by Ava Harrison
I still remember the feeling after the first line. The burning down my throat. I choked as it singed my nostrils and then dripped like battery acid. But soon a feeling weaved its way through me. An unmatched euphoric feeling.
I was no longer Olivia Miller.
Being skinny enough or pretty enough didn’t matter. What was going on back home with my family didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I was happy. I could conquer the world and I did. For some time, I really did. My bones stuck out, and I landed jobs left and right. Life was great, and with Bennett by my side, it seemed everything was perfect. But then one night everything went to shit. Bad coke . . . too much champagne . . . and I passed out on the runway.
The offers stopped after that. Runway shows were out. Trips to Milan—out. And Bennett . . .
Out as well.
He decided I was a liability to his career, so he dropped me as fast as everyone else did. Even hearing Bennett’s voice brings me back to a bad time. Muscle memory maybe. The familiar ache gliding through my veins, wanting to silence the world. I shake it off. I pick up my phone and dial Spencer instead.
“Hey, beautiful.” I hear through the phone. The baritone of his voice makes my insides melt with need and desire.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, sounding pathetic and needy but I need a distraction. Spencer is the perfect one. I don’t think about my failures so much when he’s around.
“Meeting, rain check?”
“Okay.” I can’t help the disappointment in my voice.
“If I could blow off this meeting, I would, but it’s to discuss the St. Barth’s property.”
“I understand.” And I did. It isn’t his fault I’m rattled from my earlier conversation with Bennett. He has to work and I just have to deal with that. “Call me after?”
“Promise.”
“Okay, bye.” I hang up before he says the words. The screaming in my mind to detach is starting to hammer in my mind louder and louder. Before I can change my mind, I pull out my phone and text Murph.
Me: You back in town?
Murph: Yep. You looking to party?
Me: Yep.
Today has been fucking stressful.
The Manchester deal might have fallen through, but now that everyone and their mother has realized I am expanding into Europe, my phone hasn’t stopped ringing. Every hungry real estate agent is trying to sell me land. They all know how much money the Lancasters have, and every person I have ever met is crawling out of the woodwork to sell it to me. Normally, I wouldn’t meet with anyone I haven’t done business with, but with Grant sniffing around Addison, I can’t afford to not. So I have sat through meetings, presentations, and pitches demonstrating why I should buy, but after the last property disaster, I’m more cautious, careful.
As I sit back in my chair pursuing a property in Croatia, my stomach growls. Shit, have I eaten today? No, I haven’t. I grab my phone off the desk.
Me: Have dinner with me.
Olivia: Can’t.
Me: What are you doing?
Olivia: Errands.
Me: So, stop and meet me.
Olivia: No can do. Sorry, but I can come over after.
I look at the phone, my eyes narrowing. This is the third time in the last two weeks she’s blown me off for dinner.
Me: You have to eat, Olivia.
Olivia: I will, Spencer.
I don’t need to be near Olivia to know she’s pissed that I’m on her case. I drop it.
Me: I’ll be home. Come when you’re done.
Olivia: Okay.
Something is off with her. I just can’t pinpoint what it is.
Walking out of my corporate office, I head to the front of the building where my driver is waiting. Most would think my office would be in the hotel, but as we have a downtown hotel and so many other properties, most of our day-to-day business dealings for all the properties are handled at our Park Avenue building.
It’s after seven o’clock when I finally make it to the hotel and up the private elevator. When I step inside, I see Olivia is already there, curled up on the couch. My butler must have let her in. A throw blanket covers her as she drinks a glass of the rosé I started stocking the moment I realized she liked it.
“I like seeing you on my couch when I come home from work.” As the words slip out of my mouth, I realize how true they are. I do like having her here, lying curled up on the couch, a minute away from falling asleep. God, I have it bad.
Her eyes dart open with surprise, and then her lips turn up into a smile. “I like being here when you get home.”
Silence hangs in the air with this admission.
I take a step closer. When I’m standing in front of the couch, I look down at her and then take a seat.
“I missed you,” she whispers as she climbs in my lap.
“I missed you, too.” Leaning forward, I brush my lips against hers. “It’s been too long,” I say against her mouth. “How was work?”
I feel her stiffen. “Just working hard. Nothing to tell. Trying to make the big bucks. Got to have some money to spoil my boyfriend.”
“You don’t have to buy me anything or pay for anything, Olivia.”
“Maybe I want to.”
“Why are you working so hard?” When she doesn’t answer, I pull back and notice she’s nibbling on her lower lip.
“I just . . . Well, I guess since my parents didn’t want me to do this, and then after losing the last job, I suppose I want to succeed.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.” The hypocrisy of my words tastes bitter on my tongue. I work harder than anyone I know and for what? To prove something. But it doesn’t matter. This is Olivia, not me. I don’t like seeing her like this.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Can we talk about something else? We haven’t seen each other in days. Or maybe we don’t have to talk at all.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Let me show you.” She lifts her body off me, but only enough to arrange her hands on my waist and lower the zipper to my slacks. Leaning back, I close my eyes and wait for the pleasure of Olivia’s mouth. Once engulfed, I can’t think of anything but the pleasure she brings.
When I feel myself getting closer to release. I place my hand on her shoulder. “Stop,” I pant, barely holding on. “Need to be inside you.” She lifts off me. “Clothes. Off. Now.” If I’m not inside her this minute, I might die. She makes quick work of her clothes. My breath leaves my body, but not in a good way.
“What the fuck?” I run my gaze up the length of her body, from her collarbone jutting out to the bones protruding from her hips. How have I not noticed this? How have I not seen how skinny she’s become? Anger flares inside me, but not at her. At me. I was so busy working, I never saw what was happening. But now it all makes sense. She hasn’t eaten with me in weeks. Not since she started modeling again.
“Are you eating?”
“Of course I’m eating.”
“Then how do you explain your hipbones sticking out?”
“I’m eating,” she hisses as she works to throw on her clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“So, that’s it? I ask you a question you don’t like and you leave?”
“Don’t like it, do you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’ve been in a mood ever since we’ve been back home. You never talk to me. Never tell me anything.”
“That’s different.”
Now dressed, Olivia places her hands on her hips. “How is it different?” she asks before pursing her lips.
“That’s business. And this . . .” I place a hand on her collar. “This is your health, Olivia. I care about you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I’m not. I’m just eating healthy and working out.”
“That’s it?”
She furrows her brow and then takes a deep breath. �
��Yes, that’s it,” she whispers, biting her lip. She looks as if she’s about to cry. The sight breaks me.
“Come here.” Olivia steps into my arms. “I care about you. If you ever need—”
“I’m fine.”
Despite my better judgment, I let it rest. The last thing I want is to rock the boat again.
I tossed and turned all night in Spencer’s bed, all of my lies eating away at my subconscious. When he asked me last night if I was eating, it was as if a part of me shut off. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t tell him what I’ve been doing to lose the weight. He’d never understand.
Standing, I pad my way through the bedroom and into the bathroom to freshen up. I’m dressed and brushing my teeth when I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. When I turn and face Spencer, everything inside me freezes. The way he stares at me is glacial. His green eyes hard as stone.
“What. The. Hell. Is. This?” he says slowly, the words coming out staccato. I have no idea what he’s talking about but then he flings a copy of Exposé in my face and it all becomes clear. On the front cover is me, bent over a table half-naked and snorting a line of coke. But it’s not a recent picture.
Oh my God.
Bennett.
He did this.
He leaked a picture to the magazine because I wouldn’t work with him. My heart hammers in my chest. Every part of my body begins to shake.
“I can explain.”
“You can explain.” It’s not a question. It’s not even a statement. His voice is flat, uncaring. Brittle and cold.
“It’s not what it looks li-like,” I stutter. My chin rattles in my jaw.
“Oh, no? So, it’s not my fucking girlfriend barely dressed at a photo shoot doing coke?”
“Well, it is that, but it’s not what you think. It was before.”
“So, you’re not doing coke?” he asks and I don’t answer. “It’s not a hard question. It’s either yes or no.” My gaze settles down to the floor. “So, you are? Goddammit, Olivia. Tell me the goddamn truth. For once, tell me.”
“It was only a few times.”
“I want you out of here, now.” His words are so loud, they boom off the walls around me.
“No, please let me explain—”
“Explain? Why should I? When I asked you at the hospital if you were still using, you said you weren’t. Was that a lie too?”
“It was only—”
“It’s a yes or no question, Olivia.”
“Yes.”
“This is shit I won’t stand for. I made a promise to myself when my girlfriend cheated I’d never fucking deal with lies again. I have no choice but to put up with that shit from Pierce, he’s my brother. But you? Who are you to me? No one, that’s who,” he spits out, and then goes silent. If possible, his silence cuts me deeper than any words could. Because his silence only means one thing . . .
He’s done with me.
It’s been a week. I haven’t answered her calls, and I certainly haven’t called her. Instead, I’ve worked my ass to the bone, and when I’m not working, drank myself to oblivion. Like right now, that’s what I’m about to do.
I lift the bottle to my mouth. No need for pretense. I’m not drinking to enjoy myself. I’m drunk because I’m pissed. She fucking lied to me. And if there is one thing I refuse to put up with, it’s a fucking liar.
This is the reason I don’t date anymore. It’s one thing or the other. They’re either out for my money or the acclaim that comes with being with me. That’s the one thing I miss about Addison. It was so easy. I never had to deal with this bullshit.
Fuck.
I take another deep swig of the amber liquid. It burns my throat as it pours its way down. This is pathetic. What am I doing? I’m in my goddamn prime. Lord of my own empire and I’m sitting on my floor of the hotel drinking alone. There are a million women I could call right now. Who’d be here down on all fours pleading with me to fuck them right now. But I don’t want any of them. All I want is a blond haired, blue-eyed goddess who makes me insane at times.
I should call her.
But I don’t.
I still need some time to process the lie. It’s not necessarily that she did the coke, but the lie I can’t get over. I’ve never been addicted to anything . . .
Maybe I was too hard on her.
Taking another swig, I pull my phone out and dial her number. Voice mail. She’s probably getting high. The thought infuriates me even more. I reach for the bottle, but this time it’s empty. Rather than call for another, I decide to head to the roof bar and grab a drink.
Once in the lobby, my phone rings. Addison.
“Lancaster here.”
“Spence, do you have to answer that way. You know it’s me. I certainly know it’s you.”
“Point taken. So, what can I do for you at . . .” I look down at my Rolex. “At nine p.m. on a Friday evening.”
“I’m back in town.”
“Your point.”
“I need you to sign some papers.”
“You do realize it’s nine o’clock, right?”
“Oh, shut it, Lancaster.” Her mocking tone over the syllables to my name has me laughing. “You’re one to talk. You’re always working. You work so hard you don’t even have your own place. You just jump from hotel to hotel.”
“I like it that way.”
“You like the control. Don’t want to pass over any reins to anyone else.”
“I’m smart.”
“You’re a control freak. Don’t you want roots?”
“Never said I wasn’t. And no, I don’t.” Taking a deep breath, I calm myself. “So, papers. Can it wait until morning? I’m just going to Oak to have a drink.”
“You promised me a drink. And a drink I will get. I’ll meet you there.”
When I step into Oak, the wine bar on the top floor of the building, the hostess greets me. “Hello, Mr. Lancaster,” she purrs. “Your regular table?”
I nod. My usual table is a small intimate table in a secluded alcove overlooking the city. Small candles, sheer drapes and a stunning view makes this stand one of the most sought after tables in all of the city. But I’m the owner, so it’s mine.
“Addison Price will be joining me.”
She can’t help but pout at the news. Word must be spreading through the hotel that Olivia and I are on the outs. It’s the nature of the business. As tight a ship as I run so my guest’s information won’t leak, the staff loves to gossip about me. I bet she’s hoping I’d close the curtain and show a bit of my wicked playboy ways.
My usual scotch is set in front of me by the time I make it to the table and sit. Someone deserves a raise, that’s for sure. I’ll make sure to have my assistant give Jimmy one on Monday morning.
I’m halfway through my scotch when Addison arrives at the table. She slips in beside me, her body close to mine. The warmth of the liquid permeating my body has me loose and not wanting to do business, and as the heat of her body radiates off her, my body has a mind of its own.
“Addison.” My voice is lighter than normal, and not as rough around the edges. Must be the booze.
“Rough night?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly,” I deadpan.
She reaches her hand out and squeezes mine once before setting hers back on the table. “Spence. How long have we known each other? You can talk to me.”
“Do you read Exposé?”
“Yeah,” she pauses, her eyes peering into mine, “maybe it’s for the best.” She stares at me for a second, her body inching over to mine.
“What are you doing, Addi?”
She smiles at the familiar nickname I haven’t used in years, and places her hand on my lap, dangerously close to my cock. So close she actually flicks it lightly with her fingertips. It stiffens against her in response, and she licks her lips seductively.
“I miss you,
Spence. I miss us.” Her hand covers me, palming me. I’m painfully hard now, and drunk enough that I’m not sure I care that it’s her. I could pretend it’s not. I could pretend it’s someone else and lose myself for a minute. Maybe then the pain would go away from losing Olivia.
Olivia.
What am I doing?
Just the thought of Olivia has me sobering. My eyes adjust and I see Addison more clearly now. Lifting her hand, I remove her from my crotch.
“There’s no us anymore. You took care of that when you cheated on me.”
“We were young. I was different.”
“Addison,” I warn as she moves to place her hand back on me. I grasp it in mine, halting her. “Don’t do this. Don’t do something you’ll regret later. We have a good working relationship.”
“We can have a better one.” Her face is so close to mine her breath whispers against my cheek. “Can you imagine us together? We’d be unstoppable.” And with that her lips find mine. Press against me.
Seeking entry.
Exposed: Move Over, Olivia Miller . . . Hello, Addison Price.
Word around town is our favorite CEO is out and about and he’s not with his model girlfriend . . . or should we now say ex-girlfriend.
Sources close to Lancaster say he has officially reconciled with the heir to the Price Empire. It appears Spencer Lancaster has finally tossed the trash to the curb.
Fresh off the press, plus exclusive photos from their recent rendezvous.
We can’t wait to report.
Through trembling limbs and salty tears, I examine the picture that has popped up on my iPhone. Like a glutton for punishment, weeks ago I had set it to notify me when a new post appeared. Now I wish I hadn’t.
Denial would have been easier. But there is no denying this picture on my phone. He’s back with her. We’re done.
Sadness seeps into my veins as my chest tightens to the point of pain. It feels like every last bit of air has been extracted from my lungs. Burning, ripping me apart. It soon morphs into something different. A disease, a venom, that spills into every molecule of my body, poisoning me. Strangling me. Making it hard to breathe.
