk, I might care and go snap her pretty little manicured nails off.

“Man, do you see those sluts pawing at BTD?” Lexi makes her way back to my side and hands me my martini refill. BTD is her nickname for Brent, also known as Brent the Dick. If that nickname doesn’t say it, then I will: Lexi is not Brent’s biggest fan.

“Oh, let them. I enjoy watching them squirm, right up until the part where Brent lets them down and points my way.” I swig my luscious martini. “It’s quite thrilling to watch them pout and slink away with their tails between their legs.” I shrug as if I’m indifferent. I don’t particularly enjoy this part of our lives, but I also know better than to reveal any weakness.

We both turn back to Brent who is barely fighting off an art buyer who just spent six figures at my recent show.

“So, do you think he’s going to do it tonight?”

“Do what?” I ask.

“You know, pop the big question.”

As I analyze Brent, he finally breaks away, locking eyes with me, and winks. I know he has plans to propose tonight. I unfortunately heard him ordering an extra case of champagne, already assuming my answer will be yes. But why would he think otherwise? I can’t say I’ve ever given any indication I was not down for this plan. We do make the perfect match. Both successful, high in elite circles, and of course, both beautiful. Unfortunately, that’s just not enough for me.

Brent and I have been dating officially for the past three years. He attended one of my first art showings at St. Markey and ended up buying one of my first pieces just to get in my pants. It took a few years to actually make us official, due to the barricade around my heart, but since I
am
human, I eventually allowed him into my bed. I wasn’t looking for anything too emotional, and Brent, well, Brent was far from the romantic type, therefore our relationship worked. Throughout the years, our lives just blended together. In the end, becoming the future Mrs. Dickson and uniting a pretty huge power couple just seemed like the next step.

Snooty? Yes. Truth? Definitely yes.

I just wish there was more
love
in the equation. That’s something I hope will grow with time. I mean, not everyone gets their fairytale ending, right?

Lexi breaks into my thoughts. “Are you sure this is what you want? I mean you
will
forever have the word dick in your name.”

“Lexi,” I warn her, part seriously and part fighting the grin forming on my face.

“Just saying. Brent ‘the dick’ Dickson doesn’t deserve you.”

He probably doesn’t, but it might be too late to back out of this one.

The room around us goes mute as Brent begins to address our guests. “Everyone, I would like to have your attention please . . .”

Ugh.
I mentally groan.

And here we go.

Showtime.

I watch Brent raise his glass as everyone in the room quietens. He signals for me to come to his side, which I do elegantly. I make it into his arms and he squeezes me into his side and kisses my temple.

“Everyone, thank you for coming tonight. I would like to start off by giving this beautiful woman standing next to me a round of applause for the start of her amazing show tonight.”

With that, everyone claps and cheers.

As the sounds begin to dim, Brent continues, “Tonight, my friends, is not only a night to celebrate her success, it is to celebrate this lucky lady becoming the future Mrs. Dickson!”

With that, everyone in the room erupts with howls and cheers.

Except for me, of course. My composure slips a smidge as my mouth drops open in shock. Did I just miss something? You know, the part of the speech where he actually
asks
if I want to become the future Mrs. Dickson. I barely have time to acknowledge the part where I blacked out before Brent is turning me to face him and slipping a gigantic, shiny diamond onto my ring finger.

I look away from the ring at Brent and before I’m able to spit out a
what the fuck,
he smiles, kisses me, and then pulls away just as fast. “Love you, babe.” Grabbing my hand, he thrusts it in the air to show our guests.

So I guess we are engaged. And apparently, I didn’t have to worry about what I was going to say since I didn’t get an option. I want to feel around my head for the lump I got when I blacked out and hit the floor, missing his whole proposal speech, but I don’t get the opportunity because people bombard us with congratulations. Men are patting Brent on the back while the women are grabbing at my hand to see the ring.

I put on my fake smile, trying to get a handle on the situation. As genuinely excited as some of these ladies seem, I think a few are actually trying to pry the ring off my finger. I finally excuse myself to step away from the mauling crowd and walk toward Lexi, who looks like she’s still trying to compose herself.

“What the shit!” is the first thing that spills from her mouth. “I know I’ve been taking advantage of your top shelf, but did I miss something there?”

“I think I missed the same thing you did,” I admit, shaking my head and hoping to rattle some confusion from my brain.

“Um, honey. I hate to break it to you, but I can’t say that that was the most poetic proposal I’ve ever seen.”

“Me, neither,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s okay. I mean. We’ve talked about it.”
Not really.
“So it’s not a big deal.”
Being told you’re engaged kind of is.
“It’s not like we didn’t know this was the next move for us.”
Except I think I was going to say no.

Lexi stares me down, trying to diagnose my not-so-confident response.

“Are you sure, honey? You look a little off. Kind of like you didn’t expect that to happen
.
Like
that.”

Well, let’s be honest. Most girls would prefer being
asked
to become someone’s wife. I know things are a bit different in the world of the elite, but some things just don’t change. And I would assume an old-fashioned proposal would be one of them. I should be happy.
I am happy.
I will learn to enjoy my life. Things are going to get better from here. My past left a hole in my heart, but I will love him. I
want
to love him. A bright, rich future with Brent. I turn back to where I left Brent and once again he’s surrounded by his group of pawing cats.

“Well then, I guess it’s time to officially celebrate.” Lexi snags two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and hands me a bubbling flute.

“So congrats, future Mrs. Dickson. Let the wedding planning begin.”

We clink glasses and both waste no time in throwing down the glass of two-hundred dollar champagne.

It’s a shame the lavish champagne tastes about as dull as my excitement for my future.

A
S THE STAFF USHERS
the last guest out, Brent drunkenly swoops me up from behind and carries me into the bedroom. Before I can protest, he tosses me on the bed and wastes no time in pulling my emerald green silk dress off my body. “God, you’re so fucking hot. I’m going to fuck you good, babe.”

Lexi’s version of celebrating did not disappoint and I’m a wee bit, shall we say, intoxicated. There’s nothing like overindulging in martinis and a little joint to top off the party.

I’m practically seeing double of Brent right now and wanted to pass on this part of my night. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good hanky panky under the sheets but after what happened tonight, my second thoughts on this whole life plan are in full swing. If I was able to actually give him my answer, maybe I wouldn’t feel so unsettled. I mean, that way I would have sealed the deal myself. But instead I was told how it was going down. That just doesn’t sit well with me.
Like, at all.

Brent’s teeth grazing my nipple confirms I might be in for the long haul. “Well, then let’s get to it,” I sigh.

I watch his playboy smile spread across his face as he
gets
to it.

Making his way down my stomach, he doesn’t need to waste any time removing my panties because I’m not wearing any. He lowers his greedy mouth to my mound and goes to town, licking, biting and devouring my sensitive bud until I’m about to scream. But when I say scream, I mean in annoyance because he’s treating this sexual act more like a pie-eating contest. He can use a bit of a tonguing lesson, says my clit, but that’s an argument for another time. I’m about to pull a chunk of his hair out so he’ll release my lip when thankfully, he pulls away and starts to unzip his pants.

“You ready for me, babe?” he grunts.

“Always,” I lie in return, at which he grins widely. He rips his shirt clear off and pulls his silk suit pants down to reveal his very hard erection. He gives me one last look before he covers himself with a condom and dives into action, pushing himself inside. Immediate pleasure explodes over Brent’s creased face as he begins to move inside me.

“Fuck, babe, you feel amazing. I know I’m pleasing you. I can feel you sucking up my dick.”

Yeah, I bet.

God, Brent is a talker. He loves to talk about how great he’s doing during sex. I get it. He thinks he’s really good. And most of the time I won’t complain, but sometimes I want to shove my tits in his mouth just to shut him up.

“Harder, baby,” I egg him on, hoping to shut him up. I know he enjoys a good challenge and thankfully, that does it. He pulls out instantly and grabs me under my armpits. He lifts me up, carrying me to the nearest wall, nearly dropping me along the way. All the drunk maneuvering is starting to make me snicker. I can’t help but laugh at the situation I’m in. This is going to be my life. This sloppy sex is going to be my forever pleasure.

He attempts to slide back inside, while I wrap my wobbly legs around his waist. Both drunk off our asses, we’re attempting to lock lips when we begin laughing.

“Having a hard time making up your mind here tonight?” I comment through a grin.

“I don’t know which way I want you, you hot piece of ass.” He slaps my butt cheeks and we both laugh again.

I sigh in drunken resolve just as he gets it together to enter me and off we go again.

We’re going at it against the wall and I watch the sweat begin to form on Brent’s forehead while he moans like a maniac. Attractive, right? If only he didn’t sound like an animal in heat. I do my best to tune out the bad and focus on the good, and that’s me ending up with an orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Brent groans through his teeth, quickening his pace. I’m already there so the timing’s perfect. I’m just about to fall over the edge when the knocking begins on the door.

“Mr. Dickson?” We hear Helena, the housekeeper, calling from the other side of the door.

“Get the fuck outta here, Helena!” Brent yells and picks up his pace.

“Can’t she hear we’re busy?” I ask, laughing into his mouth. I mean who
can’t
hear Brent’s howling? The knocking sounds again, causing Brent to slow in his sprint to the goal line.

“Helena, we are fucking busy. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.” Brent begins to suck on my neck.

“Fucking hurry, before I—” I’m at the peak of my orgasm and I’m not sure my precious ears will make it another round.