by Ava Harrison
Jesus Christ, Lancaster. Pull yourself together.
“Let’s go before you strip me naked and we never leave,” she teases, signaling I have no poker face when it comes to what she does to me.
Thirty minutes later we’re seated in the outdoor suite that I’ve reserved for today. A few members of my executive team will be joining us, but for the most part, it’s just Olivia and me enjoying some good ol’ American baseball.
I see Olivia staring at me out of the corner of my eye. “What?”
“You look so . . . normal.”
I laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. You look . . . hot.” Her cheeks redden.
“Hot?” I frown.
She leans into my ear. “I should’ve let you devour me back at the suite.”
I squirm at her words, needing to readjust as my dick lengthens. “Olivia,” I groan. “Not here.”
She giggles. “You should wear hats more often.” She flicks the bill to my Yankees hat. I wave her hand away, pulling the cap lower over my brow. At that moment, a man comes along offering food and drinks. Olivia looks at me in question.
“Two dogs, two Bud Lights, and a bag of peanuts,” I order. Olivia stifles a laugh. I turn to her questioningly. “Is there a problem?”
“You’re acting so normal.”
“That’s the second time today you’ve accused me of being normal. I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“I love it. We should do New York things more often.” Her smile is wide and contagious.
“We will. I promise.” I lean in and capture her lips.
At some point while we are distracted during the bottom of the sixth, the Yankees hit a homerun and the crowd grows wild. Olivia and I jump to our feet, cheering with everyone else. High-fives are offered to those around us and we all cheer for our team.
Olivia looks in her element. Watching her carefree and having fun is quickly becoming one of my favorite things. I’d do anything to see her like this always. Man up, Lancaster. You’re sounding like a love-sick asshole.
At that precise moment, Olivia grabs my hand in hers. I’ve never been one for public displays of affection of any kind. The only time the paparazzi found me in that position was when I was at a club trying to score a piece of ass and they caught me at the wrong time. But with Olivia, it seems I’m kissing and touching her every chance I get. This is different. Olivia is different. I want to give her the world, and that scares the fucking shit out of me.
“Spencer,” a smooth familiar voice croons from the seat above. I look up to see Addison. Fuck. When we met earlier in the week, she made it very clear she wasn’t going to drop the idea of how “perfect” we’d be together. I barely got out of the meeting unscathed. At one point I even had to remove her hand from my own. I need to get out of here before this becomes awkward with Olivia. Turning my attention to Olivia, it’s obvious it’s too late for that. Her fingers tighten around mine, damn near cutting off the circulation.
“Hello. I didn’t realize you were coming today.” I try to sound nonchalant, but by the way Olivia is looking from Addison to me, she doesn’t believe I didn’t know. That or she’s trying to figure out who Addison is to me. Nothing. That’s what. Just a woman I’m unfortunately doing business with.
“I wouldn’t miss a chance to see the Yankees play. Besides, today is a beautiful day.” Her eyes blaze when they land on my hand in Olivia’s. “I’m Addison.” Her voice is sugary sweet, but I know better. She’s a praying mantis. She lures you in with hopes of love but once she’s had her fill she’ll eat you alive.
Olivia’s eyes narrow as she extends her hand. “I’m Olivia,” she mumbles. But I step forward and take her hand back. Staking my claim.
“My girlfriend,” I clarify.
“Lancaster.” Gerald Walter nods at me.
Fucking idiot. He’s a financial advisor for Lancaster Hotels. My father hired him last year and I’ve yet to get rid of him. He’s good at what he does, but he’s a complete douche. I had heard rumors that he ran in the same circle as Addison. Knowing her, she came with him to try to make me jealous. Or maybe they’re dating and she hasn’t changed at all. Clearly, there’s more to the story.
I don’t care to find out.
“We’re actually getting ready to head out.”
“We are?” Olivia asks, surprised.
“Yes, I have plans for us.” I grin wickedly. “It was nice seeing you, Addison.” I stand, pulling Olivia with me.
After a minute of walking, we’re free from prying eyes, I pull Olivia into me and kiss her hard. All the pent up want from today comes through in this kiss. When I pull away, Olivia is blushing and breathless.
“What was that for?” she says, touching her swollen lips.
“I couldn’t wait another second. I’ve wanted you all day.” Olivia stiffens beneath me, her body going rigid. What the hell? What just happened? Pulling away from me, I look at her and see that her eyes have narrowed slightly.
“Who is she to you?” she whispers. Where did that come from?
“Who?”
She lets out an exasperated huff. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. What other girl did we see? That girl. Addison. The one you didn’t introduce me to.” She puts emphasis on the you and I feel like a complete asshole because she’s right. I didn’t and in return Addison did. “Why did she look familiar?”
God, I didn’t want this to happen. I’m not prepared to share my history with Addison. Especially now that I’m doing so much business with her, I don’t need Olivia getting paranoid and jealous. I’m already under enough stress.
“Come on let’s talk about this in the car.” Together we walk in the direction of where my driver is parked but we don’t hold hands this time. Olivia is clearly pissed. As soon as the door is open and we are inside, she turns to me.
“So . . .”
“She’s just someone I do business with,” I say, trying to diffuse the situation without giving too much information. When she doesn’t speak right away, I kiss down the swell of her neck again.
“Barcelona,” she mumbles under her breath, more to herself than to me.
“Yes,” I admit, still trailing my tongue down her skin.
“Can you stop?” she huffs out, pushing me off. I look her in the eye.
“What?”
“I can tell she’s more.”
“We dated.”
“And . . .”
“And what? What do you want to know? We grew up together. We dated. She cheated. We broke up. Not much I can say about it,” I hiss out. I hate talking about that time of my life. I hate when people lie, and talking about Addison brings me back to a bad time. We might be good now, but it took many years of me doing business only with her brothers before I was able to even be in the same room as her. Lying is a hard limit for me now.
“How long ago was that?” She speaks in a weak whisper, but no matter how low her words come out, there’s no mistaking the hesitancy in her voice. She doesn’t want to know and I don’t want her to know either. I don’t want her to know just how much Addison meant to me. How I loved her. How I thought I would marry her.
“A lifetime.”
“Do you still—”
“No, Olivia. I don’t have feelings for her. I’m with you.”
“I just thought—”
“Don’t think.”
Her mouth drops open as she flinches at my words.
“Take me home,” she spits out as she crosses her arms protectively in front of her body.
“Olivia.” I incline my head and reach out to touch her. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
She sits quietly for a moment and then lets out a long puff of oxygen. “I don’t want to fight with you either.”
“So let’s not.”
“This is so new Spencer. I don’t really know where I stand. You know the situation with my father. I don’t ever want to be my mother, blindsided b
y another woman.”
“I would never do that.”
“I hope not but when you’re obviously keeping a secret, how am I not supposed to be worried?”
“Like you said, we’re a new relationship and I don’t like talking about her. So I didn’t.”
“But, you lied when I asked you. That’s not okay with me.”
“Fuck.” I pull at my hair. The thing I hate most is a liar and here I am lying. She’s right. I’m not better than everything I hate. “You’re right. I’m wrong. I don’t give a fuck about her other than business. But please, Olivia let’s not let her ruin a good day. Let’s just be normal,” I say. Hoping it reminds her how much fun we were having before our run in with my ex. The space between us grows silent again. A few minutes must pass before she finally speaks but when she does, I know I’ve won her back.
“I’d like that,” she says and she shimmies over to me and places her hand on my lap. “I’m sorry for being so insecure.”
“Don’t be. It’s me who should be sorry. And I can’t wait for a chance to make it up to you.
“How about now? I can’t wait to get you home.” Olivia starts to run her hand farther up my thigh.
“Actually, we might not make it,” I warn.
“Well . . . there’s a screen divider in the back of the car.” Her voice taunts me, making me want to do perverse things to her right now. I inhale deeply to stave off the massive erection she’s inducing. This girl drives me crazy and I plan to blow her mind.
When we’re finally back in the suite, Olivia stops in front of me, leans forward and places a soft kiss to my lips. “Thanks for taking me today,” she mutters against my mouth.
“Even though I was so normal,” I say as our lips separate.
“I love when you’re normal.” As the words leave her lips, her cheeks turn pink.
“Good. It’s easy to be normal with you.” Did I just really say that out loud? Being with Olivia is messing with my mind. I’m acting like a high school girl, wanting to talk about my feelings.
Her brow furrows at my comment. “What do you mean?”
“Just that it’s easy.”
“Elaborate please.” Shit, she’s not going to let it go.
“How do I explain this?” I move in front of her and look straight into her eyes. The way she looks at me is unnerving as if she’s trying to search my soul. And the way my heart thuds in my chest, it’s as if I want her to.
“You take me for what I am. I don’t need to be anything else. Not the suit; not the boss. I’m just Spencer and I like it.”
Her lips find mine. “Me, too. Now stop talking, Spencer Lancaster, and make love to me. Like a normal guy would.”
“Now, that I can do.” I want to say more but I don’t. The truth is she’s the first woman since Addison that’s held my attention. That’s made me want more. Addison did a real number on me. I never thought I’d want to date again. She was my best friend, but more than that, I thought she was the love of my life. Obviously, I was young then and I didn’t know shit about shit. Boy, did I learn my lesson. Finding the girl you hope to marry fucking some other dude will do that to you. It wasn’t until I met Olivia, that I even considered trusting another woman again.
Picking her up in my arms, I lift her and walk us to the bedroom before laying her down and crawling on top of her. I kiss a path down the side of her neck. And with that, I crawl down her body, but before she can protest and make me talk even more, my tongue juts out finding her hot and ready for me. I don’t want her to talk, I just want to make her scream. And with the first swipe against her swollen skin, she loses all her words.
She loses all reason.
Which is good, because I’m already lost in her, too.
Things with Spencer have been a little off since the baseball game. Sure, we’ve seen each other, and we can’t keep our hands to ourselves, but something isn’t right. Before the game he was stressed, always having late meetings, and when I did see him, it took some time to unwind. I have known for some time that something is bothering him, I just don’t know what. Maybe I just have too much time on my hands now that I’m not working. Maybe I’m just being crazy. But a part of me wonders if there is something more to the Addison story. Is he still in love with her? The idea makes me feel sick. I can’t imagine losing him.
The need to learn everything about them is all consuming. So I do what any crazy, insecure, jealous girlfriend would; I Google. Bad idea. Really bad idea.
First and foremost, the woman is drop dead gorgeous. She makes most models, including myself, look like trolls. Secondly, she is an heiress to one of the largest property owners in the world. And if all of this information isn’t making me want to bury myself alive in a ditch in Central Park, she also happens to be the best human being on the planet. She is the ambassador to UNICEF, and she spent a year building homes in fucking Zimbabwe, for crying out loud. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. I click a few more links and the familiar need to numb myself creeps up, gnawing away at the carefully structured wall I have created since my slip up.
Exposed: A Happily Ever After In The Making?
Are two of Manhattan’s royal families finally reuniting? That’s the question on everyone’s minds these days. The Princess of Property, Addison Price, and Hotel King, Spencer Lancaster, were spotted getting cozy at yesterday’s Yankees’ game. Sources close to Price say they have been spending a lot of time together both in and out of the office.
So the big question is . . .
What does this mean for Spencer’s flavor of the month, Olivia Miller?
We can’t wait to report.
My vision gets blurry as unshed tears collect.
Breathe.
Breathe, goddammit.
You were there. You know this is horseshit. Calm the fuck down. It means nothing. It better mean nothing. Reaching across the night table, I pick up the snow globe we got in Barcelona and I shake it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The snow drifts inside the glass. The image of a perfect time is fuzzy and unclear. I wonder how long it will take to settle?
I flop back on my bed and close my eyes, trying desperately for the images of Addison Price and Spencer to fade away. But jealousy is a wicked thing. It creeps up inside of you like a vine, feeding on your insecurities. Playing off your fears. It’s hard not to allow it to take over. To not allow it to strangle you.
An hour later and I’m still lying on my bed overanalyzing their relationship when the phone rings. It’s my old agency. The first agency that ever signed me.
Why are they calling me?
My last few gigs weren’t even through them as I was sure they would never call me again after “Incident runway.” They wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole for the last few years, and with the fact I’m no longer rail thin, I can’t possibly understand what they’d want.
Needing to know what they have to say, I swipe it up.
“Hello.”
“Olivia.”
“Yes.”
“It’s Lucinda.” The sweetness dripping from her voice has my stomach turning, but I can’t be rude, and I certainly can’t not take this call. All my contacts have dried out and I need work. Not that my parents wouldn’t support me if I needed, but the idea of crawling back to them, telling I couldn’t hack it made me sick to my stomach.
“Hi, Lucinda. How can I help you?”
“I heard you were back in New York, and I happen to have the perfect opportunity for you. Would you be interested?”
I want to tell her no. To tell her to fuck off and I don’t want her stupid campaign, but that isn’t a wise idea when I have no other options. Plus, it’s obvious all I’ll be doing if I don’t say yes is micro-managing every single thing about Spencer and Addison.
“What’s the gig?”
“It’s a lingerie shoot. New luxury line.”
These are campaigns I hate, but unfortunately, am always a
sked to do because I’m tall and my breasts are still full. With the right photographer, I’m perfect, but I can’t do this now. My body isn’t what photographers want. I have curves, I’m healthy and in turn, I’m also undesirable.
“I don’t think I’m the right person for the job, Lucinda, but thank you for thinking of me,” I say, wrapping my hands around my middle. I’m not good enough for the job, I should say, but I’m way too mortified to admit that.
“It’s not bras. It’s robes and teddies. You’d be able to hide a lot. It’s photoshopped.”
Embarrassment and shame flood me. “Okay, I can do it,” I say before I can stop myself. I’ll just have to eat limited carbs. I shouldn’t have to limit shit. I’m not fat and the fact that it’s implied that I am, is horseshit. But what choice do I have. It’s not right. I know it’s not right. Agreeing to this shoot could very well be my demise but I need it. I need this job.
A week has passed and I’ve managed to drop a few pounds before my fitting. Double workouts and limited carbs—okay, no carbs—have done the trick. I’ve spent the last four days following a strict diet program of asparagus and grilled chicken for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Physically, I feel pretty good about myself when I walk into the studio. I’ve managed to do what Lucinda told me to. Mentally, though, I acknowledge that I’ve been pulled deeper down a rabbit hole I had no business dipping my toe into. We’re shooting in the old loft space where the walls are a natural brick and exposed metal beams line the ceiling. A stark white bed with lush pillows decorating it sits in the middle of the space. It’s pristine and perfect, and I want to tear it apart and hide under the sheets when I see a few of the models already in the room.
Patrick, the photographer, is fidgeting with the lights. I go behind the curtain and he begins shooting a girl I don’t know. My gaze runs down to where her collarbone juts out, and suddenly I feel extremely out of place. But I have no choice, so I step out from behind the curtain, my full body on display.
I’m in a skintight teddy with a demi bra, and there is nothing left to the imagination. But as the makeup artist looks at me, I see how her eyes narrow. How she focuses on every imperfection marring my skin.
