Page 21 of Wreck Me

Cole pauses, taking in my hand on Scarlett’s leg, before sliding an ice bucket complete with champagne bottle acrossthe podium, along with two flutes. He hovers for a second, as if he’s contemplating opening his mouth.

‘That will be all.’ Cole’s eyes flicker with a burning rage at my abrupt dismissal.

I stand and follow him to the door. When it closes, I turn the lock.

I pour two glasses and hand one to Scarlett before dropping back onto the couch. ‘I’m curious. What’s this proposition?’ Scarlett takes two large mouthfuls of champagne.

I raise my glass to my lips and drink deeply.

‘I want to pay you to pretend to be my girlfriend.’ I rock back against the leather, deliberately giving her space. ‘My father and the board of directors are putting pressure on me to…’I search for the right words. ‘Settle down.’ I let my words sink in for a second, willing the stupid nerves in my stomach to quell. I’ve made many propositions in my lifetime, yet for some reason, this feels like one of the more significant ones. Probably because I want this–her–more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. Maybe even ever.

Champagne splutters from her mouth. ‘You’re kidding? Why?’ she asks, incredulous. ‘Don’t tell me. Because you were photographed on that yacht with those women?’ Her grey irises twinkle.

I roll my eyes and chose to ignore her quip. ‘You know I’m attracted to you. I think you’re attracted to me. We could put on a convincing show.’

A wry smile twists her lips. ‘I suppose you’re not too bad to look at. But why me? Half the women in the country are attracted to you.’

‘They’re attracted to my bank balance. They’re not really interested in me.’ An image of yesterday’s date pops into my mind. Jessica De Burgh, in a high-necked designer dress, blonde hair twisted into an immaculate chignon. Make-up applied so subtly I’m supposed to believe her beauty isnatural. Perfectly manicured nails. A pearl necklace – not the type I’ve been fantasising about giving Scarlett, either.

Her family owns a global chain of Michelin-starred restaurants. On paper, we might be a good match, but in reality, there was no spark. No connection. Nothing. I made my excuses and left as soon as I finished dessert.

It was a total waste of time.

As were the dates I had with Aisling Kavanagh, Saoirse O’Sullivan, and Lady Fiona Harrington. I exhale heavily. Lunch with Lady Harrington was particularly painful. There was nothing ladylike about her. She chewed with her mouth open, talked about herself incessantly, and her high-pitched voice would grate on the nerves of a nun.

‘Are you sure it’s your money they’re after?’ A small smirk lifts Scarlett’s lips as her eyes dart to my crotch the way they did the first night I saw her dance.

‘You know, for a virgin,’ I lean forwards and offer her a wink, ‘you’re pretty forward. If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to rip that pretty little scrap of silk from your pussy and bury my tongue in it.’

Scarlett’s pupils dilate to huge lava-like pools. All traces of teasing evaporate from her face. Vulnerability and desire duel in her silver eyes and something sharp twists in my chest.

I want to corrupt her so badly, but she also provokes a mad urge to protect her, take care of her, lavish her beautiful body with affection and attention.

She leans in closer and my eyes are drawn to her spectacular tits.

‘But why me?’ She shimmies towards the edge of the leather and crosses her long tanned legs.

She has absolutely no idea how insane with lust she drives me. ‘Because you’re a million times more interesting than any of the society wannabes. Because you’re gorgeous. Intelligent. Well spoken. Well educated. And you’re about to graduate infinance. We’re practically soul-mates.’ I take a sip of my drink.

‘What school did you go to?’ I nip the inside of my cheek, praying my assumptions are right.

‘St. Jude’s Girls’ School.’

I expected as much. St. Jude’s is the most exclusive girls’ school in the country.

‘There you go then.’ I raise my hands to emphasise my point. She might be a pole dancer, but she is equally qualified to be a private equity manager– or she will be in a matter of months at least.

How was Scarlett able to afford to attend the country’s most prestigious girls’ school and yet now she’s here at the Luxor Lounge dancing for tips to pay back forty grand of student debt?

Where are her parents?

If they could afford to put her through private school, why aren't they helping her through college?

‘I don’t have a family, not anymore.’

I swallow back my curiosity. I don’t need to know. What I need is an answer to my proposition. Every single atom in my body vibrates with the need for her to agree to fake date me. Because there’s nothing fake about the attraction between us but while she continues to work at the Luxor as a pole dancer, there’s no way we can explore it further.

I want her away from Cole and the other predators. Predators like me.

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