ROYAL BRIDE (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (31 page)

“I used to. Now I’m so wrapped up in this dissertation that I can’t stomach it. But back to you,” I said firmly.

“I hate when you do that,” he teased. “You don’t let me avoid anything, do you?”

“No. Now tell me more about your father.”

He shrugged. “What’s there to say? He has a hard work ethic, and he’s pretty stubborn.”

“How often would he leave?”

“Every couple of months or so. He never actually cheated on my mom, but he would have these weird friendships with other women. He couldn’t get enough of being the hero. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop.” He stopped in his tracks and turned to me, cupping my chin gently with his hand. I couldn’t move, paralyzed by desire. His eyes were more exquisite than the stars in the sky beginning to peek over the rainbow horizon.

“Thank you so much for today. But more than that, thank you for everything. You’re a truly incredible young woman. You’ve helped me so much—today’s success wouldn’t have been possible without you. I’m not sure how I can ever repay you.” He breathed in quickly, as if to stop himself.

“Therapy is supposed to help,” I said. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Come on. You’re good at what you do. I’ve only been seeing you a couple of weeks, and I’m able to leave my house at night. Do you know what that means to me?”

He looked so alive —so full of energy. I’d never seen him like this before. Maybe I really was helping him after all. I could get used to his being like this. I wanted so badly to kiss him, to feel his mouth all over mine. But I didn’t. I pulled away gently, trying not to make him feel rejected.

“You have nothing to repay. This is my job. You getting well is reward enough. Now, tell me more about your childhood.”

“What’s there to know? I had a pretty normal life.”

“Your father leaving doesn’t sound normal,” I challenged him.

He sighed. “It wasn’t. But it made me strong.”

“The kind of strong that means no one can take care of you?” I countered.

“Exactly.”

He let me in this time, and I knew that our work together was paying off.

“I never saw the world the way other people did. I didn’t understand the whole working nine-to-five thing just to get by. To me, it simply wasn’t real. I started my own business when I was fifteen, mowing lawns. By the time I was twenty-four, I had taken a lot of business risks. I was a millionaire by thirty.” He was boastful.

“What are you hiding from when you tell me about your money?” I challenged him again, pushing through the veneer.

He sighed. “You’re good, Doc, you’re good.”

“So spill,” I teased, drawing him out.

“I’m ashamed that you saw me nervous before the meeting.”

“It’s my job to see you nervous; no need to be ashamed. You should be proud of the way you handled it. Having post traumatic stress disorder and being around unfamiliar people can be hard, but you did it.”

I knew him so intimately I wasn’t sure I could ever see him the same way again—but it was a good thing. In his secret vulnerability, he was even more powerful and beautiful. We sat in a calm, relaxed silence as the driver took us home. The smell of the sea still clung to my clothes.

He took my hand gently. It was such an innocent move that I accepted it. I smoothed out his big fingers in mine and gave them a squeeze. When I looked up at him, his eyes were closed, a soft smile on his face. I’d never seen him so relaxed.

***

Night had completely fallen by the time we reached the hotel. The bellman left us alone. There was an awkward silence as we stood in front of the elevator. He actually looked a bit nervous. He turned the lights on and sighed.

“Phew. Thank goodness that deal is over. I’m set now.” He was trying to distract himself. He might be flirty, but he was a loyal person. He wasn’t the type to cheat on his partner. “Would you like a hot drink before bed?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied, trying not to think about how dangerous a situation it could be, drinking alone in a room with him. Not because he would harm me, but because the sexual tension building between us was so thick it was nearly visible, almost like smog.

He gave me my drink. Hot brandy with cinnamon. It was good.

“We should have had our session in here,” I said. “It’s a good spot.”

“Well, I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
Liar.

“A session on the beach? I can tell.” He smiled but didn’t take the bait. “I haven’t drunk this much since I was in college,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“Which was what, four years ago?”

“A long time ago, Mr. Carson. A long time ago,” I said. We both chuckled, enjoying each other’s company. “You know,” I said, the brandy starting to go to my head. “I get so inspired when I’m around you.”

“How so?” he asked.

“My whole life, I’ve really wanted to be somebody. I’m almost there now, but when I’m with you, I feel like anything is possible. Suddenly, I know I can own the world.”

Billy sat beside me. He took my hands in his and stared deeply into my eyes. “You always have been something, and there’s no limit to what you can be. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, and caring young woman.” His mouth was so close to mine that I could feel it tickling my nose.

We began to lean in, my heart spiraling out of control. I pulled away sharply and stood up. “It’s getting late. I have to get to bed if I’m going to prepare for the jet ride home tomorrow.” I didn’t meet his eyes again. If I did, I would be sleeping with him tonight. “Good night, Billy,” I said softly.

“Good night.”

His phone rang. He picked it up, and I could hear Fiona’s snappy voice on the other end. Happy for the chance to escape, I quickly closed the door to my room and locked it, as if that would keep the thoughts of him away. I had almost crossed the line tonight. The idea that he was sleeping in the next room was more than enough to keep me awake. Luckily, I had come prepared. I took out the dildo I’d meant to throw out—the one I had unleashed all of my sexual frustrations on before. I threw it on my bed like a lover.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” I said to the dildo. “Thank you for saving me from a terrible mistake.”

I used the beautiful shower to wash, soaking myself in lavender soap. The scent of it relaxed me even more than the brandy, which was seeping into my veins. I thought perhaps I could wash this desire off of me. It didn’t work. Nothing seemed to work, and the closer I was to him, the more I wanted him. Badly.

He was still outside on the phone, his voice louder now. Fiona and he were arguing. Probably about me. Unless he hadn’t told her, which was very likely. He wouldn’t want anyone to know he needed emotional support.

I went into a fantasy—one I wanted to be real. In my fantasy, I would open the door and grab the phone out of his hand. It would shatter against the wall, but it wouldn’t matter because he could just buy a new one.

“Billy! “Fucking take me!”
Fantasy-Me screamed.

Fantasy-Billy growled and ripped my clothes off. We’d kiss and scratch each other until we were naked. I envisioned him bouncing me up and down on his cock, his legs splayed wide on the couch. I wanted to fuck him until the sun came up. I didn’t care if he could hear me come. I hiccupped in orgasm, my body writhing on my bed. I drifted off to sleep, the lights of the city my lullaby.

***

Experiences really can change you. After the trip, I was rejuvenated. I had clarity. I needed to break things off with Kent—which was ridiculous because we were never actually in a relationship to begin with. I thought he was great, but I wasn’t in love with him. He didn’t make my heart hammer the way Billy did, and though I had no intention of pursuing Billy, that’s what I wanted in the future. It’s what everyone deserves. Sometimes safety isn’t better than sanity.

Only two days had passed since our trip to California. Kent agreed to meet me at the coffee shop where we had our first date. He looked so sad in his raincoat; he likely already knew what was going to happen. I had told him about the trip when I’d asked him to meet. He cared about me too much to tell on me, but he knew well that after going on that business trip with Billy, there was no going back to pretending that what he and I had shared was real. I could never be with Billy, but I certainly could not pretend to feel that strongly about another man. Kent wasn’t the one for me.

It was ironic because, in truth, he was the perfect man. He was kind and considerate, as well as an excellent professional. In another place and time, we could have been great together. He just wasn’t for me, especially now. The feeling of safety he gave me was great, but for me to grow, I would have to push past my safety zone.

This trip with Billy taught me that to become someone, I had to dream big and go far. Being with Kent was not settling in any way, except emotionally. I could risk hurt, if it was for someone who could hurt me as much as I could them. With Kent, I always had one up on him and I knew it.

He hugged me in greeting. I wanted to cry. He had my coffee ready for me, steaming up our table.

“How did the trip go?” he asked. He looked at me with a hard look—a disapproving look.

“It was incredible,” I told him. “We took a private jet, and California is great. It’s still kinda warm there.”

“Are you sure you don’t need more supervision?” Kent asked.

I wasn’t sure if he was serious or joking. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Keep such great boundaries.”

“This question coming from the woman with a groundbreaking dissertation?” he joked.

“No. Seriously,” I insisted.

“Because it’s the right thing to do, Katie. That’s all. It’s just right.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. I added cream and sugar to my coffee, wanting to drown myself in it. He was right. What was I doing?

“What’s wrong?” He took my hand.

“We need to talk. That’s why I had you come here,” I began. I took my hand from him gently. He looked down and folded his hands on the table. He knew what that meant.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he asked at last.

What?” I looked up, not the least bit surprised he knew what was going on.

“Are you…” he mumbled, “having an affair with him?”

“No. Never,” I said. I was angry now. “How could you think that of me?”

I moved to stand up and leave, but he stopped me. “Please. I’m sorry. Sit down,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, when you love someone, your thoughts get crazy sometimes. You know?”

There was knowledge in his eyes, the kind of look you get when you know who you are and exactly what you want. I wanted to deny the truth, to pretend his eyes didn’t tell me that he meant what he said. That he loved me.

I wanted to fall off my chair with guilt. I shook my head, looking down. “Oh no…” I muttered. “Oh no, oh no.”

“Oh no what?” he asked, an edge of hurt to his voice. “You couldn’t possibly not know that I love you.”

The room was spinning. I wanted to get up and leave. I didn’t foresee this being so bad.

“Well, it actually is
a surprise to me,” I said. I had known he had feelings for me, but love was a bit strong. I hadn’t known him more than a year. I pictured all of those nights sitting in the waiting room, doing paperwork together. Laughing over coffee. Running around the city together. It suddenly made sense, that look in his eyes whenever he’d see me. And now, the look of pain and sacrifice.

Love. That was a strong word, after all, an emotion I could say I only felt for a handful of people on this earth. Like Billy.

No. Not like Billy
, I scolded myself.

I looked out the window. I imagined all of the times we spent in this area, having fun and passing time. Really, that’s all I was doing with him. Passing time. My eyes welled up with tears of hurt and guilt. Who had I become?

“You’re a great friend, Kent. The best I’ve honestly ever had. But…”

“Here it comes. The ‘but’ part. Just give it to me straight,” he said urgently.

I took a deep breath, my voice shaking. Knowing you were about to destroy someone with your words was never fun. I tried avoiding it at all costs in my life, but unfortunately, it was sometimes a necessary evil.

“I just don’t feel the spark,” I confessed.

His face was tight with hurt. Each of the words made his head droop lower and lower. Tears welled up in his eyes. He wiped them and tightened his jaw. He was too proud to cry in front of me.

“You’re a great friend, too,” he said, his voice shaking. “I enjoy having you as a friend and colleague, but I honestly wanted more. Is this really what you want?”

Oh no. The bargaining phase of denial. I wanted to run away, far away. Hurting him was not part of my plan. Even now, he was so calm. He had such great composure. I took his hand, and he accepted it, squeezing mine. “Never mind. I always knew you didn’t feel that way about me. I just needed to know for sure,” he said at last. “When you invited me here, I knew it was over. But it never really began, did it?”

His eyes looked so sad. I wished I could go into his brain and turn off his feelings for me. I wished we didn’t have to hurt people we cared about so deeply.

“I know it’s cliché to say it isn’t you, it’s me, but that’s really the case here. You’re incredible, but I just don’t see you as more than a good friend,” I said. “I don’t know if it’s too much to ask, but could we be friends one day?”

He smiled grimly. “I don’t think that’s out of the realm of possibilities, but I need some space. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.” He got up, very business-like. He left money on the table for the coffee and a tip. “I don’t meant to be rude and leave you here, but it’s too painful for me to stay any longer.” His voice was trembling.

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He left without another word. The people next to us stared rudely. “Fuck it,” I muttered. I got up and left, too. The wind whipped through my hair as I stepped outside, and the city suddenly looked big and cold. I felt good about myself for the first time in a while, though, because this was the first ‘right thing’ I’d done in a couple of months.