Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
She tipped up her chin, squinting at my face. “This is a closed set, sir.”
I squeezed past her, waltzing out of the elevator and into the wide corridor. “Is it, though?” I refused to be intimidated on my own property.
She took off behind me, steam billowing from her ears like they were manholes. “And who do you think you are?”
“The owner of this hotel.”
I hopped over camera cables and extension cords that snaked over the pristine Italian marble. Abstract murals covered the light-paneled walls in decadent turquoise, silver, and gold. At the end of the hall, a Chesterfield chair held one of the imposing double doors of the presidential suite slightly ajar. A dozen people rushed inside from every direction.
“Sorry, Mr. von Bismarck.” The woman raced at my heels, half-stumbling, half-stuttering. “I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”
Eh, the paparazzi from the nudist beach last summer. One of my finest media moments.
“No need to be.” I brushed off invisible lint from my Canada Goose jacket. “I could think of worse existences than being a billionaire hotelier.”
“Sir, you can’t go in there.”
“Hmm. I smell a bet.”
I was obnoxious, I knew. A calculated and deliberate choice, designed to make an enemy out of everyone I met. Surely, Rom and Zach only stayed in my life out of loyalty and the fact that they were as insufferable as me, albeit in different ways.
From the distance, I heard Franklin’s ass-clenching voice grating on people’s nerves like chalk scraping over a blackboard.
“… yes. Oliver is coming to pick me up right now, Dal.” She had her sister on the phone, I presumed. “I swear the fire wasn’t even that bad. Besides, how could I possibly know that hair spray is flammable? I’m not a scientist.” Pause. “You knew that?” Another pause. “Well, a heads-up would’ve been great before I smoked pot while glamming up every single day for years.”
No way could she be that dumb. She had to be pretending, like me.
“Where are the needles?” The owner of the new voice groaned. “We need to stitch together a new skin-tone thong.”
“I got it,” a soft feminine voice called out. “Actually, I’m almost don … ew.”
“Gotta go, Dal.” Frankie gasped. “Are you okay?”
Whatever you do, lady, don’t let Franklin Townsend near you.
“Yeah. It was just a prick.”
I pushed the double doors completely open, barging inside, a smooth smirk on my face. “Did someone call me?”
My grin dropped, right along with my heart, the moment I came face-to-face with the woman sucking blood from her thumb. She held a needle between fingers I knew too well. They once gave me amateur haircuts on lazy summer days by the lake. Shoved themselves into my nostrils while I pretended to concentrate on card games I’d always let their owner win. Stroked my face when I lost my grandma, and when I broke my arm, and when I fought with my parents.
Those fingers, like the woman attached to them, were the very reason I floated in this world aimlessly. They were what I’d run away from for fifteen years and counting.
Briar Rose.
My Briar Rose.
Chapter Nine
Briar
Don’t throw up.
He is not worth your lunch.
You had a vegan crab cake. It was delicious. And expensive. Keep it down.
It was near impossible, though, seeing as Oliver von Bismarck stared right back at me, with the same level of surprise I surely wore on my own face.
The world went black, and my knees buckled. Gravity pulled from under my feet like a rug. I stumbled backwards, reaching for a candelabra for balance.
Never in my life had I pricked my finger before. My seamstress skills were unmatched. But seconds before he entered the room, I could feel his presence. The suffocating calamity that buzzed in the air.
I wasn’t dumb. I knew he owned this hotel the minute the producer of Law Lives had informed me of our film schedule. But years of stalking this man had reassured me that Oliver shared no involvement in his family business. Apparently, my first – and only – love had become a fuck up of gigantic proportions. A hedonistic man-child who only cared about partying, vacationing, and corrupting young women. I’d paid close attention to his antics over the last decade. The arrests, the debauchery, the alcohol, the conquests.
And still, my heart wrung tight like a washcloth when our eyes met. Because I could still see him behind those pale pupils.
The boy I rolled down hills with, until we were covered in grass, manure, and sweat, laughing our asses off.
My throat clogged up with all the things I’d wanted to say to him for fifteen years.
Where were you and where were you and where were you?
Once upon a time, he promised me forever. Our forever turned into never. And never was an awfully long time to fester in the newfound hate I felt for this man.