The Pretend Prince

by Kim Karr

  Those blue eyes stare down at me. “No, it isn’t, but in this case, it is. And for the record, I didn’t run away from love where you were concerned—you’re the one who gave me no other choice but to turn my back on it.”

  Yes, I remember that day every day in my nightmares. I don’t need reminding.

  Feeling deflated, I wiggle my arms, and he lets go of my wrists. “It wasn’t like I had a choice, either. You’d know that if you’d listened to me. But after the producers told you what they did, you wouldn’t talk to me, Julius. You wouldn’t even listen to me. I wanted to explain my side of the story. To help you understand.” I trail off because his entire demeanor has turned cold, callous, and so unforgiving.

  As if he could care less anymore, he shrugs his shoulders. “Because it was pretty fucking evident.”

  “What was?” I practically shout it.

  This time he doesn’t laugh. “That you were only on the show to get a story. And not just any story but one to make me look bad in front of the world.”

  “Okay, yes, I went there for a story about you and found out there was no bad. In the end, I fell in love with you, Julius. With everything I had, I loved you.”

  Love you.

  The air around us thickens even more with his anger, and his eyes flash with a slow simmering hatred. “It’s very convenient that it took the show’s producers to uncover who you really were and why you were there before you admitted it. Too little too late, yeah?”

  I stare at him in bewilderment. He has to see the truth behind the big reveal. I mean, it couldn’t be more obvious. “They did that for the ratings, and you know it. I planned on telling you. They just beat me to it. Besides, I never wrote the story, nor did I ever take the money Rainer offered me.”

  He flinches at my words, and even so, I’m thankful that he let me finish because he never did before. He wouldn’t even hear me out three years ago. But then he does something so much worse—he starts clapping. “Touching. Really fucking touching, Ophelia. Bravo.”

  Ignoring his dripping sarcasm, I get back to the topic at hand. “How do you know Raquel gave me an advance, anyway?”

  That irritating smugness he wears like a badge of honor returns. “That was her on the phone just now.”

  She has his number?

  How?

  Why?

  What the hell is going on?

  He goes on. “She’s stringing you along, dangling you in front of me, and hoping to get some useful information while she does.”

  “No!”

  For once, I don’t have to ask for more, he just gives it to me. “Yes, it’s true. And she told me to brace myself for the story of the century to include none other than yourself.”

  “I don’t care what she told you; I’m not involved in this at all. I wouldn’t do that to you. Not ever. Not ever again.”

  He shakes his head. “Still see the world through those invisible rose-colored glasses of yours, isn’t that right, Ophelia?”

  “Screw you, Julius.”

  Quite abruptly, he leans forward. “You already did, in more than one way.”

  Before I can stop myself, I’m pushing him back. “Stop. Just stop.”

  Practically unmovable, he holds his ground. His strong presence is becoming even more apparent than it was seconds ago, and I know he’s more than I should be taking on.

  Not able to stand looking at the disappointment on his face another second, I turn around, dropping the damn folder I was holding in the process. Leaving it where it falls, I start to pound the OPEN button over and over again, but nothing happens. I need to get away from him, so I can think clearly. Then again, it doesn’t really matter, does it? The path I was on before coming into this elevator hasn’t changed, it’s only become more necessary.

  “I’ll stop, but what I’ve told you is the truth, and you know it.”

  Another sigh escapes me. It seems sighing is all I can do around him. Resolute, I don’t twist around when I speak. “As soon as I get out of here, I am going to tell Raquel I won’t write any story about you or be a part of any story she plans on having someone else write about you, either. More than likely, she’ll probably fire me when I do, so you’ll have nothing more to worry about because I’ll be out of your life—forever this time.”

  The heat of his body feels close, closer than before. “And if she fires you, she’ll demand that you return the advance she gave you, forcing you to take your ill mother out of the facility you recently put her in.”

  Feeling both lost and defeated, I lean my head against the panel and close my eyes. “You don’t know that.”

  Again with the laughter, and this time it seeps into my soul. “Yeah, I do. She told me so just now. Like I said, she’s dangling you over me.”

  I swallow tears that clog my throat and try not to gasp. “She can’t do that.”

  “Yes, she can,” he says on a huff. “She’s determined to make you write the story about me and air all the dirty laundry you can, one way or another. I’ll admit she used the term ‘pillow talk,’ but to her, it’s all the same—it’s simply ammunition meant to destroy my reputation.”

  My eyes widen in shock as to just how far she’s willing to go for the story. This isn’t the Raquel Livingston I know. This version of her really is ruthless, almost vile.

  Of course, he isn’t finished. “So, yeah, there you have it. She knows about us and is using you to get what she wants. If she has to blackmail the both of us to get what she wants, she will.”

  I think I start sobbing, I’m not really certain, because not even a second later, Julius has his hard body around mine, caging me in.

  In my ear, he whispers, “Tell me you’re not lying about not knowing her plan.”

  “I’m not lying,” I whisper back.

  In an instant, he whirls me around. “Tell me you didn’t know she wanted you to expose all of our secrets when you took this job.”

  I look up into his blue eyes. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t. I would never do anything to hurt you ever again. Not purposely. I swear on my mother’s life I did not know.”

  On a relieved sigh, one of his large hands tangles in my hair, and the other wraps around my waist. In this position, he yanks me roughly against him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I know that now, but it’s too late.” Before I can blink, he crushes his lips to mine in a hard, punishing kiss.

  The anger that is raging inside of me at the chaos his life is causing me again blazes out of control. I press my palms against his chest, trying to push him away. However, my tongue doesn’t get the message because it dances with his in such an erotic way; there’s no way for us to part.

  This isn’t like our kisses from three years ago. This isn’t soft, sensual, or even seductive. This is harsh, wet, fast, and full of raw anger.

  Still, even knowing Julius is angry, arousal courses through me. I haven’t been intimate with a man since him, and not for lack of wanting to move on. I just couldn’t get close to anyone else. Find anyone I wanted to share myself with.

  At this moment, everything I ever felt for Julius comes rushing back, and I want him closer. I want to feel the need and the endless joy he once brought me fill my body.

  With him practically plastered against me, my breasts swell, my clit throbs, and my heart aches for what I lost. It is both pleasure and pain in a way I’ve never experienced.

  He’s both pleasure and pain.

  Julius’s hand tightens in my hair to bring me even closer to his lips. And I go willingly, knowing I’m going to get burned. The heat between us is licking me like flames, and still, I can’t back away. “This means nothing,” he breathes into our kiss. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

  “I know,” I whisper, ignoring the stabbing feeling in my heart of the hatred he feels for me.

  With that out of the way, his other hand grips my hip, pushing me against his hard body, and that’s when his erection digs into my stomach.

&n
bsp; Oh, God.

  Tingles travel from my toes to my belly, dampening my panties with the wet heat between us, and suddenly, I’m not trying to push him away anymore. Instead, I’m curling my fingers into the lapels of his suit jacket and rocking my hips against his. “I want to help you,” I find myself telling him. “I can help you. This time, let me help you.”

  Our harsh breathing fills the elevator as he breaks the punishing kiss to glower at me with enraged lust. “How the hell do you think you can help me?”

  My heart races, fearing he is going to shut me out. “I could write the story.”

  “And then what? Let my entire world implode?”

  “No. Write my version of the story. One that proves Raquel wrong and shows the world who you are.”

  He laughs. “She wants to show the world that I am incapable of love and that the legacy of the Crown can’t live on because of my flaws. She won’t go for any other version.”

  “She doesn’t have to know.”

  His lips are hovering over mine. “Even if you could pull that off, how do you prove her wrong?”

  “Pretend.”

  “Pretend how?”

  “Let me in your life, pretend to fall in love with me, again.”

  “No fucking way,” he growls.

  “Just until Monaco Unlimited goes public.”

  His eyes gleam with an uncertain light. “You’d do that? Let me use you that way?”

  The hurt I feel is like an arrow straight to my heart; yet, I know I deserve it. So full of raw emotion, I can’t answer him, so instead, I just nod.

  Quite abruptly, he pushes me back against the wall and pins me there. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

  “You’re not asking. I want to do this. I want to write the story I should have written three years ago. The version of a Prince in love. I just need some time to do it.”

  His eyes never leave mine, and I can only stare up at him, panting, wanting, and oh, so vulnerable. “Are you sure about this? It won’t be real. You know that. I can’t forgive you.”

  With my eyes locked on his and my hot wanton breath whispering over his lips, I respond with the only answer I can. “Yes. Let’s pretend.”

  At that, his hands smooth roughly down my body to my hips and stop on the sides of my thighs, where his fingers tug the material of my skirt up. Despite the summer weather, cool air drifts over my thighs as the fabric bunches at my waist.

  I shiver.

  Not once does he break eye contact. My breath stops when he pushes my legs apart with his feet and places his free hand on the inside of my thigh. “Are you sure about this?”

  This means so many things.

  This.

  Him.

  This.

  Us.

  This.

  Pretending.

  Trembling, I feel like I might explode if he doesn’t do more, and I moan, “Yes.”

  Then, my body jerks when his fingers slip beneath the lace of my boy-short panties and roughly slide inside me.

  His eyes turn almost navy at finding me so wet, and the control he has been exuding snaps. Almost immediately, he pulls back, and it’s not only my skirt that falls, but my heart also drops. But then it starts to beat wildly when he rips off his suit jacket.

  He’s not stopping this.

  “Lift your skirt back up,” he demands, as he tosses his jacket to the ground.

  I’m not worried that we’ll be caught like this, I’m not worried about anything, actually. I only want him, so putting my fears aside, I roll up my skirt, my knees shaking as I do.

  With one stride, he’s back against me. His dress shoes forcing my legs wider, he grips under one of my thighs, jerking my leg up around his hip while his free hand unzips his pants.

  Excitement zings down my spine from the heat of him throbbing between my legs. Unabashed, I watch his blue eyes turn black with wild lust seconds before he thrusts into me.

  I don’t even care that he isn’t using a condom. We’d already gotten to that point in our relationship before.

  His thrusts are hard, fast, punishing. It’s been a while, so the intrusion of his big, thick cock burns a bit. Pleasure and pain. The only two words that can possibly best describe Julius and me.

  “Oh, God,” I cry out, remembering how I’ve never felt so full before in my life other than with this man. “This is like a dream.”

  “Not God, baby. Just me. And this time, I might just be your worst nightmare.”

  “I don’t care,” I whisper. And I don’t. I don’t care what he says, our connection is there, stronger than ever. He can deny it all he wants. I feel our burning need all the way to my soul. Bursts of pleasure tingle down my spine, rippling like bolts of electricity in my belly as he slides out and then thrusts back into me.

  Our panting breaths blow against each other’s lips, and I grip his waist, urging him closer, harder, faster.

  Punish me.

  Make me whole.

  Ruin me.

  Shatter me.

  Put me back together.

  “Fuck,” Julius groans and picks up his pace. When he does, my head flies back against the wall. At the same time, he bends to find my neck and suck on the sensitive skin there.

  “Julius,” I moan. That’s when we break our eye contact for the first time, and that’s when he really let’s go.

  He fucks me.

  Hard.

  He fucks me.

  Fast.

  He fucks me.

  With abandon.

  There is not an ounce of lovemaking in his angry thrusts, and yet it takes barely any time for the tension inside of me to rise. Before I know it, I’m spiraling higher and higher, and then suddenly, I’m at the top of a cliff. The next hard drive he makes into me, I close my eyes and allow him to push me over the edge. Soon, I am falling, and stars are exploding behind my lids.

  “Look at me,” he growls.

  When I open my eyes, a cry tears from my throat like one from a wild animal, and my eyes roll back inside my head.

  Only with him have I ever experienced anything like this—primal need. Wave after wave of deep, hard pleasure rolls through me long after it should. And with each ripple of my orgasm that clenches around Julius’s dick, the sensation magnifies until there is both pleasure and pain for the both of us.

  His loud, guttural groan sounds in my ear, and his bruising grip on my thigh tightens with even more pain as he starts to come. His hips jerk against me wildly, but then he pulls out, spilling his wet heat on me instead of inside of me.

  The remorse I feel at the act isn’t sane. He no longer knows if I’m on birth control, and he wants to be safe, so why does it bother me that he pulled out?

  Our harsh breathing seems to echo off the elevator walls as Julius slumps against me.

  Once he catches his breath, he lets go of my thigh. My leg suddenly drops to the floor. Like this, my knees feel weak, and I’m finding it hard to hold myself up, but thankfully, he is still close enough to keep me upright.

  “Why’d you do that?” I ask, unable to stop thinking about him pulling out.

  “Fuck you?”

  “No,” I laugh, even though my heart is beating so fast against my ribs, I’m finding it hard to breathe. Why did you pull out?”

  Reluctantly, he lifts his head from my shoulder and stares at me. “I didn’t have any condoms with me, and we didn’t discuss it first.”

  “I’m still on the pill.”

  Relief lights up his eyes. “Good. And I’m clean. I got tested after I broke up with Liz, and I haven’t been with anyone since.”

  I let out a shaky breath; there is so much to decipher in that sentence. Did he break up with her? The press had it the other way around. And he’s been with no one since? The press has him screwing every woman he looks at. “I’m clean, too,” I tell him. “I haven’t slept with anyone since you.”

  His response is to step back.

  I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that last part, but I re
fuse not to tell the truth when it comes to this man. I did that once, and I ruined my life because of it.

  “This was a mistake,” he tells me, looking down to zip his pants.

  “What was a mistake?” I ask, pushing my skirt down, feeling his cum soaking into my skin, and marking me as I do. “The angry sex or agreeing to pretend to fall for me?”

  “Both,” he mutters.

  I step toward him and bring his chin down to look at me. His face is broken, and I know I did this to him, so I can’t even be upset. “Put the past behind you, Julius, and let me help you. I owe you this.”

  Before he can answer, there’s the sound of banging on metal. “Anyone in there?” a man shouts.

  Julius stares at me, broken, angry, brooding.

  “When the doors open, leave quickly,” I tell him. “Raquel will never know you were even here. I’ll go upstairs and tell her I will follow her plan. That I’ll try to make you fall for me, and that then I’ll write her story.”

  He shakes his head no.

  “It will keep her pacified, and you know it.”

  The doors start to open. “It’s just pretend,” he reminds me, letting me know he’s going along with it under his rules.

  “I know,” I tell him again as a man in maintenance overalls appears between the doors.

  Julius rushes past him with his head down, and I watch him walk away from me, feeling unsure about almost everything.

  What I do know though, is that I broke us. That he can’t forgive me. That he hates me. And yet, that thing called hope creeps under my skin.

  Even though I know it shouldn’t.

  FACE THE MUSIC

  The Present

  Five steps inside the editor-in-chief’s office and I’m blinded by the shiny red bookcases behind the glossy white desk. Blinded by the amount of crystal-cut awards sitting on the shelves.

  The Ellie Award.

  The Kelly Award.

  The VQR Award.

  Raquel Livingston has been at the helm of this magazine for over ten years and has won three very prestigious awards. I don’t understand why she’d risk all she’s achieved to write a dirty tale about the youngest Prince of Wimberly.