ROYAL BRIDE (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (26 page)

“Is Zach home?” I asked Gretta, trying to distract myself. My mind could go to some fucked up places when I let it.

“Yes. Well, last time I checked,” she said.

When I stepped through the door, our chef had made food. Some of it had been left out on the stove. I think it was chicken.

“Zach?” I called, enjoying the warm and safe light of the house.

He came down the stairs. He looked miserable. I went immediately into dad-mode, no longer thinking about anything but Zach and the solemn look on his face. I hadn’t seen him so fucked up since his mom left.

“What’s up?”

“She just doesn’t get it,” Zach said angrily, raking his hands through his long dark hair.

“Get what?” I asked, bewildered.

“My collection. She flipped the fuck out today because I had a skull delivered. And the only reason she knew it was there was because she went snooping in
my fucking room. A room that was mine long
before she got here,” he ranted.

He swung round and began walking upstairs. I followed him, curious what had made him so upset. Truthfully, I hadn’t been in Zach’s room in a long time. Partly because it was too painful to remember when he was born and Sophia was around and partly because he had some really weird, outlandish shit. Shit that was even hard for me to cope with.

I entered his room. It was dark and smelled like dust and incense. My mouth dropped because he had bookshelves and display cases filled with what looked like eyeballs, guts, and old photographs of twisted things, like dead people. In the center of his room, the light shining down on it proudly, was a skull.

“Is this even legal?” I asked.

“Yeah, it is. Just an exact replica. So I don’t get why she won’t just leave me alone,” he wailed, his voice cracking.

“I’ll have a talk with her about it,” I assured him. “I promise.”

He scoffed. “Like that’s going to work. The woman is a nightmare. To be honest, I’m glad she’s mad. In fact, I got it maybe to piss her off. And I’m glad it did.”

He took after me. I loved pissing people off if I hated them enough. It wasn’t something I was proud of. “I’ll talk to her,” I said again. I tried to dodge the knives of teen angst.

“Whatever,” he said in his teen slang, but he was still angry. “I want to be alone. What’s the point, anyway? It’s not like she’s going to do anything but ask you for more money. Isn’t that all she ever does?”

My heart welled up with anger. “Stop, all right? I’ll talk to her about the collection.”

“Gotcha. Okay,” he said, annoyed.

I closed the door behind me.

Fiona stood in the hallway, tears in her eyes. “He hates me,” she screamed. She covered her eyes and stormed into our bedroom. I followed and closed the door behind us. I studied her, loving the way her hair flowed over her back. She looked young now, too. I felt a pang in my heart for her—and another of guilt and of shame.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s a unique kid, though. What can I say?” I said gently.

“You’re delusional. He fucking hates me,” she said, her mascara running down her cheeks.

“No, no.” I took her in my arms. I sat on the bed with her and pressed her against me. Her warm, fragile body molded into mine, and she sobbed gently into my shoulder. I looked at my face in the mirror, feeling my jealousy over Katie dissipate. No matter what anyone said about Fi, I truly loved her.

“My session went great,” I said, my voice pinching with guilt.

She looked up at me with eyes framed with false eyelashes but still pretty, nonetheless. “Really?”

“Yes,” I soothed. “You should come with me next time.”

“Okay… that sounds good.”

There was silence. Suddenly, all of my sexual frustration from the last four hours spilled over.

“How was your—” she began. But before she could finish the words, I pinned her down on the bed. My mouth was on hers, and she moaned, accepting my lips greedily. I parted hers and jammed my tongue in, massaging it with mine.

She raked her hands through my hair as I unbuttoned my pants. I pulled her slip up. She wore a red lacy panty set. “Good girl,” I murmured against her neck.

I spread her beautiful body on the bed, her tan skin looking great against the black satin sheets. I ripped her panties off, exposing her waxed pussy. “Smells delicious,” I said, licking my lips. “I could always go for a second course meal.” She had goose bumps. She loved it when I made her come.

I buried my mouth in her wet lips, running my tongue up and down her clit. She gasped and arched her belly. I pushed her down, making her take the pleasure.

She looked so good, even with mascara smeared down her face. She tried so hard to look perfect, but I liked her raw. Her whimpering was delightful, too. I held her hips down as she shook with an orgasm, the moans coming out in unique little hiccups. Greedy, I lapped up her juice.

“Know what I could use now?” I asked.

“W…what?” she asked, her eyes half-closed.

“Some of that tight little cunt,” I rasped.

I didn’t even get out of my pants before I plowed into her tight, warm hole. She cried out in excitement, begging me for more. I pumped my hips, feeling my cock swell against her. The more I swelled, the tighter she clasped herself around me. She clawed her long red nails down my back, which I loved. My sweat dripped onto her, and she lapped it up like a slut.

“Mmm. Baby, that feels so good,” I said, my voice barely a husky whisper.

“I want you to come,” she whimpered, pulling my hips closer to her.

She had an IUD, which I had paid for. I didn’t want any more children, but I wanted the pleasure of the process. I tried to keep myself on the edge for as long as I could. My cock was getting harder and harder.

“Do you want it, baby?” I asked, my voice weak, almost begging.

“Yes. Yes, give it to me, Daddy,” she said through breathy moans.

“Here it comes.”

I closed my eyes, hearing my own erratic, gruff moans. My cock pumped hot cream into her cute little pussy. She mewed in appreciation, tightening herself around me, the walls of her cunt begging for my seed.

I collapsed next to her, holding her in my arms. I watched as the little that was left of the day faded.

“Second course meal, you said. Did you already eat?” she asked, drifting off.

“Yes, I had dinner and conducted some important personal business,” I said, kissing her neck.

We curled up together in bed. I smoothed my hand across her hair. We drifted into a comfortable sleep until my nightmares overtook me again.

My dream began in a different bedroom, when Sophia was throwing her clothes into a bag. Even in her mess, with no makeup, she had looked perfect. I stood by the bed, silent, every part of my body wishing she wouldn’t go, though I was too proud to ask her to stay.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t play happy fucking family,” Sophia had told me, her voice cracking with anguish.

“We are happy. We aren’t playing. Let me take care of you,” I begged, starting to lose my cool.

“Since we lost that damn baby, I’ve been trying to reach out to you. And it used to work. You used to take off the damn mask. This isn’t a business
deal, Bill.”

“I know,” I stuttered. “Please. Let’s just talk about this.”

She laughed spitefully. “So you can sit there and pretend it’s okay? I am done pretending. I’m done ever pretending I can ever reach you again.”

I watched her car drive down the road, oddly disconnected. It reminded me of being a boy, watching my father leave. He’d come back home, yeah, but he was never the same. He was always distant after that. It was clear he gave up because he felt he’d run out of time. I’d supposed we had too, Sophia and me.

When I turned around, I was in the street again, the street where I was robbed. I felt the robber come up behind me. This time, he immediately began beating my head over and over with his gun. I tasted blood. It was only a dream, but I could taste it. I looked down in horror, feeling as though I was outside of my body, seeing the red run in pools to the floor. My
blood.

I cried out, not realizing that I had screamed in Fiona’s ear. She jumped, her eye mask falling off her eyes.

“Jesus, Billy, not again,” she wailed.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, truly meaning it. “I had a nightmare.”

“I can’t wait to go to therapy so I don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. I wish she’d just fix you already.”

“You act as if I’m broken.”

Her eyes were cool, mean even. “Trust me, if there’s anything I’ve known in my life, it’s that you’re fucking broken.”

“That’s a damn lie.” I gritted my teeth and turned away from her.

“Yeah? Prove it. Make some money. Not much has been coming in lately.”

I remembered what Zach said. I hoped this was one of the few occasions he didn’t take after me, because I was seldom wrong.

Katie

Kent had this kind of innocence about him, almost like a noble knight. He wanted to do good, no matter what. When it came to me, he was even more childlike and awe-struck. I knew it was corny to say that, but it was true. His innocence was such a contrast for Mr. Carson’s feral behavior that I felt comforted, calmed by the thought of Kent. I craved a normal, familiar place. I wanted to eat popcorn in front of him, knowing I wouldn’t be self-conscious of the cheap, all-American cuisine. Deep down, I knew that as much as I was intrigued by and lusted for Mr. Carson, he intimidated me. Why then, had he made me so wet tonight?
This is wrong, Katie. Just remember, you had a polite dinner, nothing more.

I felt the money in my pocket and questioned myself. Accepting a business endeavor was fine, but was that all I had accepted when I grasped that money? And the touching—I looked forward to it so much, pined for it. I was hungry for a chance to feel his rough skin against mine. I was embarrassed because I hadn’t put lotion on my hands today, and it was winter. I hoped he didn’t notice it.
“Snap out of it,” I scolded myself quietly. The driver looked up.

“What was that, miss?”

“Nothing,” I said. “We should almost be at the movies theaters.”

I saw Kent. He had a warm hat on, and his hands were in his pockets. He wore jeans and looked so familiar, so cozy. I thanked the driver as I got out of the car and waved at Kent. His face lit up like it always did when he saw me.

“Hey there! You look great,” he said. “I feel like I should have worn a suit.”

“No,” I said, hugging him tightly. “No, you look great.”

He pulled me away from him and looked into my eyes with that searching gaze I sometimes resented him for, the kind of gaze that was likely karma from all the times I saw through people.

“You okay? You look shaken up.”

“Yes. I’m well. I just went to dinner with Mr. Carson,” I said casually, trying so hard to keep an even tone.

“Your client?” he asked, a bit shocked.

“Yes, it was a nice gesture. And it served its purpose,” I informed him, walking towards the ticket booth.

“I already bought our tickets. I remember you wanted to see
The Scene.
” He looked thoughtful. “But what was the purpose? You know you have to be careful not to cross boundaries—and did you inform him of the risks of the outing?” he asked, going into counselor mode.

“Thanks for the ticket... and, yes. In so many words. It was fine,” I assured him.

He’d always trusted my professional judgment before. He seemed to now as well, nodding his head. He trusted me way more than I trusted myself.

Second stage of crossing the boundary point: At this stage, the counselor has briefly crossed the line, but has stepped back into propriety, examining the transgression and working to overcome it. However, once the initial line has been breached, the counselor leaves footprints and some actions may not be undone or overcome. This is why taking immediate defensive action is crucial, before the situation worsens.
I recalled, citing my own thesis.

I’d made it to point two and nearly crossed it with one foot. But I hadn’t yet, which was all that mattered. Next week, when his fiancée came to the session, everything would be set straight. Our roles would be solidified. All would be well. But the idea of his fiancée being there made my heart sink just a little.

“Let’s just go inside. We’re late,” I said. The warmth of the theater bathed me gently. The lights were dim, and I relaxed.

Kent took my hand gingerly. “Want to get popcorn?”

“Sure. I’ll go in and get us a seat. The back is usually clear this time of night. Meet me there.” I winked.

He smiled brightly and nodded. “Any soda pop?”

“Diet,” I said. I had never liked the sugar mixed with the tartness of a refreshing drink. “Oh... and fizzy rocks,” I added wickedly though he didn’t get the joke.

“Gotcha.” He stood in line like such a gentleman. I didn’t take my eyes off him until I entered the dark theater. True to my expectations, there weren’t many people in the theater; it was almost ten p.m. The back was totally clear, though it was hard to see. The low light of the projection screen above helped a little. The theater chairs were a bit more luxurious, though they looked flimsy in comparison to the restaurant Mr. Carson had taken me to. I felt guilty thinking this, so I settled down, feeling childishly excited about the popcorn and movie.

The previews began, and they were dull as hell. I was relieved when I saw Kent with one big bucket of popcorn and a soda to share.
“Aw, you got diet for me. Sacrifice.”
“Anything for the best colleague ever,” he teased.

He sat next to me and took his coat off. His body was slender and tall. I liked his height, and there was something sexy about his slim physique. Most of all, though, he was familiar. Guys my age were not as foreign or dangerous. Guys Billy’s age? They’d eat me for breakfast. My mouth suddenly felt dry. I took a sip of the soda, noting how fountain soda always tasted better than the kind in the bottle.

He placed the popcorn between us and handed me the fizzy rocks. They were just as I remembered from my childhood. They coated my tongue, popping and bristling. I enjoyed the sensation.