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“I know.” She purses her lips and looks down at her chopsticks, deep in thought. “But we have to… keep this a strictly professional relationship. What happened before … it can’t happen again.”
“You’re just scared of what might happen… You’re scared of
the person you think I am, and you’re scared of what you might feel.” She bites down on her lip, but then remembers herself and looks up at me with a serious expression.
“I’m not scared,” she tells me pointedly, “and you have to trust me.”
“I will. But you’ll have to trust me as well; you’ll have to trust that I’m not what the fucking tabloids say I am. I’m much more than what YouTube videos show.”
“I know that, Connor…” she whispers and, even though I believe her, I can’t help but throw her a curveball.
“Then why don’t you prove it? I’m trusting you with my family’s future, after all.”
“But… how? How am I going prove it?” Now that’s the right fucking question. And, true to myself, I have a fucking good answer.
“Here’s how,” I reach into my coat and take a small wrapped package from the large pocket on the inside. I give it to her and, hesitantly, she accepts it. “You know… If you really didn’t think there’s something here, between the two of us, you would have scheduled the last meeting at the office… You wouldn’t have come to my apartment. But you did, Natalie. You did.” I reach for her hand and place mine on top of hers. “Your heart wants one thing, your brain wants another. You want some proof? Look at the way you dressed up for tonight… I mean, fuck.”
She doesn’t say a thing, just looks into my eyes and soaks in my words. I can tell that she’s thinking over what I just said, perhaps trying to find an easy way out. Except there’s none.
“You don’t need to say anything, Natalie. I get it. I’m not exactly Prince Charming. I’m a drunk, an asshole, and the last man any respectable parent in the world would like to see their daughter with. But I can be more than that. I am more than that. And, if you want to leave the door open for, well, something more…. Just put this on,” I point at the box in her hand, “and go to work tomorrow. I’ll know.”
“What is it?” Her worried eyes go from me to the box, and I can’t tell she’s dying to know what’s on the inside.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Just trust me,” I tell her, a grin on my lips. Oh, she has no idea what I have in store for her.
No fucking idea.
115
Natalie
Rise and shine, my alarm clock yells at me while it beeps incessantly. Still with my eyes closed, I roll to the side and crush the palm of my hand over the snooze button. Just five more minutes, I think with a smile, the memories of last night bubbling up to my mind. Yes, I said last night; after we were finished with lunch, our “meeting” stretched into a stroll through Central Park, and then we ended up having a few drinks at the 230 Fifth, a rooftop bar with an amazing view of the Empire State Building.
You know, Connor’s right; he’s more than what the media says he is. He’s funny, smart and charming… And he’s gentle and tender as well. Sure, he likes to drop his fuck-bombs every thirty seconds or so, but that’s just for show. I guess that growing up as a Royal woke up that rebellious side of his, hence all the cursing, the crazy antics, and the tattoos.
When we grabbed a cab, it was already 9 pm, the long shadows of the NY skyscrapers looming over us. With three margaritas in my bloodstream, I couldn’t help but squeeze his hand in mine as he reached for me. From there, it took just a few seconds for us to lean into each other and kiss. We made out during the short cab ride, and I even slid my hand up his leg, my fingers touching his hard cock.
Thankfully, the cab stopped before things could progress any further; I threw one last smile at Connor and, with that, ran out of the car and into my apartment, leaving him behind. I dodged a bullet there, didn’t I? What, don’t tell me that I should've invited him in? You know very well that I can’t do that. We have to maintain a strictly professional relationship… Yeah, I know we made out last night, but that was a… bump in the road, I guess.
Still smiling, I sit up on the bed and reach for my phone. I unlock it and, like I always do every morning, check my email before my feet even touch the floor. There are already ten new emails in my inbox, but the one that grabs my attention immediately is the one from my boss, Gage Price’s head honcho. My heart tightens up a little bit - he usually doesn’t email anyone directly unless there’s trouble, and I press my finger over his email.
Dear Natalie, it reads, I’m extremely pleased with your work as of late. You have proved yourself essential in pointing specific areas of improvement to Gage Price's PR strategy concerning the St. Alban’s Prince, Connor D’Avington. I’m looking forward to your presentation. Keep up the good work!
I smile like a fool at the screen; despite working harder than almost anyone at the office, it’s not every day that I receive emails like this one. And to get one straight from the boss himself…! Now this is how you start your day off on the right foot!
I get up from the bed, feeling as cheery as a kid on Christmas’ Eve, and go straight for the bathroom. I take a long shower and then get dressed, putting on a formal skirt and a white shirt.
Today’s the day I’m going to deliver my presentation concerning the “Connor makeover plan,” a 90-day strategy to change his image from drunk womanizer into a respectable member of the D’Avington Royal Family, and I want it to be perfect. I’ve prepared as well as I can, and I look good and professional. You’re going to rock, Natalie, I tell myself as I take one deep breath and look one last time at my reflection in the mirror.
I grab my laptop and start walking toward the room when my eyes find a small wrapped box sitting on my bed stand. Connor’s gift! I completely forgot about it when I got home yesterday… After making out with him during the cab ride home, I was on Cloud Nine. There’s something in Connor that I’ve never found in any other man—sure, he makes me as horny as I’ve ever been, but it’s more than that. Exactly what it is, I don’t know. How can someone so different from me affect me this much?
Well, let’s see what’s in the box.
I walk toward the bed stand, grab the box and start to unwrap it. There’s a picture of a cylindrical white something on the cardboard, and there’s also the picture of a remote. “MAX PLEASURE,” it reads in bold pink letters. Oh, God, I can’t believe this. He’s out of his mind!
My fingers are trembling as I open the package and pick up a small bullet vibrator. I turn the box around as I look for the remote, but it’s nowhere to be found. Connor probably kept it to himself. Oh, he’s insane, no way in hell am I going to wear this thing! To top it all off, today’s a big day for me at the office. Can you imagine how horrible it’ll be if he decides to turn this thing on while I’m delivering my presentation? No, no way I’m going to let that happen.
I place the box and the bullet vibrator down on the bed stand and, in this exact moment, my cellphone vibrates. I pick it up, and there’s a new email in my inbox—one from Connor. As if he could read my mind, his email is a simple one:
