Page 99 of The Pucking Wrong Date

“Fiiine,” he complained, “go get your picture taken again. Try the left side this time though, because the right side was a little lacking.” I was chuckling as we said our goodbyes and hung up.

The smile on my face faded right off when I remembered what I was about to do.

It hadn’t been my favorite thing to tip off the photographers about where Olivia was going to be coming out, but I needed to be seen with her…and I needed it to be everywhere.

It had worked out exactly as I wanted it to. The gossip headlines had been full of us.

“Has Love Tamed Music’s Wild Child?”

“Rebel with a new cause?: Olivia Darling and NHL’s Prince Charming Dating?”

“Prince Charming and the Frog Princess?”

The headlines infuriated me, but they served my purpose. Me dating Olivia was good for her reputation.

And I knew of two people who were desperate for that.

Even though they had been the ones to ruin and trash Olivia’s reputation in the first place.

Fuckwads.

I put on myLincoln Danielsface as I walked into the restaurant. The one that said I was the king of badassery, a prince among men. And all these fuckers were just lucky to breathe the same air as me.

Wasn’t sure I quite had it down, but I’d been practicing in the mirror and I believed it was an achievable goal.

And as we all knew…achievable goals were important.

I didn’t need to ask the hostess where they were sitting. As usual for two people who craved the spotlight but didn’t have an ounce of talent between them, they were seated at the most visible table at the restaurant.

Not my favorite thing since I did need this part of the plan to be incognito, but at least this place wasn’t a paparazzi hotspot. And everyone around didn’t seem to give a damn who was sitting around them, they were just here for the food.

I only got a little satisfaction from their shocked expressions as I slid into the empty chair at their table.

Jolette gaped at me for a second before remembering she was a frigid ice bitch and was supposed to play it cool. Marco recovered quicker, probably seeing dollar signs since I knew from doing research on him he’d recently picked up some gullible athletes to add to his clientele.

He was probably frothing at the mouth having me here.

I took a second to examine them.

I couldn’t see any of Jolette in Olivia, but maybe the bitch had gotten so much plastic surgery you couldn’t tell what she really looked like anymore. Her ice blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, her skin stretched tight over her bones, giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll with a cruel smile. Her eyes, cold and calculating, swept over me, and I held in my shiver because she honestly looked like she wanted to eat me alive.

“What can we do for you, Walker Davis?” she purred, and the sound of her voice was like a knife in the ear.

My dick was shrinking listening to her. I would have to measure it when I got home because I might have just lost two inches just being in her presence.

Olivia would be furious. I was pretty sure I was making her addicted to my dick.

Jolette cleared her throat and I put my bad bitch mask back on, deciding that thinking about fucking her daughter was probably not a good idea at the moment.

Disinterested. That’s what I needed to go for.

“Quite the contract you recently signed,” Marco simpered, and I mean simpered. He resembled a scavenger, ready to pounce on any opportunity. He stunk of desperation, practically reeked of it as a matter of fact.

"I have a little proposition for you," I said, settling into my seat and grabbing a breadstick.

Their gazes were locked on me, waiting for me to continue. Marco leaned forward, eager to hear what I had to say, while Jolette remained composed, her cold blue eyes studying me intently.

"I’m sure you’ve seen the recent headlines. They’ve been quite good for your daughter.” I threw down my phone, scrolling through the articles that I’m sure they’d already been through at least twice this morning.

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