I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve written Oscar Karlson’s name in my diary. And now here is my chance, but all I can think about is Chris goddamn Collins.
It was easier to hate him when I thought he threatened or paid people to vote for me, but now I don’t even have that. He’s living rent-free in my head, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Stop looking,” I tell her. “And Chris Collins isn’t in the mafia. My dad sent him to ‘keep me safe,’ that’s all.”
Maria folds her arms. “You should have seen the way he barged into the club looking for you. He was jealous, Harps.”
“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes. “I’m just a college kid. I don’t know how he made all his money because he never answers any of my questions. But I do know he’s a hobbyist MMA fighter who made billions from some kind of tech thing. And he’s unhinged.”
“Not jealousof you, dummy. Jealousover you. He was ready to kill Aaron last night.” My best friend glares at me and wags her finger. “Ahhh! I see what’s going on here. You have a wart, don’t you?”
Here we go again.
“Please God, stop with the wart talk. I don’t have warts. Or warts on warts. Or?-“
“You have a wart!” she states.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“The silver fox is your wart. He’s growing all over you, isn’t he? You don’t want him there, but you can’t get rid of him. He’s right there, festering under your skin. And that’s why you don’t want me to call Oscar over. You have Chris Collins-shaped warts all over you, don’t you?”
I bite my lip. “Yes, but please just calm down. I think you’re sugar drunk.”
“So you have the hots for your dad’s bestie?” she whispers.
“Sort of. But like you said, I don’twant to feel like this. I just want my life back. And my house. He’s almost twice my age, so nothing could ever work out between us.”
Maria nods and taps her chin. “Won’t hurt to have a little fun, will it?”
“I guess not.” Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a pen and notebook and slides them across the table. “What’s this for?”
“You want the wart removed, right?” She asks.
I nod.
“Then we need a plan. You’re going to seduce your dad’s bestie,” she says.
I stop breathing.
“What’s wrong? You know he’s hot. And he has a thing for you, so it’s hardly going to be difficult.”
“But how does that get rid of the wart?” I whisper.
“Simple,” she says. “You make him so wild with lust that it totally screws with his head. I know guys like Chris Collins. He might be a psycho, but he’s old-school. So he’ll confess his feelings for you to your dad, and then Papa Bear will send his ass to buttfuck nowhere before you can say ‘bondage.’”
How has she thought this up so quickly?
“Then you get your life and house back,” she adds. “Wart removal complete. And you never know, you might get some action before the big confession. Everyone wins. Except Chris, but he’s rich anyway, so whatever.”
She points at the notepad. “This is ‘Operation Seduction.’ Chop, chop. Write it down.”
Not knowing what else to do, I scribble:
Seduce Chris until he confesses his feelings and dad makes him leave.
“And step one is to melt the silver fox’s ice-cold heart,” Maria adds. “The Notebook movie should work. You, Chris, and Ryan Gosling all snuggled up on the sofa.”
“And Rachel McAdams,” I mumble. “She’s so beautiful.”
“And so are you! You’ll also have the added benefit of actually being there in person. That’s why we need to buy you the sluttiest dress in Slutsville.” Maria lifts her milkshake as I write more notes. “Here’s to Operation Seduction. Poor bastard won’t know what’s hit him.”
“Hey, Harper.” I lift my head and freeze when I find Oscar Karlson standing next to our table. “I was waving. You must not have seen me.”
He looks down at the notepad, so I cover it with my arm.
“Anyway, listen…” Oscar says, trying to act cool. “I was just wondering if you fancied grabbing a drink later? Just the two of us?”
Oh. My. God.
“Like…” I clear my throat. “A date?”
Oscar smirks. “I think that’s what the kids are calling it these days. What do you say?”
“She can’t,” Maria replies, so I decide it’s safer to close my eyes. “She has warts.”
Maybe I should emigrate.
I hear Canada is nice this time of year…
SIXTEEN
Chris
Ican’t wash the images of Harper crawling on all fours from my mind. No matter what I do, she’s right there in my head.
It was so much easier to see her as the ten-year-old kid crying at her mother’s graveside. But that doesn’t work anymore.
It’s like that damn photo shoot wiped young Harper from my memory, and now they’ve all been replaced by her crawling around in her lingerie. And her pink bra and panties…
“Fuck this,” I hiss,sliding a gold cuff link into my Gucci shirt. “She might not look like it anymore, but she’s still my best friend’s daughter.”
I grab the handcuffs from the cardboard box.
Hopefully, a few hours with Milana will fix this fucking mind virus.
Things are simple with Milana Kauffman. I know where I stand with her. I guess the kids would call usfriends with benefits, but the friendship part is nonexistent.
Our agreement is simple. No feelings. No confusion. No late-night drunken calls. Just sex. And that’s exactly what I need right now.
A soft tap echoes through my door.
“Hang on! I’m just…” The handle lowers and Harper steps into my room. “… getting dressed.”
Harper’s gaze falls to my bare thighs and she covers her eyes with her hand. “I’m so sorry!”
I want to tell her it’s no big deal, but I can’t move. I’m just staring at her. She’s wearing a low-cut, bright red sundress and my eyes drop to her slender legs. Holy fucking shit. She looks incredible. Blood rushes to my groin, so I grab my jeans to cover my boner.
“You having a picnic?” I ask, pointing at the wicker basket tucked under her arm.
Still covering her eyes, she shakes her head. “I…umm…cockies.”
I smile. “What?”
She stamps her foot in anger. God, she’s cute.
“Cookies!” she shouts. “I mean, I have snacks. Popcorn and stuff. To eat. With you. As a peace offering.”
That’s not going to be easy when you’re dressed like…that.
“Peace offering for what?” I ask.
“For being a super bitch about the Greek Life thing,” she says. “I know it wasn’t you who made people vote for me. So this was my way of saying sorry.”
“Look at me,” I tell her.
Lowering her hand, her eyes grow wide.
Shit.
I toss the handcuffs back into the cardboard box.
“Oh,” she stammers. “I can see you haveother things planned. Never mind. Stupid idea. I’ll just…yeah.”
She turns to leave, and I know I should let her go. I’m too horny to be sitting around eating popcorn all evening. Especially when she looks like that.
But my eyes fall to the back of her thighs…
“Wait!” I say, pausing her in the open doorway. “I had a date planned, but it’s nothing important.”
I had planned to meet Milana just to take my mind off Harper and those damn photographs I saw on Aaron’s camera. But seeing her in that dress has just flipped my priorities.
“You sure?” she asks.
I nod. “Positive.”
“Okay. I’ll be in the lounge. Downstairs.”
I snicker. “Yeah. I know where it is. I’ll yell for directions if I get lost.” Harper giggles and closes the door as I turn back to the mirror. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Chris.”
Pulling off my clothes, I toss them to the bed and grab a Ralph Lauren T-shirt from the wardrobe. Then I pull on my stone-washed jeans and make my way to the door. Jogging down the stairs two at a time, I enter the lounge to find Harper kneeling in front of the TV.
Fuck.
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.