Page 90 of Phobia
As much as I wasn’t ready to return to reality, I couldn’t stay stranded in the boat forever.
There were things to do.
The first of which was to make sure my father didn’t fire Oliver for his transgression the night before. We’d give him another chance. Lord knew he deserved it. Maybe I was selfish and young, but I thought, stupidly, if I could get him to stick around long enough—I could call him up after my wedding in the spring and we’d…
Yes.
We could pick up right where we’d left off.
I would never allow him to suck cock for food again. Maybe it was naive of me, but I truly thought, with my fortune, nothing was impossible.
Oliver stared blearily at the sand surrounding us as I finished the buttons on his trousers then started on mine. We were still damp from the night before, and both of us shivered as the sun rose higher and the chime of the church bell rang from somewhere over the wall that blocked off the beach from traffic.
I patted my back pocket, taking note of my wallet, before I bent over to retrieve the bottle of lube we’d used up the night before. Huh. I flipped it over and read the brand name, a startled laugh escaping as Oliver watched me warily.
“This was what you stole?” I flipped it back around and showed him the label.
Wishfell Thinking, A Gentleman’s Companion.
Everyone knew Lord Wishfell was a horny prick. It was why he’d started his own chain of self-pleasure stores, and coughed up the coin that had funded the pleasure robots that served the Red District. I’d wondered why, last night, Oliver had stolen from him, considering the fact that most—if not all—nobles carried trackers in their wallets.
Oliver shrugged, clearly wrong-footed. There was a look in his eyes, one I didn’t like. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with me now that we’d done what we’d done—that we were what we were. That was alright. If he didn’t know, I would happily choose for him.
“There will be no more theft,” I decided, pocketing the lube as a trophy. “Should you want something, you need only ask.”
Oliver stared at me like I’d grown a second head, but I shrugged it off, glancing both ways as I rose from the boat and climbed onto the sand. I adjusted my glasses then reached out with one hand to help him out. The bruise on the side of his head was uglier in the early light, but I had hope it would heal soon enough.
Huh.
If I left him to his own devices before the wedding what other bruises would he sport? What other injustices would he swallow? I doubted he had adequate medical care—down, wherever it was he resided.
No, no.
Change of plans.
It was best he came with me now.
Alana would support me, and through her support, Father would too.
“I’ll find you somewhere to stay at the manor and we’ll—”
“Wait, what?” Oliver stumbled after me, his hand in mine as we made our way toward the break in the wall that would lead to the boardwalk.
In the summer the streets would be lined with colorful vendors from all over the galaxy. Our little port was the most profitable on the planet, and there was no comparison really, when it came to quality wares. I was more than a little proud to admit that my father had been the cause of our planets sought after trade status, as well as opulent wealth. Truthfully, we owned more than half the city, not that everyone who visited even realized that. I couldn’t wait to share my wealth with Oliver.
Oliver made a confused little noise and I pulled him closer to me, enjoying the way his body brushed against mine. He felt so very real in that moment. Alive. Well, if not a little damp.
It was amazing how lucky we were to have survived.
Amazing indeed.
“I’m going to keep you,” I told him with a happy hum, pretending like it was as simple as that. Sure there would be hoops to jump through. But…should we keep our relationship secret till after the wedding, Father would have no problem with—
“I’m not a pet, Henry.”
“God, I know.” I laughed, rolling my eyes at him. I’d never felt this chipper! In all my life. Yes. Things would work out. I knew they would.
“You can’t just ‘keep me.’”
