As soon as I’m able to move, I push him away, but he quickly pulls me back to him, so I can face him this time. He cups both sides of my face, staring at me like I could be his world.
And that’s what sex does to men. Makes them think they’re in love for half a minute.
It also never lasts.
I pretend for the moment that it’s real, and I let him k**s me. Slowly, this time. So slowly that I can feel each individual slice to my heart as he stabs the knife in over and over. Finally, he pulls away, and sighs.
“Your cum is running down my leg,” I say.
“f**k. We didn’t use a condom. I’m…f**k. Are you—?”
“I’m on birth control.” So it’s fine, but it’s more proof that we’re out of control with each other. I let out a quiet argh.
“What? Is there something else? Are you okay?”
I wave my hand dismissively. This isn’t the time or place to get into the discussion we need to be having. “We need to get back out there. ” I stop myself. “We have people waiting for us.”
“We do. Okay. I’ll wait to follow.” He steps away, giving me room to get past him. “Stop in the bathroom on your way. Your eye’s…” He makes a gesture that implies my makeup has smudged.
“All right.”
I start past, but he stops me again. “Jisella is my uncle Arty’s mistress. She wanted to be here to meet that YouTube celebrity that was here, and somehow I got roped into being her date so it wouldn’t look suspicious to his wife.”
“…uh, what?” I take that in. “But Evangeline is so…perfect.”
“Men are pigs. What can I say?”
“Well, truer words…” The more important point is not lost on me—that Hadrian wasn’t here with anyone. It shouldn’t matter, but it does, and I almost tell him the truth about Elvis, that he doesn’t love me, but even if that does matter, it’s not the time.
So I keep my mouth shut, and make it to the door before he stops me again. “But, um, Brystin? Don’t clean up everything. I like knowing my cum is running down your leg.”
So help me, I do too.
Hadrian POV
“Then you’re saying that viewer numbers show the publicity from these tabloids has had no negative effect on ratings?” I’m careful how I word the statement, not wanting to influence how Scott answers. I already know the answer.
“I’m actually saying that the publicity seems to have had a positive effect.” He leans over the table to point at the graph in front of me. “Here’s where we debuted. We expected Our Nation Now to come in at this number of viewers.” He points to a number then points to a higher number. “This is the actual viewership we had.”
“Right. We performed better than expected. That happens.”
“That’s what I thought until this latest scandal in the media. Those came out on Sunday and Monday. Look at the ratings for Monday night. They jumped by thirty percent and stayed there last night as well.” Scott sits back again, letting the data speak the story for itself.
“And there’s nothing else that can account for the jump? No increase in ad spend or any planned publicity that contributed?”
Scott shakes his head. “She had that Good Morning America interview the week before and didn’t see these kinds of results. They’re tuning in to find out more about the woman involved with Hadrian Seymour.”
I pretend that I’m surprised, even though I’m not. All publicity is good publicity, and all that. It all works toward the end goal.
My cousin, however, tends to prefer publicity that’s controllable. “I’m not even sure these numbers are sustainable, Hadrian. How do you keep this kind of reaction up?”
“You mean you think they’ll drop after the scandal dies down?”
“Possible. Probable, even that she could win the audience over with her charm. But some people will be turned off when they realize it’s not all gossip. Her show is the real deal. She’s not a sensationalist.”
I mull that over.
The latest scandal he’s talking about are the reports that followed after the dinner at Uncle Art’s house. While the major news didn’t carry the story this time, and neither did any SNC reporter, there were several popular social media sites that did, most of them repeating the earlier claims that Brystin must be my lover. No mention of the horrible word that Hunter had used, thankfully, but one site does say she was seen leaving the dinner with me hot on her heels.
After the way we’d left things Saturday night, I’d thought there might be a possibility she’d reach out. Then Scott brought these latest articles to my attention, and I was sure she would.
Three and a half days later, I haven’t heard a word. This should be a good thing. She’s a temptation I can’t explain. She should be out of my system, or at least an attraction that I can put out of mind when she’s out of sight.
But that’s not what she is.
I crave her. Like the taste of a sweet Bordeaux. I could drink a case of her and still want more. It’s not a feeling I’ve ever experienced, and instead of getting better when I’m away from her, it seems to get worse.
It’s made a bitch out of trying to concentrate. I shouldn’t have her on my brain when making vital decisions for the company. I shouldn’t be so wr*pped up in one SNC anchor. It’s not my job to be wr*pped up in anchors at all. Her show was supposed to be one part of a greater vision for our future. It wasn’t supposed to be the center of my world.
Yet, here I am. Calling impromptu meetings with my head of PR so he can give me the lowdown on every word spoken about Brystin across all forms of media when normally I’d wait for a report at the end of the quarter. “What happens if we play into the scandals?”
His answer won’t change my plans, but I’m curious.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply