Page 148 of My Dark Prince
Ollie vB:Got it.
And that was it.
Nothing else.
No mention of our little dry-humping session on the counter. Nothing about the bet he’d won. Or any sign of interest in me, beyond what a (normal) parent would give their child. We actually texted daily, but just the basics. He’d check in to see if me or my friends needed anything, if we wanted to use his driver, or if he could hire catering for us.
He was nauseously accommodating.
I wanted to stab him for that.
I thought that would change once my friends left, but I guess not.
Whatever.
I hopped off the couch, hunting for the drawer full of take-out menus. With so much time between now and dinner, I could surprise Seb with his first party in fifteen years. A party of two, but a party, nonetheless.
Normally, we ate pizza, did puzzles, bingedFamily GuyandSouth Park. We rarely spoke about meaningful things, and when we did, it was about the past. Always about the past.
He refused to contemplate what his future might look like, and I respected that.
The past was safe. Harmless. And the night would end with me sending him on his way to the lake, which I loved because I knew it boosted his mood.
An hour later, I backed into the elevator with an entire cart of sushi, homemade margaritas, and a massive four-tier cake I managed to secure last-minute from Classic Bakery, thanks to a canceled order from a bachelor party.
I found Seb in his living room, watching an online lecture about public resistance to basic cyber security measures. Something about the demonization of two-step verification and a generation of lazy slobs. At least, that’s what it sounded like.
He paused the lecture on his laptop and glanced up at me, brows crunched together. “What’s going on?”
“Wait there.” I wheeled the cart to the coffee table, transferred everything but the cake onto it, and scattered confetti all over the rug.
“You know I don’t have housekeeping in this wing,” he pointed out. “Someone’s gonna have to clean that, and that someone is not me.”
“We’ll see.” To prove my point, I fisted a clump of confetti and tossed it over his head. It danced and sparkled in the air before raining down on his cheeks, shoulders, and thighs. “Very pretty. Glitter is definitely your color.”
“That’s not a color.”
“It is today.” I sank onto the carpet in front of the table, sitting criss-cross apple sauce. “We’re having a party, silly.”
He didn’t budge. “Who is we?”
“You and me. Duh.” I tore open a packet of chopsticks and used them to point to the spot across from me. “Sit. My friends are gone, Ollie won’t be home until at least six, and the coast is clear.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, but I caught a grin on his lips. “But it’s not a party.”
“It’s most definitely a party.” I poured soy sauce into a kizami wasabi container and mixed in yuzu kosho. “What have you been watching?”
“School stuff. For my second masters.” He snapped his chopsticks into two. “Cyber security, remember?”
“One upside of the tech revolution, other than filters that make me look two, is the boat load of remote jobs.” I tried to play it casual, dunking my cucumber maki into the sauce, knowing I’d treaded into the off-limits subject of The Future.
“Yeah. I know.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, stirring truffle soy sauce into his toro donburi. “I’m running a few investment portfolios for old friends. They think I’m working from a rural village in Bali.”
Crisis averted.
I loosened up, sliding his mimosa across the table to him. “You and Ollie have always been analytical.”
Sebastian offered me a noncommittal shrug. “Me more than him, but yeah.”
