Chapter Twelve

“Nine Facts About Hallion’s New Bodyguard!”

The next day, Keller called to let me know Ransom was officially the new Kylie Jenner bodyguard: too hot to handle and the talk of La La Land.

He went on to read every word in the article. Apparently, Hollywood was now obsessed with my close protection officer after he’d chased down a pap.

It was barely eleven in the morning in Texas, and already I had four missed calls from socialites in L.A., demanding to know if Ransom would be available to work for them in the near future.

“…worked as an offensive counterintelligence officer…” Keller read in a clandestine tone. “That means he attempted to turn enemy agents into double agents or gave them false or misleading information—isn’t that hot?”

I faked a yawn. For some reason, I was embarrassed and petrified to admit I liked Ransom, even to my closest friend.

“He has a master’s in mechanical engineering from MIT,” Keller continued.

“What, no PhD? Can someone say loser?” I snorted, painting my toenails neon green, desperately trying to sound uninterested.

Ransom and I hadn’t spoken to each other since that almost-kiss. He seemed to have retreated back into his hostile shell.

I heard Keller clicking on his mouse. “Says here that he’s single. Twenty-nine. Has a big penthouse worth a few million in Chicago.”

“How fantastically cliché.”

“Says the heiress living in the L.A. mansion.” Keller chuckled.

“Former First Daughter,” I corrected prissily. “And for your information, I swim against the stream. I didn’t go to an Ivy League school, marry a nice Jewish man, or open a charitable foundation. I’ll have you know, I’m a non-conformist!”

“Yeah, yeah.” It was Keller’s turn to yawn. “Have you banged him yet?”

“Keller!”

“That’s not a no.”

“No, no, no!”

“How come he is still working with you? I thought you were planning to sabotage and make him quit.”

“He is more hardheaded than me,” I admitted.

“That’s a first.” There was a pause before Keller said, “You know, I think he’s going to be huge in Hollywood.”

“I don’t think he’ll be sticking around,” I said, with relief. The thought of Ransom trailing behind another woman—a beautiful woman—made snakes slither in my stomach. They twisted together into a venomous ball.

We hung up. I drew myself a long, warm bath, then curled my hair and slipped into a yellow crochet-trimmed mini dress. Last night, I’d downloaded an interview with a psychologist about how to treat dyslexia to keep my mind off of Ransom. It was really inspiring, and I already had a lot of ideas on how to improve my life.

When I got back to my bedroom, a USB waited by my laptop.

Huh. That’s weird.

Certain it was from my parents, I shoved it inside and watched as a window popped open on the screen, containing an audio document titled HeraBridesmaidSpeech.mp3.

But when I double-clicked it, the low, gruff voice that filled the room was unmistakable.

Ransom.

He’d recorded the speech for me.

I closed my eyes. Thank you.

I slipped my earbuds in and let his voice seep into me, calm and commanding. It mortified me, how out of focus I became while listening to him. How my thighs clenched deliciously whenever his voice hit the pit of my stomach. My breathing turned heavy and ragged. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, that we were parting ways in just a few months.

This kind of temptation, it never had a happy ending.

After memorizing the speech, I finally made my grand appearance in the living room…only to be met with a smiling, oblivious Max. My heart dropped.

No Ransom?

Max sat on the couch, reading one of his thick sci-fi books.

“Hey, Hallie!” He stood up.

In that exact moment, I realized my fascination with Ransom had crossed the line of curiosity and turned into something bigger. Beastly and ghastly, out of control.

Possibly recognizing my distress and disorientation at seeing him and not Ransom—whom I bet was screwing another woman right now—Max suggested we go get some shopping done. My parents were still in D.C., and so was Hera.

“You must need to grab some pre-wedding items, right? Gifts and such.”

I nodded faintly, my mind a million miles away. Only when we hit the shops did I remember I couldn’t actually buy anything. Nor had I the desire to, for that matter.

“Max.” I let out an embarrassed laugh as we slid out of the car. “I don’t have a credit card. Let’s turn around and go home.”

Max produced a card from his pocket, wiggling his eyebrows. “For emergencies only. But putting a smile on your face qualifies as an emergency to me.”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

He was so nice, so wholesome, I hated myself for not being attracted to him. What was wrong with me? Why did I want the one man who would probably break me all over again?

“I won’t get into trouble so quickly.” He ducked his head, his cheeks flushing. “Ransom and Tom are notoriously hard to please. They barely hire. They wouldn’t let me go so fast.”

“Well, if you say so.”

I made a reluctant attempt at grabbing a few pieces of fine china I thought were appropriate as a wedding gift for a young couple (Hera would not appreciate secondhand anything). Afterwards, Max got us iced coffees and we sat in a park and bird-watched. The day crawled to its end, each minute dragging across my nerves deliberately slow.

“Where’s Ransom?” I asked when we slipped back into the Explorer.

“Hell if I know. He’s a very secretive man.”

“He didn’t take the car,” I noted.

“Not this old thing.” Max took off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes before putting them back on. “He rented a rad-ass Bugatti. You should see it, Hallie. It’s a piece of heaven.”

“Driven by a piece of work. What is it about smart men and dumb cars, anyway?” I wondered.

“It’s an expense.”

“So my father’s footing the bill?”

“Pretty much.”

Nice to see Ransom was using his spare time polluting the environment.

But this piece of information worked to my advantage, because when we got back to the hotel and Max parked the Explorer, I noticed we passed a Chiron Noire—a three million dollar beast on wheels—parked at the far end of the lot.

He was here.

In my head, I’d already gone through the images of him and a leggy blonde doing all kinds of sordid acts together while Max took me on my daily walk, as if I were a Chihuahua. I was so frustrated—so incredibly furious with Ransom—that I forgot to be a good person and did something terrible to Max.

I slipped my hand in his when we entered the service elevator leading up to my suite. Max’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, pinned on our entwined fingers. I bumped my shoulder to his, mustering an encouraging smile.

Max’s eyes dropped to my mouth. I felt horrible for using him, and yet exhilarated at the prospect of being caught by Ransom.

“What’s happening here, Hal?” Max asked softly.

“What do you want to happen?”

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “I don’t know?”

The elevator dinged open. He forgot to survey the hall before we stumbled out, his focus solely on me.

We stood in front of my door. Exhilaration made my fingers shake. No excuse sufficed for what I was about to do to Max. Use him in the worst possible way. Maybe land him in trouble. But I couldn’t help myself. I was so, selfishly hungry for the man on the other side of that door that I’d left my scruples like a husk of shed snakeskin back in the parking lot.

“Should we?” he wondered aloud. “I mean, I’m not supposed to—”

“We definitely should.”

As soon as I rose on my toes, Max’s mouth descended toward mine. His lips missed the mark, landing on the tip of my nose, before grazing over my cheek. My heart twisted in my chest when I realized this was his version of dipping his toes into the water, checking the temperature.

I’m so sorry, Max. I’ll make it right. I promise.

I laced my arms around his shoulders and pulled him the rest of the way, my lips pressing hard against his, closemouthed. Purposefully—cunningly—I bumped my arm against the surface of the suite’s door, producing a soft and audible thud.

Max’s mouth opened for me, searching, asking for more. Feeling like I was out of my body, out of this moment, I complied, the tip of my tongue swirling around his teasingly. Max’s forehead dropped to mine and a growl came from somewhere deep in his chest, signaling his complete surrender.

As if on cue, the door flew open, and in my periphery, stood the powerhouse to all my fantasies.

The weird thing was, the kiss lasted for a few more seconds before Ransom cleared his throat. I was the first to pull away. Max was higher on desire, his descent back to reality more gradual.

Feigning surprise, I looked between my two bodyguards.

Time to save Max.

“Now, before you get your panties in a twist, it was all my idea,” I squeaked, placing a protective hand over Max’s arm. “I launched myself at him.”

“He’s a big boy. He could’ve fought you off.” Ransom’s smile, white and glorious as it was, was full of derision.

I knew I shouldn’t expect hysterical tears and a tantrum, but his calmness reminded me he was the big, bad wolf and I was the na?ve, red-hooded girl who would get eaten if she wasn’t careful.

“Shit.” Max winced, looking around us for a distraction. “Ransom, I can explain—”

“Doubt it.” His boss shrugged, making himself comfortable on the threshold, not letting either of us inside.

“It’s not what it looks like—”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“Hallie and I have been getting to know each other—” Max rubbed at the back of his neck, his ears pink.

“That’s what happens when you shadow a person all day. You wanna tell me you pork all your clients?” Ransom crossed his arms flippantly.

Max looked desperate. Guilt ate at my insides like acid. I stepped between them, tilting my chin up. “As I said, I kissed Max. It was my idea. He had nothing to do with it.”

“As I said, I don’t give two shits. You’re not a part of this conversation.” Ransom stared past me, at Max.

He couldn’t even look at me. Was that good or bad? I didn’t know.

There’s no way of telling if he was jealous, or just pissed off because he had to deal with this complication.

“Max, go back to your room. I need to get the paperwork sorted before I sack your ass. Brat, inside.” Ransom jerked his chin toward the suite. That’s when I realized he hadn’t called me Brat in quite a while.

Until now.

I walked inside, but not before squeezing Max’s hand reassuringly. “I’m going to fix this,” I whispered to him.

“No, you won’t.” Ransom slammed the door behind us, striding toward the floor-to-ceiling window, knotting his fingers behind his back as he looked onto the restaurant garden downstairs.

“Did you enjoy your time off?” I kicked off my wedges. I couldn’t keep the venom out of my voice.

Did you have sex with someone else again?

“Not as much as you did.” He walked over to a Parisian bar cart and fixed himself some whiskey, heavy on the rocks. He didn’t offer me any. Our unspoken connection, that fragile bond that was created when he realized how deeply I’d been wronged by my family, had snapped like a wishbone.

“I find that hard to believe.” I started unbuttoning the front buttons of my dress. He’d played this trick so many times with me, it was only fair I’d reciprocate and get undressed in front of him. But his back was to me, so he couldn’t see. “Last time you took time off, a woman got compromised against the suite’s window.”

Ransom turned on his heel, nursing his drink, his eyes narrowed in disdain. “And you kissed Max because it kills you that you’re not that woman.”

“Nice story.” I tried my hand at a calm smile.

“It’s the truth, and the fact it was your doing, your fuck-up, is the only reason why I didn’t fire his ass on the spot.”

Ransom saw right through my charade. He knew I wanted him. Knew I was damaged just like him.

“I kissed Max because he’s cute and because I wanted to have some fun.”

“And yesterday?” Ransom cocked an eyebrow and referred to our almost-kiss.

Flipping my hair, I said, “No offense, Ransom, but you’re too old for me.”

The only thing getting old was the bullshit I was spewing at the speed of light. I was delirious with need, and nothing, and no one else could make it better but him.

He waltzed over to where I stood, my dress half undone. He smirked, crushing a perfectly transparent ice cube between his white, straight teeth.

My spine melted in that moment, it was so hot.

“What do you want, Princess?”

I blinked, considering the possibility of telling him the truth, versus feeding him another lie. I decided the truth was better. Ransom never shamed me for my truth. Not for my dyslexia, and not for my life choices.

“I want…” I craned my neck, trying to appear regal and dignified. “I want what you did to her.”

It felt good to let the truth out. Even if I couldn’t understand my reaction to this man.

“I want to do to you what I did to her,” he surprised me by saying, his voice matter-of-fact. I allowed myself a moment of breathlessness at his words.

Yes. Finally.

“But I also don’t want to mess up my life, either. Guess which option appeals to me more right now?”

“Nothing wrong with a little walk on the dark side.” I mustered the courage to run my hand over his chest. He clasped my wrist, pushing it away. My back was pinned against the wall. He stood close enough for me to smell his breath, the whiskey on it, his aftershave, and that singular, sour-sweet sweat of a man.

“You’re not worth it,” he sneered.

“Is that why I can feel your erection digging into my thigh?” In my boldest move yet, I cupped his cock through his slacks. He was hard and terrifyingly large. I’d never touched a penis before. Willingly, anyway. I kept my hand there, even though I didn’t know what to do next.

“Hallie,” he warned.

“What?” My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “Nothing’s happening here,” I said innocently.

He studied my face. I could tell he was at war with himself.

“I don’t fuck gentle,” he hissed.

“No one’s asking you to.” I swallowed. “I want the fantasy. The degradation. I want you to break me completely, and then me to pick myself up without anyone’s help.”

I started rubbing at his shaft. It was clumsy—my hand was at a weird angle—but after a few seconds I felt his cock twitch in my palm in response.

“Nothing’s happening here,” I repeated.

“Nothing?” His silky voice caressed every inch of my body, his lips so close to mine.

“Nothing.” I licked my lips, waiting for him to kiss me. I looked up, tilting my head so that our mouths were perfectly aligned.

“You want a kiss, don’t you?” A mean smirk graced his lips. “I don’t think so. Not after you exchanged saliva with Max.”

I felt his fingers brush the inside of my thigh. My knees became weak. I opened up my limbs like a flower, inviting him to come and play. My hand rubbed his cock harder. I couldn’t believe we were doing this. But then I also couldn’t believe it had taken us so long.

I’d always wanted him.

From the moment I saw this stranger looming over me while I was on the balcony, sunbathing, a twisted, sick part of my brain had wanted him to pin me to the sunbed and fuck my mouth while I lay there, helpless.

“Take your tits out,” he ordered dryly.

I withdrew my hand from his cock to work at the final few buttons, but he cupped my palm, keeping it pressed against his shaft.

A sardonic smirk touched his beautiful lips. “I trust you can multitask.”

My left hand fumbled with the rest of the buttons of my dress, until I gave up and tore it open. My breasts spilled out. I didn’t wear a bra. My boobs were always my best asset. Perky and pear-shaped, my pink nipples as small as two diamonds.

Ransom stared, taking them both in.

“And you?” I asked groggily, sounding drunk, even to my own ears. “Have you kissed someone today?”

He scooped an ice cube from his whiskey tumbler and trailed it between my tits, swirling it around one of my nipples. We both watched as it puckered, straining with sensitivity, begging to be sucked and licked.

“What am I going to do with you?” he hissed.

“Lick it better?” I smiled innocently at him.

“Only good girls get rewarded. Bad girls, however…”

He removed the ice cube from my nipple, moving it down, along my inner thigh—going up, up north. “Oh, and while we’re on the subject, I don’t kiss my hookups. Too many germs.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

“That’s the answer you’re getting.”

“Who told you I want to do anything with you if you just had your dick in someone else?”

He gave me an awful look of indulgent compassion as if I were a stupid child. “No problem there. You’re not getting dicked tonight.”

His fingers and the ice cube stopped at the center of my panties. A pool of cold water formed over the fabric. I stopped rubbing him, but only because no part of me could function I was so aroused.

“Remember, Brat, nothing’s happening here.”

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I panted. “Nothing. Please.”

With his expression still glacial and bored, he tucked my panties to one side, sliding whatever was left of the ice cube—and his index finger—into me.

I let out a feral moan, chasing his touch, writhing against the wall. My virginity, at least in the technical sense, had been taken by a dildo when I was seventeen years old. And though I’d given myself many orgasms in my life, nothing had ever felt as acutely good as what he was doing to me.

“What are we doing?” His lips hovered over mine teasingly. Every time I tried to reach to kiss him, he moved away.

“Nothing.” My breath picked up speed, telling him what he wanted to hear. “Nothing at all.”

“Good girls get rewarded.”

He added his middle finger into me, the ice dissolving inside me completely. My own juices and the cold water dripped down my legs, mixing together, traveling from my thighs to my calves.

“Ride my fingers now, Princess.”

“Or what?”

Our eyes met. He searched mine relentlessly for traces of doubt.

I want the fantasy. I want you not to be considerate, or gentle.

“Or”—his lips dragged along the side of my neck—“I’m going to throw you over my bed headfirst and fuck your ass until you bleed.”

Oh. My. God.

Fear and excitement coursed through me. I pushed up and down, grinding into his body for added friction as I rode his fingers. I closed my eyes, my pleasure mixed with shame for what he was making me do. I knew he was watching, and I knew he was getting a kick out of the full control he had over me.

“Ransom…”

“No talking,” he said, not moving an inch, just standing there with his fingers erect while I fucked them.

“Give me a third finger. Please.”

“No.”

“Please.” God, what was I doing? I was already regretting my behavior, and still, I continued. I picked up speed, feeling my orgasm making its way from my toes up.

“Why’d you kiss Max?” he growled.

“To piss you off!” I cried out.

“Consider this payback.”

Just like that, he drew his fingers away, seconds from my orgasm. He stepped back. I slacked against the wall, my legs piling beneath me in disarray. The sweet ache of where his fingers had been still pulsated inside me. Well, now I was just pissed.

“Nothing happened, though, right?” He smiled pleasantly, popping the two fingers he’d used into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Hmm. Watermelon Sugar High.”

“Fuck you,” I moaned from my place on the floor.

He tipped his head down. “Not a fan of Harry Styles?”

“Not a fan of you!” I called out to his retreating back, watching him ambling to his room, disposing his whiskey glass on a credenza in the living room. “I’ll never fuck an asshole like you.”

He chuckled before closing the door behind him.

He knew it was a lie.