Page 35 of My Dark Prince
I stared beyond her shoulder, at a painting of a vase on the wall. “Uh, flower arrangements.”
“What?”
Good question.
What the fuck, von Bismarck?
I could’ve chosen any other topic in the world – food, climate, politics, best vacation destinations, worst pizza topping (that would be a short argument, though. The answer was pineapples, and everyone knew that). They couldn’t have a painting about gender equality on the wall?
“We’re getting married?” Briar’s eyes lit up, and for the first time since we reunited, her lips bloomed into a smile. “Oh my god, Ollie!”
Before I knew what was happening, she clasped my cheeks in her tiny palms, pulling me in for a kiss. I was a bastard, but apparently, I had a moral or two left in me, because I gently seized her wrists, tilted my chin up, and kissed her gauzed-up forehead.
“We have to go with roses, Ol. Roses in all colors. Red. White. Pink. Coral. Ilovecoral roses.”
“You will have all the roses you want, sweetheart.” I blamed my mouth, which wanted badly to appease her after years of letting her down. My mouth and every other part of my body except my brain. “All the flowers in the Americas and Europe combined. The whole world will be short of roses when I’m done decorating our wedding. Divorce rates will go through the roof. Valentine’s Day will be canceled.”
“That’s … um, psychotically romantic. Thank you.” Briar pawed my palm and brought my knuckles to her lips. “The nurse told me you jumped into the pond to save me.”
I gave her a grave nod.
A better man would feel guilty for what was happening right now. I did not deserve this woman’s adoration, let alone her smiles. But it felt good. Being the hero in Briar’s life again. Even if just for a few minutes.
You are going to Hell, Oliver. No. You’re going somewhere worse. A new type of purgatory created to house you and your sins.
Briar leaned forward, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for always saving me.”
I patted her thigh awkwardly in response. My dick, which did not get the memo this was a crisis of gigantic proportions, immediately got hard. Time for a subject change.
“So …” I cleared my throat. “Tell me what you remember.”
She sat up straight, getting serious. “I remember pretty much everything up to when I was fourteen or fifteen. I remember our summer vacations on the lake. I remember my hobbies.” Her eyes twinkled. “I remember that day you found me staring at clouds on the lake, and we made out for hours until our lips bled.”
“Ah. My first taste of bloodplay.”
“Is that a kink you like?”
“Not particularly.”
Today, that is.
Over the years, I’d tried every kink in the book to get my better half going. It took ten years to finally admit that my only kink, my onlytype,was Briar Rose Auer.
“Hmm …” She tilted her head, brushing her thumb over my knuckle without really thinking about it. “I also remember fractures of what I’m pretty sure is my present.”
“Like what?”
“I remember I’m no longer in contact with my parents.” She hung her huge eyes on my face. “Is that true?”
I nodded. This tracked with the fact that the hospital couldn’t contact them. And the fact that she’d lumped me in with her parents and biological dad during our fight earlier. Oliver = Bad. Therefore, all three of her parents must’ve been, too.
Briar pinched her bottom lip, contemplating this. “I remember I changed my name to Briar from Briar Rose, but I don’t remember why. I know that I live in the US. I know that I work and that I love my work. What do I do?”
“You’re an intimacy coordinator.”
She blinked. “Is that, like, a real job?”
“You make sure actors feel comfortable during sex scenes. You’re very good at it. You make people feel comfortable in their own skin.”
