Chapter Ten

Left on Read

Crossbody

“Now, darling.” Corey took a delicate sip of his pink martini and set his glass down, leaning back in his seat. “Tell me what happened.”

It was the following Tuesday evening, and we were in Dusk, the elegant cocktail bar we usually favoured when we went out for drinks together. It was owned by shadowpeople, so the lighting was low and moody, the atmosphere was hushed and the drinks were strong.

“With what?” I asked before sipping my gin and tonic, even though I knew what he was referring to.

Corey rolled his eyes. “With your match against Vince, obviously. Was that switch-up at the end really planned?”

“Of course it was,” I said smoothly, making sure to keep my expression calm and bored as I glanced around the bar.

I could relax here, because none of the other wrestlers had any interest in coming to a place like this. They preferred Gargy’s, the loud and run-down dive bar on the next street, where the tables were always sticky and the seat cushions were stained and ripped.

“Because it really seemed like you caught Vince off guard,” Corey continued, eyeing me with a hint of suspicion. “It looked like he was saying something to you while you were pinning him. And he looked positively livid.”

“He’s a good actor,” I said with a stiff shrug, my lip curling from giving Burke a compliment.

I still had absolutely no idea why he’d helped me in that situation. Holt could have fired me. He’d had reason to. Vince had been right—what I’d done was dangerous and foolish.

I’d just been… not desperate, but close to it. Unable to accept that he would humiliate me—again—and beat me. I hadn’t been thinking all that clearly. I hadn’t even planned to do it. Not until the few seconds before I actually did.

But I’d still made sure to be careful, to not actually injure him. I hated Vince, but that didn’t mean I wanted to hurt him. I wasn’t a monster.

“So you two actually managed to have a conversation without it devolving into a bickering match?” Corey asked, raising a brow. “Technically, you shouldn’t have even spoken to each other. You’re not to interact outside of rehearsals, when I’m present.”

“We assumed it would be fine because it was about the match.” I managed to keep any venom out of my voice. I despised being treated like a child. Ordered not to speak to someone. Even if that someone was Vince, who I didn’t want to interact with anyway.

I wished none of it had happened. I wished I’d just stuck to the script, because then Vince would have had no reason to accost me in my dressing room after the match.

And we wouldn’t have…

I cringed and gulped down a mouthful of my drink, trying not to think about it. Every time I did, heat gathered in the pit of my stomach and my cock reacted.

My win in the match didn’t even feel like any kind of victory. I’d still lost. I’d still ended up humiliating myself, once again turning into that mindless, desperate, pathetic mess with him. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I didn’t know why or how he could make me act like that. I didn’t know what to think about any of it.

“ You’re just a dirty little slut, aren’t you, Crossbody? Your highness ? ”

A shiver raced up my spine, so I gulped down more of my gin and tonic. I wasn’t. I wasn’t that. I was a prince. I was refined and dignified.

When I had sex—admittedly, it had been a while before Burke—I was in control. I was graceful and elegant. Sensual. Alluring. Not messy. Not… gagging on a cock with spit running down my chin or humping the other person desperately because I’d lost all rational thought.

I wasn’t the needy, slutty thing he somehow managed to make me become. I wasn’t. Not usually.

But I’d also never responded to someone so strongly before. And I hated it.

“Well.” Corey’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, making heat rush to my cheeks as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “At least your request for Holt to pair you up seems to have achieved what you hoped it would, if you were able to have a civilised conversation.”

“Yes. Working together seemed to help.” My voice was hoarser than before.

“And that’s fortunate, seeing as you and Vince are fighting again this weekend.” Corey raised a brow at me.

I tensed at the reminder. We’d gotten the match line-ups this morning at work, and Holt had indeed paired us up again for what he called our ‘redemption match.’

“Do not fucking deviate from the script this time,” he’d told us sternly. “You two are going to set an example. Follow the fucking script, follow Hogbody’s instructions, and behave like the damn professional wrestlers you are. If I see so much as a foot move an inch further than what you practise in rehearsal, I swear to god I’ll… Well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be bad. Like, really bad. I’m super serious. Do not make me become a tyrant, because I will. I have the outfits for it already and everything.”

Vince had not looked happy. I wasn’t either. But neither of us had dared to argue.

There had been this disgusting, uncomfortable sensation in my gut since the night of our match. Almost like… guilt. Which was ridiculous. I hadn’t asked Vince to try and get me out of trouble. I’d been fully prepared to take the fall for my foolhardy actions.

For once, he’d been blameless.

But that didn’t mean I could bring myself to thank him. He’d still humiliated me that night. Calling me those names, making me mindless, taunting me.

Stroking my cock and rutting against me until I’d been sobbing with pleasure.

I loathed him for making me act that way. For getting me to expose myself so much in front of him. For, once again, taking back all the power and control.

I loathed him.

“Anyway, enough about work.” Corey picked up his martini and held it out to clink his glass against mine. “What have you been up to? Any dates?”

I tensed but tried not to show it. Dating and relationships were an extremely touchy subject for me. For multiple reasons. When Corey asked me about it, I usually just lied and said I’d been seeing someone but it had fizzled out.

I did the same now. “I’ve been out to dinner with a few people, but no one really held my attention.”

He laughed, sipping his drink. “You’re so picky, darling. I understand. I am too.”

“I don’t think I’m picky, I just… have expectations.” I shrugged lightly. “It’s hard to find someone with the same interests as me.”

I knew that wasn’t an easy feat. I was a fae prince who wrestled professionally. That alone was a juxtaposition that people struggled to understand. And I knew that many people would consider the few hobbies I had as dull or isolating, but I preferred them that way. I liked doing them alone, because they were the things that soothed me.

Corey cocked his head. “I think I’d get bored if someone I was with only liked the same things as me.”

“But you at least need some common interests. Like preferring a nice restaurant over”—I curled my lip and waved a hand—“picking up a greasy burger at the drive-thru of a cheap fast food place and calling it a date.”

That was probably what Vince did. Not that I cared what Vince was like on a date.

Corey laughed. “Sometimes a greasy burger is just what you need.” He shot me a sly grin. “And sometimes the kind of person who would buy you a greasy burger on a date is just what you need too.”

I made a show of shuddering as I sipped my drink. “Not for me.”

“Have you tried it?”

“Tried what? A burger?” My lip curled. “Thankfully, no.”

Corey laughed. “No, darling. Having a dirty fuck with someone who’s a bit rough around the edges.”

In an instant, Vince’s gaunt, smirking face popped into my mind, making heat crawl up my neck.

“No,” I rasped quickly. “Of course not. Of course I haven’t.”

“You should,” Corey said decisively, picking up his drink and sitting back as he eyed me. “Might do you some good.”

“Should I be offended?” I drawled, sipping my martini and smoothly crossing my legs.

“No, no. I’m just saying it might… help you discover new things. You haven’t lived in this world all that long, darling, all things considered. And it’s very different to where you came from.”

I knew that. Even though I had visited this realm many times before, often sneaking out behind my mother’s back, it had still been a culture shock when I’d actually moved here. All the technology. The sheer number of people. The busy, frenetic pace of life. Everything was loud and fast and frantic, with no time or space to pay attention to the simple pleasures or bask in nature.

That was one of the few things I missed about Otherworld. How lush and green it had been. The smell of the palace gardens—the wonderful, sickly sweet scent of blooms cut through with the earthiness of dirt and grass.

I tried to recreate it here, but my garden was small and limited, and plants were fucking expensive.

“The people here are very different,” Corey continued. “You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who can relate to your experience of growing up as royalty in a palace.”

“I know that. I don’t expect that.” I didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so I waved a hand and added, “Anyway, I prefer being on my own.”

My chest ached a little as I said it.

“I understand.” Corey was nodding. Then he made a face and reached over to smooth his huge hand over Cora’s russet fur. She was curled up in a ball on a cushion beside him, fast asleep. “Although I don’t think I’d be able to cope if I was completely on my own. But yes, sometimes my baby is all the company I need.”

“Mm.” My brow quirked as I eyed the dog. I’d never understood the desire for a pet. Some fae had working animals back in Otherworld, and a few had companion creatures, but it was far more common here. It seemed like the majority of households decided to willingly allow a wild animal to just roam free in their homes, leaving dander over everything and, I don’t know, shitting on the floor.

Vile.

“Have you thought about getting a dog?” Corey asked brightly. “Or a different kind of pet?”

I managed to suppress my derisive snort, because I didn’t want to offend him. “No. I’m not a pet person.”

“I thought the same until I got Cora.” He looked down at her fondly, smoothing his big thumb over the bridge of her snout. “You’d be surprised by just how fulfilling it can be to care for another living creature that way, to be completely responsible for them.”

“There’s a very good chance I’ll be responsible for the well-being of an entire kingdom one day,” I said flippantly, even though my entire body wanted to clench up with dread and terror as the words left me. “So I think I’ll just wait until then.”

“Maybe you’re more of a cat person,” Corey said, undeterred.

My lip curled. “What, exactly, is a ‘cat person?’”

“Maybe you’d prefer a pet that isn’t so completely dependent on you, like a dog is. That doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with you. Cats are more solitary. They do their own thing.”

“So what’s the point of having one?” I asked blankly.

He laughed. “Because it’s still a little creature to come home to. Something that loves you and keeps you company.”

“I’m not particularly interested in coming home to wet fur balls coughed up on my hardwood floors,” I drawled, but my chest was aching just a little again.

It was still somewhat strange to me, coming home to a dark and empty house every night. The palace was always full of people, although admittedly, most of them were staff.

That had to be what made it hard. Not the knowledge that I was completely alone at night, but not having someone to light my fire and get my bedroom ready for me. Not having staff on hand to get me whatever I wanted at any time of the day. Not having a cook to make me anything I fancied at a moment’s notice.

I wasn’t lonely. Definitely not. I was above needing people. I was just… accustomed to a certain lifestyle. And it was hard to get used to the one I’d chosen instead.

I didn’t need a fucking pet. That would imply that my life wasn’t fulfilling enough. It would send the wrong message.

To whom, I didn’t really know. But it would.

“Again, you’d be surprised by what you don’t mind doing when it’s your own pet.” Corey chuckled, scritching Cora’s side and making her back leg twitch. “I’ve had to clean this little one’s tush many times when she’s had an upset stomach.”

“Corey, please,” I muttered disdainfully into my drink.

“She has a very refined palate. The cheap food just does not agree with her.”

“Well then, the dog and I have something in common.”

Corey laughed, draining the last of his martini and pushing back his seat to gracefully stand. “Another, darling?” he asked as he grabbed his purse.

“Please.” I finished my gin and tonic and pushed the glass away from me, glancing down to make sure condensation hadn’t dripped onto my trousers. They were forest green palazzo pants made of high-quality linen, and I’d paired them with a tucked in, elegantly loose-fitting cream shirt that was unbuttoned to my collarbone.

That was one of the things I loved most about living here independently—the freedom to wear whatever I wanted, not just the stiff tunic-and-trouser sets in my mother’s court colours.

Once, when it had been a particularly hot day at the palace and I’d been planning to go for a walk, I’d dared to wear a tight, sleeveless turtleneck that I’d bought on a visit to this world. When my brothers had seen me, they’d laughed. And when my mother had seen me, she’d sneered at me in disgust and told me to get changed immediately, saying I looked like a degenerate.

Because of a fucking turtleneck.

As I waited for Corey to return with our drinks, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Blinking in surprise, I pulled it out. I rarely got texts. The Goliaths had a group chat that I was, unfortunately, a part of, but I’d muted it years ago. I never spoke in it.

The number wasn’t one I had saved, and when I opened my messages and saw the first few words of the new text, my stomach plummeted and my heart gave a mighty thud in my chest.

Hey. It’s Vince. I got…

I stared down at it, breathing faster. Why was he texting me?

We hadn’t spoken since the night of our match. Our next one was on Sunday this time, so Hogbody had spent today focusing on the rehearsals for the Thursday and Friday night shows, not ours yet.

My palms began to sweat as I gripped my phone too tight. Part of me was desperate to tap on that message and find out what he’d said. The other part was filled with utter dread.

I put my phone down on the table without opening the text, then picked it up again. Then glanced back to make sure Corey was still at the bar.

Swallowing thickly, I finally opened the message, my vision wavering a bit as I tried to read it as fast as possible.

Hey. It’s Vince. I got your number from the group chat. I know this is awkward as fuck, and I have no idea how you feel about what happened last week, but I guess I wanted to apologise because it feels like I did something wrong. I shouldn’t have refused to leave your dressing room. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I’m not excusing what you did in our match, because it was fucking outrageous, but I said things I know I shouldn’t have. So yeah, I’m sorry for that. Let’s just get through this next match with as little fucking interaction as possible.

Anxious sweat was prickling in my armpits as I read it. He was apologising? For the things he’d said to me in my dressing room? For what he’d called me? The way he’d spoken to me? I swallowed, staring down at my phone, feeling utterly confused as something almost like disappointment made my gut sink.

Was I supposed to respond? What the hell was I meant to say? Did he expect me to apologise too? I already had. I’d said sorry about what I’d done in our match when Holt was dressing us both down for it.

There was a slight tremor in my hands as I poised my thumbs over the keyboard, having absolutely no idea what to type, or if I even wanted to say anything back to him. But if I didn’t reply, would he think that meant he was the bigger person? That was probably the only reason he’d done it. It sounded sincere, but it was Vince. Everything was a competition with him.

I didn’t want to address the… incident. Either incident. I was too embarrassed. I still felt too raw over what had happened. But surely I had to at least acknowledge him. We would have to work together closely again this week, and I absolutely could not do anything that would cause more contention. Then Holt probably would fire me.

Tongue darting out to wet my lips, I started typing.

Agreed. Let’s just get through it. I

I stopped, hesitating, then deleted that ‘I.’ That was enough, wasn’t it? We didn’t have to discuss the rest. I’d already apologised for my part in what had happened last week.

I felt jittery all of a sudden, tense and on edge. After another long pause, I deleted the rest of the message and tried to think of something else to say.

“Here we go.” Corey suddenly reappeared, making me jump. I hastily stuffed my phone into my pocket as he set my fresh gin and tonic on the coaster in front of me and sat back down with a satisfied sigh, sipping his martini.

“Appreciate it.” I picked up my drink and downed half of it.

More alcohol was what I needed before I replied to Vince. Yes, that was an excellent plan.