Chapter 32

I spent the last few days scouring the internet for more information on primal play, learning about safe words and gestures, and the hunter and prey dynamics. I watched video interviews of people in the lifestyle describing their experiences and the overall empowerment they felt as prey, even in consensual non-consensual or dubious consensual scenes. They could halt the rough sex scenes with a simple word or action. They talked about the freedom they felt when someone overpowered them and took over their body.

My mind flits back to the frenzied make-out session in the shed at New Beginnings, where Ryland gave me a glimpse of his hunter self when he curled his hand around my neck and forced me to orgasm, all the while leaving plenty of room for me to say no, and how he didn't go any further until he heard a moan or whimper of pleasure from me or my urging of him to continue.

Even in the intensity of the moment, I never felt afraid. I felt safe, alive, treasured.

My pussy throbs and my thighs clench with what I've learned about the lifestyle so far and suddenly, Taylor's idea sounds more and more enticing.

But if I go through with this, I'll let him know who I am before he has sex with me. I want him to decide for himself. He needs to be the one to do it, because I'll be no one's accidental fuck. I want him, but I have my pride.

My palms grow sweaty as I finish getting ready for Grace's celebratory event. I'm so proud of her for opening Peyton-Anderson Financial Consulting and taking her dream by the horns.

Eyeing the slinky black dress I've changed into—a simple curve-hugging outfit with two delicate spaghetti straps and a hem ending at mid-thigh—I blow out an exhale before heading back into the living room, where Fred is packing up his laptop and papers after our study session.

He pauses when he sees me, his eyes widening. "You look beautiful, Millie."

My skin heats and I smile before tucking a lock of wavy hair behind my ear.

"Thanks, Fred. And," my fingers clench and unclench, a sticky sense of shame slinking inside me, "I just want to let you know, I'm grateful you're coming with me to the event…as a friend."

Fred stills and his shoulders slump in obvious disappointment. It didn't feel right to lead him on. My invitation to him was out of impulse because I was hurt, and I wanted to make Ryland jealous. But it's not right for Fred, especially if I know he likes me.

"If you don't want to go, I won't blame you," I say softly, watching him shuffle on his feet, his hand kneading the back of his neck.

"Ah fuck. I kinda figured this wasn't a date." He laughs sadly. "You looked so sad that day, so I dunno, I just knew something was up. But I'll still go with you. You look like you need support for this event, and I'm always your friend."

"Thank you. Someday, you'll find someone worthy of you because you're an awesome person. Truly."

He waves me away and motions toward the door. "Shall we?"

A short while later, we arrive at the entrance of the rooftop bar of the towering glass structure on 5th Avenue, right at the edge of Central Park. I've passed by it a few times on the way to the park or when I tagged along with Belle when she visited the luxury boutiques for inspiration for her family's fashion line.

Fred smiles at me and holds out his hand, clearly sensing I need support. We push open the doors and step inside a beautiful fall paradise.

My breath is momentarily suspended when I take in the tall glass ceiling, which lets in all the natural light from the early evening skies. The sunset washes the space in a watercolor of golds and oranges. The delicate crystal pendant lighting gives the illusion of warm balls of fire lighting up the sky. Then, there's the plethora of floral arrangements—the marigolds, chrysanthemums, and other beautiful flowers I want to examine later.

But my focus is shattered when I hear the deep masculine voice of the man of my dreams coming from the far right.

"We don't tell you enough, but we are thrilled to have you and Taylor be part of our family. Father seems so much happier since he reunited with you both and I know Maxwell, if he were here, would say the same. We're proud to have you two as our sisters."

"Thank you, Ryland," Grace replies and they raise their glasses to their lips.

Ryland smiles softly at his sister. He looks so much more relaxed here in this small gathering amongst his family and close friends.

My heart warms at his words to Grace because I know how much she wanted to find her birth father before and how this means the world to her to have the family she didn't know before accepting her into the fold.

Then, those piercing slate eyes snag on me and his tall frame stiffens. He straightens up imperceptibly, looking every inch the prince the public loves in his form-fitting black suit with a gray shirt matching his eyes and a navy tie. His eyes dart to where Fred is holding my hand and the anger simmering in those charcoal pools threatens to boil me alive.

I can't help but tremble under his scrutiny, but after thinking about how he ignored me this past month, his search for an escort at Noire for Monday, blazing hot indignation floods my senses and I grit my teeth before flashing the fakest society smile I can muster.

Fred squeezes my hand, and I look at him, finding him frowning. Then, he fidgets like he's nervous and leads me toward the group. He addresses Ryland, "Professor Anderson, nice to see you here."

Ryland's face does not change, his displeasure clearly shown in his flared nostrils, his clenched jaw shifting from what's obviously teeth grinding. Fred visibly gulps and I tug him behind me as Ryland remains silent and as cold as the Arctic.

I let go of Fred before wrapping Grace in a hug. "Sorry, I'm late." I pull back and level a glare at a seething Ryland. "Fred and I had a study session because our asshole professor gave us a ridiculous project." I'm barely able to contain the hurt and anger in my voice.

Steven frowns, his sharp eyes skating over my face, acting like the protective bonus brother-in-law that he is, since his sister is married to my brother now. But I ignore him and instead take Fred's hand again, lean on his shoulder, and smile at him.

Fred gives me a shaky and confused smile and tugs me closer, like he needs comfort in this strange swirl we're trapped in together.

A low rumble travels through the air, sending shivers throughout my body, and I whip my head toward Ryland.

I can't believe he growled. Like an unsophisticated caveman.

I bite back a grin as a rush of satisfaction flows through me. You don't get to push me away and then get mad at me for bringing a date, you asshole.

Glancing at Fred, I give him the sweetest, most adoring smile I can muster before turning back to Ryland.

He steps forward slowly, his hand clenched tightly once more, and rasps, "Millie Callahan, if you don't detach yourself from him at this moment, I'll—"

"You'll what? Flunk me in class? Run away like you did before? Be a coward and avoid me?"

The group is silent; the men staring at each other with shocked expressions on their faces before Charles steps forward with two flutes of champagne. I turn toward him and give him a smile, grateful for the interruption.

Steven comes up to me, his eyes sweeping over my face, his brow cocked in question, and I try not to wince. I'll need to make up some excuse about why Ryland and I are fighting since Steven and Adrian are not only brothers-in-law but are also good friends.

He pulls me into a hug and his head dips toward Fred. "So, does Adrian know about this friend of yours?" See? I can only hope Grace will keep her lips sealed.

I shove him and laugh at his protectiveness. "I already have one brother. I don't need another one, but I love you all the same for being a bonus brother."

Standing on my tiptoes, I give him a quick peck on his cheek and I swear I can hear Ryland growling in the background again.

Ignoring him, I turn back to my friends and enjoy the rest of the festivities celebrating Grace and her achievements. The atmosphere lightens after a few more drinks, jokes, and bickering between the Anderson siblings, the group clearly enjoying each other's presence.

After an hour of laughing and catching up with friends, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, making quick work of completing my business and washing my hands.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I practice a few smiles and am proud of how they look convincing. I've avoided the asshole the entire evening, even though I can feel the heat of his stare tracking me as I walk around the space.

But he's still planning to fuck a random woman.

The fake smile slips off my face and I grit my teeth. I straighten my black dress, which has ridden up my thighs, and step into the quiet corridor to walk back toward the lounge.

"What do you think you're doing?" The deep timbre of his voice from behind me halts me in my tracks.

I don't face him. "Here to celebrate your sister and my friend."

His footfalls are loud as he prowls closer and I fight every impulse to fidget, to run away, or, worse yet, to turn toward him and hurtle into his arms. "You know what I mean."

"Nope. I actually don't."

A tall column of heat radiates from behind me and I feel him pressed against my backside.

His breaths are heavy next to my ear, his voice chilly as he says, "Fred. Why are you here with him? Are you dating him?"

I whirl around, not able to withstand this insanity any longer. "Is it any of your business, Professor? I thought you and I weren't meant to be and what we did in the past were mistakes. What did you say? ‘We should make the right choice for the future?' Why the hell does who I date matter to you?"

He towers over me, his face glowering, his skin flushed, and a pulse throbs rapidly on his temple. His gaze darts to my mouth, then to my chest, and his eyes darken, pupils dilating. He leans in slowly, like he can't help but be drawn to me.

My heart shoots to my throat and my eyes flutter shut. I tilt my head upward, waiting for the moment those soft lips claim mine in a burst of savagery. When he finally gives up this farce we are in and accepts that he and I belong together.

But the kiss never comes.

My eyes fly open and I find him straightening up, glaring at me with lust, want, and a plethora of emotions flittering across those soulful eyes.

"You're right. I don't give a damn." He takes a deep breath and smooths his anguished expression into one of calmness, the face he gives to the press and the public. "Enjoy the rest of the party, Ms. Callahan."

He steps away from me and joins the rest of the group back by the bar.

My body trembles, and I keep in the frustrated scream bottled up inside me. Big breaths. Inhale for five counts, exhale for eight. Calm the nervous system.

I close my eyes and fight the mental war against the swirl of negative energy wreaking havoc on my psyche.

Compartmentalize.

Deep breaths.I force myself to release my clenched fists and bunched shoulders, focusing on my breathing, on doing anything other than thinking of him.

He wants me, it's obvious, but for some reason, he thinks he's doing me a favor by stepping away.

The noble idiot.

The infuriating madman.

I heave out a deep exhale and walk to my friends once more. Grace lifts a brow when she sees me stomping toward her.

Reaching her in a few strides, I pause and whisper in her ear, "Set it up for Monday. I'm in."

Let the games begin.