Page 82 of When Hearts Collide
Taylor nods alongside her sister. “He’s looking for a random person who looks like you. You obviously fit all the physical requirements. What if you show up instead? He never said that person couldn’t be you.”
“That’s genius. Holy shit, that’s genius. You’re an evil genius, Tay,” Belle whispers in awe. “What do you think, Millie?”
My heart, all bloodied and torn up, throws itself around my rib cage, having been resurrected, and my mind is a swirl of thoughts, ranging from no way this is insane, to what if…what if this is what’ll finally tip him over?
I stammer, “I-I need time to think about it. I can tell you on Saturday after your event, Grace.”
“There’s not a lot of time between Saturday and Monday, but anything is possible at The Orchid. I mean, there will be exceptions to be made, I’m sure. I’ll need to call Sofia later to make arrangements and to make sure your brother doesn’t find out.” Grace scrunches her brows and walks through all the things she’ll be looking into.
“Then there are health checks and the blood tests all companions, escorts, and patrons of the Rose floors are subjected to. There’s also a detailed questionnaire for you to fill out with your hard limits, safe words, and gestures…” Grace rambles on about the logistics.
And for the first time today since I overheard Ryland’s conversation on the phone in his office, the tightness in my chest loosens, and I can finally breathe.
Visions of him chasing me, his focus solely on me, uninhibited, wild, have me clenching my thighs. My pulse ratchets up.
Will he finally understand I very much want this, and I have no regrets?
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.”
