Trying to see his eyes, to calculate his next move, caused a painful strain in my neck. It was so much easier to give in. Give in to his fingers digging into my hair, massaging one minute, and bruising the next.
I tried to focus on my breathing, but the more I did, the more my lungs shrunk. All I knew were his soft lips on my ear. His breath too hot, burning up my neck. His knee causing a curling ache inside me I’d never known.
An ache threatening to consume me.
His lips were so close to my flesh. Something deep and traitorous inside me screamed kiss me. Bite me. Mark me.
“I won’t do it,” I said, voice breathy and treacherous.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he said. “You’ll give me so much.”
My eyes flew open at his dangerous words.
His lips fell on my neck.
“Theo?”
At the voice, Theo dropped me like fire and stepped back. My hand came to my neck, where his lips had left a venomous tattoo, threading into my blood, turning my view hazy as a sunset. I couldn’t string together a thought.
I needed to get my shit together, because a few feet from us was a man in a dark-gray, three-piece suit despite the summer weather. He was almost as famous for the look as he was for his ruthless business practices.
Mr. Beryl Crowne, aka the third richest man in the world, aka my grandpa. Theo’s boss, the only person to ever show me affection outside of Theo, and Theo’s meal ticket.
Beryl Crowne had been accused of many things—and indicted for none. He was a man who cared as much about his reputation as he did the price of his company’s stock. Anyone to ever publicly accuse him of something nefarious either rescinded it within the next few hours or ended up… curiously missing.
“Oh, did I forget to mention Grandpa’s home?” I said to Theo, manufacturing a frown. “I saw his motorcade right before I went to the bathroom. Must have slipped my mind.”
Grandpa loved Theo like the hardworking son he lost too early, and like the diligent grandson he never had in Gray. He’d been grooming Theo for a position in Crowne Industries since I picked him up off the street. The distinction was clear, though. Theo wasn’t blood. He wasn’t a Crowne. Don’t date my granddaughters, don’t even look at them, and don’t get any ideas about biting the hand that feeds you.
Theo stood there, dumbfounded.
I adjusted my top, acting like whatever happened between Theo and me was nothing.
It was nothing.
I ran to my grandpa.
“Papa!” I jumped into his arms.
“Princess…” He caught me in a hug, tone skeptical. “What did I just see?” He looked over my shoulders at Theo.
“You’ll have to ask Theo, Papa. You know I would never do anything to disappoint you.”
Papa had been called a megalomaniac, a narcissist, a sociopath, but he was the only one who ever gave me the benefit of the doubt.
Pantiless photo? Topless on a yacht? Three-way lip-lock? All the result of unscrupulous reporters.
If only my grandfather had been around more. The only time I saw him was for a few days in the summer, and occasionally—if lucky—on holidays.
Grandfather and I separated, and after agreeing to meet up for our swan-feeding tradition, I walked back toward Theo, who still wore a shocked look.
“That was my plan,” I whispered, walking by Theo.
Me: 1
Theo: 0
Five