Page 224 of My Dark Prince
The tension from this morning’s heated script reading melts away. To be fair, I can’t stay upset whenRewriting Uswill be my first project credited under my new legal name – Briar Cooper. Usually, it takes up to three months to get names changed, but Oliver pulled strings to expedite the paperwork, so I can enjoy a few months as a Cooper before I become a von Bismarck.
“No can do, Cuddlebug.” He rifles through a few boxes, forming a side stack of ones he’s most excited for. “How else can I guarantee your return?”
I walk my fingers up in his spine. “I can think of better ways.”
His eyes snap to mine. When he speaks, it comes out thick and hoarse. “You have ten seconds to open a present or we won’t make it to Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Okay, okay.” I grab the nearest one and tear it open, revealing the worn pages of a vintage book.The Woman in White. I bring it up to my nose and inhale. “I love it, Oliver. Thank you.”
“It’s a mystery I picked up in a small bookstore in London.” He watches as a stroke over the gold-leaf title. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he blurts out, almost randomly, “I like reading smut, though.”
I raise a brow. “Um. Okay?”
That came out of left field.
Then, I remember what I said the time we hosted dinner outside. The outlandish lie about my ex being an avid smut reader.
“Oh. My. God.” I can’t help it – the widest, most satisfied grin curls up my lips. “Oliver von Bismarck, are you jealous?”
His ears turn pink.
“Jealous?” He recovers fast, snatching the rose from my hair by its stem and feathering the petals between my breasts. “Not a chance. Just reminding you of the chaos you create when you leave me for too long.”
I back into the wall, watching his throat bob. Ollie’s finger hooks the front of my shirt, right between my cleavage, and tugs down. He kisses down my jaw, to my neck, to the swell of my breast. His finger traces up my inner thigh, slips beneath my panties, and slides into me with ease.
I bring his head lower, groaning as he nibbles on my nipple through my bra. “We have dinner.”
He mutters a curse, withdraws his fingers, and wraps his lips around them, holding eye contact as he tastes me. “Thisisdinner.”
“Blankets,” Seb reminds us from his room, no doubt eavesdropping on our whole conversation.
I ignore him. “Oliver.”
Ollie waits a beat, his eyes still dark with lust. “Fine.”
Before this gets out of hand again, I drag him toward the dining room. “What have you been up to the past few days?”
He adjusts his erection as we pound down the stairs. “Announced to the world that I’m the new Grand Regent CEO, caused stocks to nosedive just in time for the holidays, and donated to save a few oiled-up seals in Newport Beach.”
“Now that you’re not making the front pages of gossip rags every week, your image will recover – and the stocks with it. Wait. Did you say seals?” I stitch together everything I said at that dinner months ago, my jaw tumbling open. “Oliver. How long have you been fixated on one-upping Grant?”
He takes my hand at the bottom step. “Long enough to cancel the ski resorts in Palm Springs and Dubai, introduce myself to local eco activists, and drum up sustainable room service menus for all 6,000 Grand Regent properties.”
“Grant Dwyer didn’t drop out of college to save Planet Earth. He didn’t even read smut.” I try my best not to giggle and almost succeed. Almost. “I was fucking with you, Oliver.”
“What can I say? There’s no turning back.” He brings my engagement ring to his mouth and kisses the knuckle, staring right into my eyes. “I’m all in, Briar. LA, the Barbie outfits, the fuckingFrozenduet. Hell, I don’t care if you ask me to climb Mount Everest and singlehandedly carry down every piece of littered trash – I’ll do it. There is nothing I won’t do to make you smile.”
“We don’t have favorites.” Agnes frowns at Oliver above her wine glass.
He dunks his turkey into gravy. “You absolutely have favorites.”
I shrink into my seat, two mashed potato servings deep into my first major holiday with my new family. Actually, my first holiday withanyfamily. Apparently, they involve an unhealthy amount of liquor and lots of pointless arguments. I never realized “family bonding” is code for “who can yell the loudest.”
Zach’s momjustfinished lecturing him and Farrow about her extracurricular expectations for her grandchildren that don’t exist when another scuffle broke out between Oliver and his mom.
Mrs. von Bismarck pats the corners of her lips with a linen napkin. “Any proof?”
“Sure.” Ollie points the carrot speared at the end of his fork between both of his parents. “You guys named me Oliver after the Olive Garden, while you named Sebastian after some shredded Roman sculpture.”
